Thanks to the organizers for believing in my vision. And thanks to all the artists who put up with me and worked on the films. We are all so looking forward to taking part in the event.
Both films are screening (online as the event has moved because of the coronavirus outbreak) MON June 22 ~ SUN June 28, 2020.
THE VERY SPECIAL DAY is showcased in the “Newcomers Short” section for Short Films, while NEWS FROM FUKUSHIMA is in the “Trendsetters” section for Feature Documentaries at the Tokyo Lift-Off Film Festival.
(Written SUN March 22, 2020 as the world fights the pandemic over the new coronavirus that causes COVID-19 and I continue to be aghast at the utter lack of integrity among the supposedly best of us, the ignorance, selfishness, ugliness. )
Some people are Poison In sheer Presence Even from afar Some people are Garbage A stench of Gibberish Even from afar Some people are Ineffectual A blob hanger-on Even from afar Some people are Broken A Godzillion pieces Never whole again Some people are Forgotten Hidden unbleedingly silent Into the flesh of scars Some people are Music Wafting healing savory sweet Even from afar
Self-Portrait by Van Gogh at the Rijks Museum in Amsterdam
Haiku in Amsterdam
By Yuri Kageyama (written in Amsterdam Sept. 2019.)
Like any city a Chinese restaurant
Glasses black hair he works hard
He is your son your first date
Your father
Your Lover for life
That Chinaman found everywhere
Our History
Our eternal plight
And he makes me fill with
Pity pride tears
While on the topic of Van Gogh in this Amsterdam reference, sharing my poem “Haiku for Van Gogh” in a reading from several years ago in San Francisco, with bass by Hiroyuki Shido.
THE RIVER _ a poem in the spirit of Hart Crane _ byYuri Kageyama
THE RIVER _ a poem in the spirit of Hart Crane _ byYuri Kageyama
Katsushika Hokusai’s hawks Still eye this Sumida River Crying their fue whistles Echoing music on scuttling boats, Carrying workers, travelers, modern-day geisha _ Some rickety, faded lanterns dangling, Other ships are futuristic tubes of glass; The torrents are dark with the wind, Torn dreams of star-crossed lovers Jumping tied by cloth as one From the Kachidoki Bridge No longer a draw-bridge, separating at the center, The winding waves glisten in tips of white Like the wings of seagulls that flutter Only during the fall and winter seasons,
In the rain, darting sideways sumi strokes, Tiny people scamper across the landscape The O-Edo “salarymen” and the “office lady” O-Ls Faceless, hustling proletarian lives Clasping sheer convenience-store umbrellas Not the woven straw hats of the past Tokyo Tower to the left Sky Tree to the right Stirring distant eternal visions, Swimming in the Seine, Sumida’s Sister River, And Van Gogh’s deranged mind, Sashaying to the ocean and the connecting skies, Where the sun sets again, Bleeding purple among wispy twisted clouds; And the River churns, Remembering glory, Knowing sin Through an anonymous city of lights
(II) The BIRDS
Kabuki’s answer to the Pelican The Flamingo, the Albatross, The Heron swoops through the sky Perches so perfectly on a pine _ Princess in mirrored waters;
The humble fish-gulping Cormorant Dives in muddy waters, Spreads battered wings to dry, In flight, freed from slavery _ Transforms, a gliding Black Swan;
The Sparrow plays, chirping staccatos, Small furs of speckled brownness, They play, always searching Like a lost forlorn child _ Unchanged from Issa’s poems.
(III) SIGNS OF LIFE _ A Poem and Not a List
Azure-winged Magpie Bobbling Lanterns Giggling Motorboats Baby Crabs, some are still Worms on the pavement, mostly still Fish are jumping, really But Seagulls mew like Cats And Monkeys slide on Dagwood Trees; Smell of Tsukudani, dead Rodents, Where Basho began his Journeys _ If We can feel the Words, A List turns Into A Poem: Zinnia Elegans Profusion Zinging Cicada Couples in Yukata Cotton Clouds After the Storm
(IV) HANABI (fireworks)
Fireworks at Ryogoku by Utagawa Hiroshige
Hiroshige had the idea Roses, wine glasses, mandalas Exploding big in the hot dark Psychedelic flowers blooming Over milling crowds of evil Drunken laughter Exclamations Aspirations of Smallness: I whisper to my blind friend: “It’s lovely like truth, Like forever.” Fragile glows bleed with neon Hanging low only for a moment Hiroshige had the idea
Sumida River fireworks
(V) POETIC MOMENTS
Let me create them Poetic moments A Ditch is a River Poetic moments The River is Vision Poetic moments Lost forever found Poetic moments Everywhere Poetic moments Nowhere Poetic moments Let me create them Poetic moments May I stay pure So I don’t miss them.
SUMIDAGAWA
隅田川 どぶかかわかは 浮世ビジョン
Sumida River Whether a ditch or river Ukiyo Vision
FAREWELL TO TSUKIJI
their fangs shimmer in the darkest of nights in multitudes like starving soldiers they make their run across downtown fur upon fur covering the cement, nails scratching, blocking the office lights, monstrous mice mewing, looking for the fish that is suddenly gone, as they once looked for the Pied Piper of Hamlin, the rats of Tsukiji are moving, not to Toyosu, where the ground is poison but into rich people’s homes to eat their steaks, greed and children; the rats blink with tiny golden unfeeling eyes, diamonds of stench, in time with the stars above
THE RETURN OF THE YURIKAMOME
I waited all summer For your return Flutters of petal Above the water Buddha’s wafting lily pads Your squawks swim the salty breeze Circling, swooping, dancing, They say birds vanish before an earthquake, A hurricane, an apocalypse; It matters not you don’t remember me Your playful swoops Silence screams of hate Your presence is comfort In this Atomic Age You are back: “I will not cry Except in love” _ I wrote those lines When I was very young, And they are still true As I die, You are back
An ode to the Asian Uncle Tom A Yuricane poem (or does power always turn evil?) by Yuri Kageyama
a painting collaboration by Munenori Tamagawa and Radio the Artist as Yuri Kageyama reads this poem written by Yuri Kageyama at What The Dickens in Tokyo Feb 4, 2018.
You sit prim with your glasses Behind that desk, title, resume Won on the backs of The 442 Purple Hearts Oblivious in your banal Banana-ism To the fact that Yellow is your Color The most expedient, forgotten, Cheapest of lives Hiroshima My Lai North Korea You sip white wine at ethnic restaurants New York, Tokyo, Dubai, Bangkok They all look alike Smiling in Instagram posts You have it made You have them duped You have arrived Never mind, in your deepest fearful solitary moments, You can’t help but pick out Just those Who look like you: Race suddenly a Reality; You must put them down, And make sure they stay down, Remain the invisible man, the invisible woman, Establish as Fact through rumors and appraisals That People of Color Can’t be objective, and, be careful, Get easily used, You can do the math _ as the stereotype goes _ The slots are limited, Tokenism being a zero sum game, Diversity cannot be the majority; You’ve long lost your ancestral accent You’ve adopted the air of leaders You’ve deleted memories Of how we were all shackled, We picked strawberries, We built the Transcontinental Railroad, We survived behind barbed wires, Instead You go to meetings, Rehearse video appearances, Take vacations to the Caribbean and Bali, Sneer at Chinese going shopping, Plan your retirement, Asian American Only to whites
