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

Fuji -- Banshun

富士 . . . 晩春



美

かくも単純に

かくも無意味に

常にあり

常にあり続ける

たとえ山々が揺れ動いても。

神々が自らの喜びとして創られた

自らの像として

美として。



大倉純一郎訳

カイ・ニエミネン選詩集　「森で誰かが．．．」　（本多企画　宮崎　2000）　より

-- Kai Nieminen

Amish Druid, 1967

San Francisco Oracle, Vol. 1, #7

strange women approach me

strange women approach me on the bus
wanting to know my business
they’re subtle
asking for directions
asking for a cigarette
don’t they know you can’t smoke on the bus?

might be social workers
might be ladies of the night
might be a honey trap
you never know
when you’re riding the bus

that’s why I just say no
keep staring ahead in the distance
watching the streets go by
and the people dancing
murals, coffee shops, hair braiding salons

and days go by

you see women on the bus
you think you recognize
exotic women in rain ponchos
with the Chinese character for “the way”
(in Japanese “michi”)

when you get a little closer
it’s some football logo
you feel foolish for having asked
“why are you wearing ‘michi’ on your poncho?”
they must think you’re nuts

that’s why I just say no
when I get the impulse
to talk to strangers
keep staring ahead in the distance
watching the streets go by

--Ross Bender

gone far to the northeast . . .

tsune yori mo
kokorobosoku zo
omōyuru
tabi no sora nite
toshi no kurenuru


A forlorn feeling,

this time more sharp than ever:

journeying along

under a vast sky where I see

the old year sink to its close.

--Saigyō, tr. William R. LaFleur