I’ve spent most of my writing time on a new poem called Hanabi in Japan, which is about the seduction and magic of a Japanese summer. My brother lived in Japan and when I visited him in 2005 he took us to see an amazing fireworks,, or Hanabi (fire-flower) display in Nikko. The best was a red Saturn with a green ring, which I didn't even think was possible, having grown up with garden variety Traffic Lights, Roman Candles and of course the dreaded Snake.
I read the first draft at Mello Mello last month, unsuccessfully, since I'd drunk too much organic beer and not practiced pronouncing all the Japanese words... I hope to perform it this month, having sought the expert advice of my Japanese sister in law, Kimie. I usually read quite dark poems, and decided that for open mic performances I want to have some that don’t kill the atmosphere! I've tried to move in a different direction with Hanabi in Japan, the piece is less dark, though there is a strong sexual element, which ties it in to my other work. I am still redrafting, but here is my latest effort to put my ramblings in context.
I read the first draft at Mello Mello last month, unsuccessfully, since I'd drunk too much organic beer and not practiced pronouncing all the Japanese words... I hope to perform it this month, having sought the expert advice of my Japanese sister in law, Kimie. I usually read quite dark poems, and decided that for open mic performances I want to have some that don’t kill the atmosphere! I've tried to move in a different direction with Hanabi in Japan, the piece is less dark, though there is a strong sexual element, which ties it in to my other work. I am still redrafting, but here is my latest effort to put my ramblings in context.
Hanabi in Japan
I dove into the Daiya River,
was thrust under Sacred Bridge,
reflected red on pellucid water;
moist lips sipping me in.
I swam with Ayu fish and Masu
while cicadas rubbed their music
to the beat of the gushing stream.
Lingerie blossom dripped from brown limbs,
breathing Parma Violets through the air.
Burnt orange lapped my face,
as Tourou lanterns skimmed the river’s skin.
Yukata butterflies scattered chitin powder,
skating the path with geta sandals.
Thighs whispered against kimono silk,
brought about the summer breeze
and the night took our eyes,
shocked with fiery blooms.
White-hot tongues whipped the sapphire dark,
shrieking, spraying neon Saturn on the sky.
.
