SAYO NARABA

SAYO NARABA

let me leave
to find a
new world

those who
wish to follow
can follow

forget, unlearn,
learn again

still in my memory
echoes of what was before
in the Sengoku Jidai
the war of Empire

how much consciousness
atomized at
Nagasaki

and would the Universe
care to recycle

let my
atoms blow
and if the consciousness go
or follow

it is no
great tragedy, kabuki
dance or
mime-show

I told you I loved you
and meant it, that
is enough for
one life

wrong to ask, to
expect more

AT THE DOOR

I persuaded the I Ching
that I would proceed
correctly

not like the serpent
invited to the tea ceremony

who fell in love
with all the sheathed swords
left for safety’s sake
at the door.

COLD DAY

such a
bright warm day
for seppuku

Oh, no, should be cold,
clear, Winter sun glinting
off metal

So
so a perfectly crisp
cold day for seppuku

if the snow begins
to fall I will

try to catch a flake
upon my tongue
before I am gone

THE WORSE LIFE GETS

the worse life gets
the more beautiful
the poetry
(what kind
of wicked parasite
is this to
turn my
pain into
your pleasure?)

be that as it may,
would that lust were my only sin
would that it had all
of my dedication, total
Zen-monk focus

then we could talk about your kimono
is subtle, surreptitious
removal my
elephant in the room

but no street preacher
when you need one so
the smooth feel of
skin must
be left to, must
totally become
product of my imagination

street preacher, street walker,
one of you must absolve me,
convert me
endorse me

leave me with lust, best in
the form, the shape
of special desire

kimono
on the floor

there is
space
to
fill, that
can be filled

places to kiss

KATANA

I left my katana
in your dresser

am waiting here
with Oda Nobunaga
for the attack
of the
Takeda clan

wearing your
ivory, and
gold kimono.

TO NAGASHINO

she shared
the wisdom of the body

her kimono
floated down like a cloud
settled like a lake

tomorrow Lord Oda’s army
marches to
Nagashino

and I
am in the first rank

FINE EDGE

FINE EDGE

 
I didn’t take to this discipline naturally.
 
When I hear the word `craft’
the hair on my neck begins to prickle
 
I think not of the clink, clink, clink
of malleable steel, hammered into
curved deadliness under
the hands of a sword smith
but of that treacherous
glint in Oda Nobunaga’s
implacable eye
 
scrutinizing the
lie of the land at Nagashino
 
appreciating
how the skyscape is
forever changing
 
in the ceaseless combat of
wind and cloud
 
(so many
tree-
blossoms
 
fluttering by
the wayside).

Excerpt From: Garside, Damian. “Zero Gravity.” Xlibris, 2014-02-10. iBooks.

IN GOOD TASTE

the rain fell
turned my
haiku into
a Jackson Pollock

and now I know
that the moment is
worth rejoicing

Sky
and Earth

in such
good taste

TATTOO HAIKU

one night stand
with person with no tattoos
hard — no inner guide

DRAGONFLY

it was a dragonfly
taught him kendo

the delicacy
to
cut
parry

his blade
a deadly
feather

floating in
and
out

its lightning
under tether