
My poem is published in this just out Spring 2025 issue of Ishmael Reed’s KONCH magazine.
My poem is published in this just out Spring 2025 issue of Ishmael Reed’s KONCH magazine.
“CONTINUOUSLY POETRY” My new book of poems
“CONTINUOUSLY POETRY” My new book of poems, a collaboration with Osaki HANIYA. Out as a real paper book January 2025. Please stay tuned for a big book party _ you are all invited to come celebrate poetry that knows no borders. Some poems shared on this site earlier became a part of the book: Continuously Poetry, Part Two and KELOID. I am very proud of this book. Special thanks to Shinsuke, who volunteered his time and love to put the digital data together so we could get it all nicely printed. So please come to the book party, but I already said that. Details coming soon.
REPORTER AT WORK PORTRAITS Photos by my colleagues over the years that are evidence I do my best as a reporter.
Photo during my interview of Japanese prosecutors for My AP Story March 8, 2023.
Photo during my interview of Yayoi Kusama for My AP Story Aug. 7, 2012.
At the FCCJ front row, brown hoodie for My AP Story April 12, 2023.
Photo during my interview of Akio Toyoda for My AP Story March 6, 2013.
My AP Story Sept. 23, 2016, when I spoke with a rock legend, who kindly called me “AP’s journalist of conscience.”
Sometimes my sources are a bit mechanical but cute. My AP Story July 13, 2015 on the Pepper robot when I am in an AP Photo, which is unusual.
Sometimes the photographer and I end up in pretty abandoned areas like the no-go zone in Fukushima. My AP Story April 29, 2014 that I filed from this trip.
And at other times, the photographer and I end up meeting extraordinary people who were hidden in their moments of glory. My AP Story May 18, 2014 when I interview Mr. Haruo Nakajima. My AP Obit Aug. 8, 2017.
A shot from the interview for My 2024 AP Story in the studio of the artist in Shikoku.
We also do 360 video and end up being in that circle. This is from My AP Story Nov. 16, 2017 at a Toyota plant. Turn your cursor in the video below to see a 360 degree view of the plant:
A Photo by Shizuo of Andy and myself interviewing a Nissan executive for My AP Story Sept. 12, 2017.
Takashi Murakami took this selfie after our interview for this AP Story Dec. 31, 2015.
From 2014 when I visited Nezu Museum, designed by Kengo Kuma, and speak with the curator for My AP Story about Japanese architects. I still like this story.
This poem is part of an upcoming book “Continuously Poetry,” co-written with Japanese poet Osaki HANIYA, and put together by designer Shinsuke Matsumoto. I like this poem, and I like this book.
KELOID _ a poem by Yuri Kageyama
A famous actor once told me
He wished he didn’t have a Face.
Oiwa in Yotsuya Kaidan asks:
Is this my Face?
Criminals feel free to do evil
Their Faces behind a mask.
I still remember I cringed in horror:
Her Face was covered with Keloid
But instead of being a vengeful ghost,
Or criminally insane,
She is just gently worried
Not blaming
Not frail
Not vain
This poem will be published in an upcoming issue of Ishmael Reed’s KONCH magazine.
SHIRO a poem by Yuri Kageyama
The first death I knew was our family Akita,
Born the same time as me;
A runt my father got, his ears never perked up,
His nose piglet pink, not shiny black,
Like a proper Akita.
^___<
A ball of fluffy white,
Shiro, which means “white” in Japanese,
Grew up to be big and strong,
Although his nose stayed pink
And his ears floppy.
^___<
Chained by a big dog house,
He barked at approaching strangers
But never at our neighbor,
A typesetter at the Asahi,
Walking home quietly at dawn.
^___<
He never growled, snapped or bit,
Noble and calm,
Like a proper Akita;
I would ride on him
Like he was a horse.
^___<
People said he was poisoned by a man
Who didn’t like his barking;
He was taken away in a cart,
Or maybe it was a little truck;
Still, beneath a blanket of straw.
I chanced upon this speech by Monique Truong at the Library of Congress in 2019, “The Pleasures of Not Being Lonely.” Below is what she says about my poem, “My Mother Takes a Bath.” I still like this poem. I’m proud and happy Monique likes my poetry _ and thank her:
“I want to share with you a poem by Yuri Kageyama, whose photograph in the anthology was a canvas of pitch black, with only her face, the waves of her hair, and a standing mic emerging from the darkness; her eyes are cast downward, focused on the instrument that is amplifying her voice. Her biographical statement identifies her as a “performer” who was born in Japan; grew up in Tokyo, Maryland, and Alabama; and now calls San Francisco her home. This poem is entitled “My Mother Takes a Bath,” and the body is at its center. This is how it begins:
My mother
Sits
In the round uterine
rippling green water
hazy vapor-gray dampness
soapy smelling
in the air—a circle cloud—above
the tub of a bath
the wet old wood
sending sweet stenches
sometimes piercing to her nose and sometimes
swimming in the hot, hot water
tingling numb at the toes and fingertips
when she moves too quickly but
lukewarm caught in the folds of her white white belly
Her face is brown-spottled
beautiful with dewdrop beads of sweat lined neatly where
her forehead joins her black wavy tired hair
and above her brown-pink lips
one drop lazily hangs, droops over,
sticking teasingly to her wrinkle
then pling! falls gently
playfully disappears into the water
She sighs
And touches her temple
high and naked
runs her fingers over the lines deep
Her hand
has stiff knuckles
enlarged joints crinkled and hardened
but her thick nails thaw in the water and
her hand is
light
against her face
and gentle and knowing
and the palm
next to her bony thumb
is soft
Her breasts are blue-white clear
with soft brown nipples that dance
floating with the movements of the
waves of the little ocean tub
slowly, a step behind time, slowly
She sighs again . . .
For me, the pleasure of recognizing a kindred body, a family of kindred bodies, was followed in quick succession by the pleasure of recognizing the kindred spirit.”
It turns out that Keiko Beppu also referenced the poem “My Mother Takes a Bath” in her 1981 essay, “Women in Contemporary Anglo-American and Japanese Literature: Of Cherry Blossoms, and Weeds.”
This is what she says:
“Throughout history woman as the eternal nourisher of life has given herself freely because it has been decreed as her sole function in life _ to give. More than two decades ago Lindbergh posed the question: but is it purposeful living? In the poem quoted above, an old Japanese woman asks the same question, and answers in the affirmative. The old woman forgets the passing of time and ages, ‘As she sits alone/With the water/singing koto strings in her ears.’ This is a twilight world of serenity and pseudo-contentment.”
Counting the Days Until Christmas
Just sharing photos of Our Tree 2024. No special reason. Just joy, love, gratitude and memories being forever.
Two Days Until Christmas
One More Day. It’s Christmas Eve.
Merry Christmas!
And More from Our Tree.
My translation of Tanikawa’s final poem
I wake up
I see the foliage in my yard
I remember yesterday
I’m still alive
Today just needs to be more of yesterday
That’s how I think
I have no plans to do a thing
Nothing hurts
I’m not itchy either but I’m grateful
To whom in the world?
To God?
To the world? To outer space?
I don’t know but
A sense of gratitude stays