Don’t Eat A Pen! (when you italicize words)
“Parlez-moi d’Amour… ”
A doorbell rings.
A phone rings.
A floor shines.
“More storms, please!”
invisible (un)readable books
on War & Peace,
I scream in someone else’s voice
to feel my skull & lungs.
A girl, wearing her father’s shirt,
fooling herself, waiting
for another downpour
is not me.
“Rules for a sonnet?”
I have no idea.
(Don’t) beat the dog
that barks at the sticky unpleasantness
of the master who feeds him! Let him sink
in his own sweat,
so he’ll become a “Muse-Ripping” floor mop.
“Notes of anguish?”
Where are they?
Roses on a fence
peak their redness.
“Nothing” death hangs in the air
when we talk about love.
One Way Dialogue With Delmore
Do you mind me using the word: “fun”
to describe your bagatelles?
Ego? What ego?
I don’t own wheels.
I don’t drive.
Rain keeps falling on us
as if it’s the end of something.
We save your “inside” stories gulped in a deluge.
We toast them in the oven to dry.
“Shower or Bath?”
You are lucky to have such a choice.
What about the ones who have neither?
Pages have become too crisp to turn.
They fall like leaves.
A desire to write a “good” poem?
What is “good”?
You tell me.
“fun” or “good” –
All poems are full of (un)just words,
So, let’s not get ourselves bored to death,
even if the rain doesn’t stop.
Don’t you think that’s an idea?
2 Gardens Poems from PINK: A Paris Journal Trilogy, Part 2
in the circle shaped stillness,
our lives privately take a rest
summer trees scatter green flowers, full to the maximum,
in the afterglow of the remote past’s form & figure
I share the moment & the space
with an old woman I have never met before
in her spring of words,
I pick up the familiar word
To steal flowers from a painter’s garden.
(To pick a pebble up in a sculptor’s garden.)
Everything changes into a memory in a flash.
How cruelly beautiful it is!
How quiet it is! How simply complex it is!
Yuko Otomo and of Japanese is a bilingual poet (poetry & haiku) & visual artist. She also writes art criticism, essays & does translation.