Today’s ikebana was fun because my teacher Mr. Okada, a man of many talents who can do backflips, allowed me to come up with own ideas. In the assignment, the yellow flowers were supposed to be the main elements, but I wanted to make the sweet peas the main elements, in the same way that the sidekick may steal the show from the lead actor. I also made the ivy into a circle. The link to my last ikebana with the link that leads to more previous ikebana links.
the online invite we got, courtesy Simon Scott, who read his found poem at the workshop
Kita Kamakura Writers’ Workshop
Delighted I got invited to take part in the Kita Kamakura Writers’ Workshop March 21, 2026. I climbed a lot of beautiful green hills (giving my legs an enormous workout) to get to the home of Duncan Whom (aka D Whom, a performance artist, filmmaker and dancer), filled with bottles of perfume because his partner, Neil Chapman, is a scent specialist. We also got taken on another walk around the area, uphill much of the way, to finally see a lake, which had been hidden. Although not articulated, it was part of the workshop to do all this obviously, to feel through our muscles that nothing comes without work. As a reward, we got very nice food, including couscous I hadn’t had in a while, but was marvelous with salad with cheese, and wine.
Last but not least, I got to read my essay, “Why Butterfly Should Stop Committing Literary Harakiri,” published in “Bigotry on Broadway,” Baraka Books, 2021. I hadn’t looked at that piece in a while, and of course never shared it. I have finally come to terms with what I have written, feel and want to tell the world _ everyone _ and our legacy. Racism is wrong, no matter what. But the fight can be meaningful, creative, even redemptive. I was filled with gratitude toward the hosts, the other writers who were there and shared their work, as well as to Ishmael Reed and Carla Blank, who put together the book, in which my work was published. And to the world of artists in general.
The poem as sung by Miho Ryu with music arranged and performed by Toshiyuki Turner Tanahashi.
Love Simply
To be near hurts
To be far hurts, too
Love simply hurts
To live hurts
To die hurts
Love simply hurts
Watching you die
Hurts even more
Love simply hurts
To know you hurts
To have known you hurts
Love simply hurts
But to not know you,
Not hurt for you
Is simply not a choice
Love simply hurts
Love simply hurts
Love simply hurts
「愛はただ痛い」
a poem by Yuri Kageyama translated into Japanese by Ryu Miho
近くにいるのもまた辛い
遠くにいるのもまた辛い
愛はただ痛い
生きるのもまた辛い
死ぬのもまた辛い
愛はただ痛い
あなたが死ぬのを見るのは
もっと辛い
愛はただ痛い
あなたを知るのもまた辛い
あなたを知っていたのもまた辛い
愛はただ痛い
でも、あなたを知らないのは
あなたのために傷つかないのは
ただ選択できない
愛はただ痛い
愛はただ痛い
愛はただ痛い
A rendition by Teru Kawabata with his singing and guitar. August 2025.
This poem, now lyrics to a song, was written in 2023. It is still developing, but I feel it has come full circle. It still makes me cry. My love is still so very real and, I know, eternal, which means the pain will never go away. It is overwhelming and frightening. But I now know many people feel this way. It is a feeling that comes only with someone you truly love. The wonderful thing is that I was able to show him my poem. He just said, “I feel loved.” The look he had on his face was like a child, totally fulfilled and happy. And what else is a poem meant to do?
I read “Love Simply” with music by Jackson on drums and Teru singing and playing guitar of the music he wrote at an open-mic in Tokyo Oct. 5, 2025. Thanks for having us and being such a fun crowd.
I read my poem “Love Simply” with Teruyuki Kawabata on guitar and Osaki Haniya, fellow poet and co-writer of “Continuously Poetry,” at Bar Gari Gari in Ikenoue, Tokyo, Sept. 19, 2025. Thanks to the Drunk Poets for having us.
Besides the Book Party, I also earlier read “Love Simply” with Teru at Infinity Books, on Oct. 11, 2025. Before I read, I told the people at the jam session that the poem was about my partner of more than 40 years, who died in April. I don’t think I ever said that in public about my poem. I also told them that I showed him the poem before he died, and he told me he felt loved. You know how you feel a bit drained, depressed even, after reading your work. But one young man who was there to jam told me he liked my poem, then said: “Your husband is one helluva lucky man.” That made it all worth it. And I thanked him.
People say things have little meaning, and it’s just the person or the emotions that the thing reminds you of that have meaning. Sometimes they are one and the same thing because if you have something for more than 40 years, that certainly means something, and that thing has a meaning of its own. People leave, taking off from this world and going somewhere very far. But the thing stays. And it continues to tell us what that person means. Because that person never really leaves. He is always here, just like, or even more than, that thing. This is the fourth in a series that follows this third piece, which has a link that connects to the previous pieces. After this are three more: “Love Simply” and “What Do You Think?” as well as “Your Music.” And I get the feeling there will be more because that feeling never dies.
I am always struck by how this art form requires you to think about what these flower elements might have looked like as they were growing in nature. As a result, all that you do to the flowers, including breaking the branches, bending the leaves and cutting off some of the flowers, is totally unnatural, which goes to show that is what people do all the time to nature. To make things looks right. Feel right. Be right for human existence. It is a cruel thing to do. But we do it all the time. And the saddest thing of all is that it does look right after you do it all. And it makes you feel better, and at peace.
