the decline of Japanese culture

morning these chains

morning these chains old loves
caress you again

a footprint in neatly raked asphalt
the old tar pits

"Tu a souffert de l’amour à vingt
et à trente ans”

now you are on the West Coast
flying to Japan
with a girl who says she loves you
but her moods are not your moods

the white-gloved driver at Narita
conducts you to the old stone house
of Yokohama
haunt of foreign devils rising from
distended graves

shackled down again
in the little room, your Muse approaches,
your Muse of many names -- Catatonia,
Miss Dance, Lady Echo, Toyotamahime,
the White Heron -- she enters and in her train
the familiar sky horses -- you mount
and ascend, flying to the moon in the company
of the pihi, the hoopoe, the phoenix

now you are in the Midwest
flying to hell
the Mennonite farmers are angry, schizoid
in the locked ward your tablemate is psychotic
whereas you are merely
suicidally depressed

now you are in the Hamptons in the lap
of improbable luxury
with a Chinese girl who wishes you to fuck her
on the pristine beach
you oblige

morning these chains old lives
caress you again
but the air is pure, the momiji bleed
deep red, even in winter

the air has changed, and the century
and the melancholy humors

new times, new moods
this ancient world
welcomes you again

-- Ross Bender

victory