We will be presenting excerpts from our performance piece set to open at La MaMa Experimental Theatre in New York, N.Y., September 2015.
We will be on toward the end of the evening, which goes on 7 p.m. – 11 p.m. SAT April 4, 2015.
Please take part in our poetic journey of everyday life, defying the borderlines of race, gender and cultures, to examine the Fukushima nuclear catastrophe and other cosmic and innermost issues of importance.
By poet Yuri Kageyama and The Yuricane band featuring Hirokazu Suyama (drums, percussions), Yuuichiro Ishii (guitar), Nobutaka Yamasaki (keyboards). FREE ADMISSION
Great California-style food and drinks at The Pink Cow in Tokyo’s Roppongi, but you have to pay for those.
Drummer Hirokazu Suyama reads my poem “ode to the stroller” and teaches me and moves me more than I knew I could have ever hoped for.
Thank you, Hiro, for your music, for believing in my poetry and for simply being so special.
Read at the Japan Writers’ Conference in Okinawa.
Nov. 2, 2013.
Film by Adam Lewis of Okinawa Vision.
We are really one.
ode to the stroller a poem by Yuri Kageyama
we zip weightless like silent angels
up and down San Francisco hills
running on the mother of all energy
greener than solar
rolling rolling rolling
cream acid rock ‘n’ rolling
lightning dazzling wheels
teethers jangling dangling dancing
going mad on strangle-free rubbery ribbons
up and down the Avenues
J-town, Clement Street
Golden Gate Park
Museum of Modern Art
we are singing:
“Ouma no oyako wa nakayoshi koyoshi
itsudemo issho ni pokkuri pokkuri aruku”
perfume wind in our hair
springing over potholes
not even stopping just for breast feeds
connected as one through this magical machine
the Lamborghini of strollers
the Gundam of strollers
the little train that could of strollers
up up up into the joyous clouds
down slurping slopes
around swervacious curves
we are one
yes, we are one
tied in the past with our
even in death
in our dreams
(video by Evan Karp)
Ishmael Reed, who published my latest book “The New and Selected Yuri: Writing From Peeling Till Now,” received the Barbary Coast Award WED Oct. 12, 2011, at a gala ceremony at Z Space in San Francisco, a program packed with poets, musicians and performers, includng even me, who read “Litte YELLOW Slut” with the Broun Fellinis _ from left to right Kirk Peterson (bass), Kevin Carnas (drums), David Boyce (saxophone) _ Makoto Horiuchi (guitar), Ashwut Rodriguez (guitar) and the great Ishmael Reed (piano).
becky nao kicked me so my shins turned purple taunted me daily mimicking my voice becky nao believed there was only one slot for an Asian girl in fourth grade class becky nao the white girls weren’t rivals only me, the one other Oriental girl, becky nao slit eyes and black hair, good grades, neat handwriting becky nao if i fell dead, gone, wiped out, she could be that survivor yellow girl becky nao who’s going to tell us apart? so there can be only one of us becky nao flicks her eyelashes at blond boys flaunting a fetish, even at age 10 becky nao fat face, fat calves her fat belief as the solitary token becky nao hatred curled tight in a nasty gnarl all for wishing to be that China doll becky nao
My poem “Disco Chinatown” is in “Breaking Silence,” an anthology of Asian American poetry (1983: Greenfield Review Press) featured in the latest edition of this online magazine “asiacana.”
Disco Chinatown a poem by Yuri Kageyama
street blood throbbing punk maggots of the slums with fake ID’s smelling British sterling cover the stink of sweat, car grease and dirt and the blood from being cut up by a Jo or is it W.C? slant eye to slant eye talking smooth talking or trying, “hey, baby- looking nice tonight” spilling sunrises margaritas bourbons with cherries giddy easy striding to make it to my table in your own eyes, a ghetto knight, “wanna drink?” in a flash and a flick, light my cigarette the dance floor is dead tonight linoleum cracked the Filipino D.J. Berkeley Asian American Studies drop out is stoned and even the lights look neon sleazy you want me to move, a wax museum dancing doll, under your macho gaze, or in your arms, rocking following your rocks, layered black hair, moustache, always, to tickle the quick kisses, cheap shiny shirt, four buttons open, a jade pendant swaying against yellow brown flesh, darker brown leather and long long legs, you want to take me home and the grip on my shoulder tightens, you driving a Camaro Z28? an Olds 442? a broken down Malibu? a Caddy Eldorado? you want to be rich someday you want to enjoy life, you say, cuz it’s so so short, ALL girls want you for their old man, “in bed, I have a good body, opium makes me last and last I’m ten inches and, “a smile, “this thick” you play the mind games with a too ridiculous seriousness not another escape out just for kicks your street male pride can’t take no scratches you’ll kick my ass when the number I give you isn’t mine you tell me not to dance with anyone else when I just met you tonight and isn’t your old lady waiting at your apartment? hardened hard up Ricksha stray tiger cat your life view quite doesn’t touch mine and being gang banged isn’t my type of thrill disco steps don’t silence sirens and the skyscraper lights don’t touch Grant Avenue on a Friday night Golden Dragon massacred meat can’t ever be pieced back together again black lights and hanging ferns or Remy sweetness can’t hide spilled out alley fish guts that tell you and tell you there just ain’t no future your hands grope your eyes closed your tongue dry your penis limp poor ChinaMAN-child