“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.
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.
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.”
“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.”
Our journey continues. Clich here for the first part of our journey. Below is where we pick up, from May through July 2024. The odd number installments are by Osaki Haniya and the even numbers are by yours truly. The theme is supposed to be “love,” although, as always, we go all over the place.
RENSHI
A poetic collaboration Part Two
By Osaki Haniya and Yuri Kageyama
連詩 第２弾
１
あなたと交わるのは
薄く大気が身動きする砂塵のあわい
雨と風と時が
廃墟の親和性を完成してくれる
そうだったね
徐々に思い出していくよ
倦んだ傷口と解剖メスの
刹那の痛み
白灰色の泥絵の具に
厚塗りの膠を重ねて
2
Native American Wisdom as Told by Urie Bronfenbrenner
A hip bone defect
Runs down family lines;
When they become warriors,
Some born
Can’t go riding
Can’t go hunting;
A brave white scientist
Maps out Blood
Lineage
Crooks and crannies,
Buried in Genes;
No child will ever be born again
With a hobbled spine,
No such child will be born again
The brave white scientist is excited
“I have figured this all out,” he says;
“I know. I know.”
But all the wise chief does
Is shake his head,
Deep pools of knowing
Beneath the eagle feathers,
And he says these Words
That say it All:
“We believe in Love.
We believe in Love.”
3
よく眠りなさいと言った母の声も届かない遠方に来て
無（なるもの）への郷愁など持ったこともなく
久しぶりに新古今和歌集を開いている
ーー草枕 旅寝の人は 心せよ
有明の月も かたぶきにけり
辻を回ると養源院
異国の共犯者が作り上げた不在の輪郭に惹かれ
苦痛と憐れみと嫌悪感と
程よく煽られる感情の臭気と
あなたの所在を見失っても
迷うことはできないと知る退屈さと
4
(With introduction and music playing Al Green’s “Let’s Stay Together)
I, I’m so in love with you
Whatever you want to do
Is alright with me
Cause you make me feel so brand new
And I want to spend my life with you
I bury the body, bloated and sagging,
Fat fingers that no longer hold
５
あなたの身振りに習うなら
臨床的良心によって射ち、つらぬき
微細な歪みを調合しなおし
名付け
印を彫り
忘却の漆喰から奪い取るでしょう
on Friday night, May 31th CE714
北海を渡ってタイン川へ向かう船室に り戻
紅茶が運ばれてくるまで眠った
すべては襖 の黄金のなか絵
あなたのノックで、やがて
夜の salutation が始まる
6
Romeo and Juliet in Kabuki
Where there was a Balcony is a River divide
Star-crossed lovers flee in the dark
Clinging to each other like souls driven mad
Chikamatsu writes of Double Suicide
Puppets more human in frenzied destiny
And Shakespeare simply asks:
Wherefore art thou?
7
偏愛する友人たち
娘たちが眠りに就くころ
荒れた穂先を尖らせる
風に解けだす辰砂
ペルシャ赤
スペイン赤
答えを求めているわけではないけれど
私は信仰を持たないままです
8
The homeless guy in my neighborhood who is always reading just got a new cute tiger puppet he keeps perched on his cart.
It looks like he washed it recently. It looks so perky.
Today, he had a new wand with a pink pony on it.
You found these?
I wasn’t sure what to expect. Some homeless people aren’t very friendly.
But this guy just looked bewildered. Then he said: You can have it.
It broke my heart.
No, that’s yours.
He has nothing.
And he was going to give me his new toy.
9
白象図
展開部はアレグロ・アッサイ
白色の下塗りが
微かに足音を響かせ
次第に高まり
^
火や花々
産声を上げるディ・モルトを け抜
それから不意に行く手を遮った
^
耳の砂
砂の匂い
夥しいマティエールの間で脚を開き
ゆっくりと押し付けてくるあなたの舌
^
聞き取れない声で呼ぶ
強暴な、母の名
^
風が吹く
引っ掛けるのだ
呼びとめ
伝えてほしいって
^
心配しなくていいんだよって
何かを欲しがったことなど
一度だってないんだよって
^
黒みがかった灰色の
黒ほとんど黄金色の
白象図
^
あなたは描き
ねじり
吊り下げる
^
此処から向きを える
変どちらかといえば少し歪んでいるあなたの肩
そこから遠く海が眺められる
^
なんという静けさだろう
幾つになったのとか
あのとき言っただろうことの意味を考えていた
^
何度もあなたは立ち止まる
そこだけ積もった冷気を吐き出しながら
＊俵屋宗達『白象図』
10
Today inside Tokyo’s pristine acoustics
Of Meguro Persimmon Hall
A Japanese cellist played
Ryuichi Sakamoto’s score for
Bernado Bertolucci’s “The Sheltering Sky,”
Love-torn and blistered by the Morocco sand,
An Africa covered with flies, indigenous yelps,
Fevers that derange:
If Sakamoto was inspired by Debussy
And Debussy was inspired by Asian music,
Has it all come back
Full circle?
Gone
Around this vast complicated War-ravaged ready-to-crack World
At What the Dickens in Tokyo June 2, 2024. Haniya Osaki, Yuri Kageyama and Toshiyuki Turner Tanahashi. Photo by On Lim Wong.
CONTINUOUSLY POETRY a bilingual collaboration by Osaki HANIYA (all even entries) and Yuri Kageyama (odd entries) with Toshiyuki “Turner” Tanahashi (on bass). Tokyo. April 13, 2024.
1
Abortions, still births, defects at birth
Violent parents, cheating partners
Children who leave and never look back,
Cancer, dementia, the funeral wake.
Family of Errors
Betrayal, Psychosis:
If God created people perfect,
We would just miss them too much,
When they die
2
木漏れ日がさらさらと揺れて
靴の紐を固く締め上げる指先を撫で回す
1922年、T.S.Eliotは書いた
April is the cruelest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land
越冬用の木の実とともに今も
シマリスは瓦礫の下に横たわっている
3
ファミレスとはよくいったもんだ
愛おしい家族よ
ジョナサン、デニーズ
サイゼリア
虐待のスパゲティ
Sexual abuse ice cream
痣だらけのお子様ランチ
4
十字路を渡りかけて振り返ると
見知らぬ小さな人が 呟く
missing link
5
Searched for the names of
Isaku’s Granpa and Granma;
Made sure they were there:
Their names,
Years of birth 1923 and 1924,
And Minidoka
Then shed a quiet tear.
Ireizo-dot-com
125,179 Persons of Japanese Ancestry are known to have been incarcerated by the U.S. Government during WWII.
We vow to remember them all.
_ written Feb. 19, 2024
Remembering Executive Order 9066 on This Day.
6
山雪〈老梅〉の
四面の狂い
反対色
描きとどめ
回り続ける歳月の二針を
焼き付けても
ひと枝の花
金箔の首筋に熱
記憶というのは幾つくらいから始まるのだろう
白衣の老人が顔を寄せ合ってこちらを覗き込んでいる
見上げると茫洋とした灯りが
ゆっくりゆっくり旋回している
自転車に乗れるようになった頃
朝早くに母の使いで近くの寺へ行った帰り
停車中のトラックに自転車もろとも突っ込んだ
左膝にめり込んだ小石が私そっくりに笑っていた
剥落しているところがあるかもしれない
溢れた塩酸の夢
過度の奏上
エクスタシス排斥し
＊ 狩野山雪〈老梅〉
7(an English translation of sorts of 6)
Sansetsu’s “Old Plum”
Madness across the surface,
Opposite colors
He’s painted.
Two switches from a spinning full moon
Scalding
Sole flower on a branch
Turns to fever on a nape gilded with gold.
How old are we when memories begin?
Huddled old figures wearing white peer toward us;
A vast light above
Slowly, so slowly, spinning.
When I first learned how to ride a bicycle,
On my way back from the temple, running a morning errand for my mother,
I slam into a parked truck, bicycle and all,
The pebble stuck in my left knee laughs, looking just like me.
Ishmael and Tennessee Reed collected 62 contributions from people in China, Japan, Europe, Africa and the U.S. to write about their COVID experiences. And one of them is yours truly. The online collection of works crisscrossing the world and spanning two issues of KONCH literary magazine is coming out as a real-life book publication in 2024. On the cover is a photo taken in Venice of the poet, playwright, novelist, essayist, thinker and my forever mentor Ishmael Reed, standing next to a plague doctor (who else?) I am so happy, excited and honored. I can’t wait to get a copy.
