I want to write you a letter. Enter 3 words on the homepage and I will.
This poem is a part of Japan6. Read another sixth of the set here.
Looking at the Skytree for 17 Seconds
Whine of the bicycle brake fastens
another maybe temporary memory
to the night. How this the same
place when sunlit? I don’t know.
3 moths leave white as oblivion.
Fuji meditates behind the overcast
for weeks. Enmasama’s topaz elevator
lifts so it can descend, window to
what lives between floors at the hotel
on Earth’s edge. If I can boast
at the end it’ll be the teacup gravity
I controlled, keeping my iPhone
caved in pocket. Maybe items
we lose are sacred, resold
in a 7-Eleven with doors that open
at our last flutter of eyelids?
No. Rarely about us, this.