“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.”
For the final one for the year, I contributed these paragraphs to the Dec. 31 AP Story (I’m repeating them here since they are unlikely to survive in full all the updates throughout the day):
Asia gets ready for the Year of the Snake
Much of Japan has shut down ahead of the nation’s biggest holiday, as temples and homes underwent a thorough cleaning, including swatting floor mats called “tatami” with big sticks. The upcoming Year of the Snake in the Asian zodiac is heralded as one of rebirth — alluding to the reptile’s shedding skin. Stores in Japan, which observes the zodiac cycle from Jan. 1, have been selling tiny figures of smiling snakes and other snake-themed products. Other places in Asia will start marking the Year of the Snake later, with the Lunar New Year.
I am one of the 12 journalists who won the Best of the AP award Sept. 14, 2024, the first year in my more than 30 years at the AP I win the award twice in a year. My AP Story and AP Photos that were part of the package:
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.
NEWS FROM FUKUSHIMA: Meditation On An Under-Reported Catastrophe By A Poet is an Official Selection. Screening at LetLive Theater in Los Angeles SAT March 2, 2024 7:30 p.m. I am happy, grateful, honored. Thanks to my theater and film directors, Carla Blank and Yoshiaki Tago, my brilliant tireless multicultural cast, my dedicated crew and team, everyone who stuck with and believed in my writing.
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.
