I gave four prompts to collaborating poet traci kato-kiriyama. She conducted three minutes of “fevered writing” with each prompt. Here are the results. These words comprise the lexicon I’ll use to create my dis•articulations poem.
“ Lebanon officially bans ‘Wonder Woman’ from theatres ”
I wore gold cuffs as a kid, or maybe they were just pieces of foil or some kind of ripped fabric from an old t-shirt, but it didn’t matter. I felt powerful and besides always getting assigned the role of Chewbacca, once in awhile I would get to be Wonder Woman. And this was good, because she was, in my mind some kind of Asian lady. I knew Linda Carter was Linda Carter and that she certainly wasn’t Asian, but the comics were usually betrayed somehow when the Hollywood people took them in and then she got rebuilt again in my mind. It was always better that way.
“A World Ever at Its End ”
Somewhere over the rainbow. I remember hearing IZ singing this at the Rainbow or the Shell or was it the Bowl. or was it the Punch Bowl. No of course not. That’s where the soldiers rest. But it was more likely that I heard him in concert in Honolulu and then later once I bought all of his music that I heard his version of Somewhere over the Rainbow. And then Little did I know I’d get to see him walking in front of me someday in my dreams shortly after he died. Little did I know the radio would suddenly pick up on his promise after he died and the commercials ate him up and took him in without really taking him and his history and land and people. That’s what they do. The THEY that takes without wanting the whole truth of a spirit too big for them to house in more than a soundbite.
“Ash of the calyx of the eggplant ”
Calyx was a perfume or some kind of cologne that I swore was my favorite in high school. It smelled fresh and green and of a kind of scent that made me feel unique. Cuz it wasn’t the thick layered Giorgio of Beverly Hills that Mrs. S wore around town and wreaked of. So badly it seemed to get on her daughter and all of our friends. Little girls in Baby Guess sweatshirts who felt so bad for me that I had to take their hand-me-downs in big Hefty bags. What, were they crazy? I loved looking through their clothes.
“‘Faceless fish’ among bevy of strange species hauled from the oceans’ depth”
We are going to some kind of hell. All of us. Into a version of a hell that is appropriate for each one of us struggling with our own demons. The demons of hypocrisy. The facelessness that we who ignore and eat and walk past and overlook and invite out without really inviting in.. and we walk tall with a good sense to forget all the little things that remain without a soul in all of our wanting. And we all do it. So we are struggling inside to make sense and make amends and make promises and make something out of existence and with narcissism and productivity and praise and laud and and and so we are in it now. We are in it already.
Last week collaborating poet traci kato-kiriyama gave four prompts to me. I conducted three minutes of “fevered writing” with each prompt. Here are the results. These words comprise the lexicon traci will use to create her dis•articulations poem.
But in this dark moment of crisis, a handful of good neighbors emerged
My spouse believes there’s no such thing as a good neighbor. She resents anyone living around her, beside her, disrupting her with their sounds, their lights, their energetic fields. She would like to live far out in the country, with only nature around, although she gets mad at the wildlife too—the squirrels and raccoons and possums that trespass through the yard, help themselves to grubs in the vegetable beds. I’m grateful for the neighbors who help
How to defy the law of your own gravity and survive
You’re always defying something, it seems like. You’re late or you refuse to brush your teeth or you don’t change your underwear on the appropriate schedule or maybe you don’t even wear underwear. Or you don’t follow the instructions or you tell people NO all the time to just keep in shape. You don’t eat right, you feed your vitamins to the dog. You don’t pray, although sometimes you might lecture god for its negligence. You won’t even smile when, especially when, you’re told.
Energy is all there is
Energy is currency, is destiny is is is is. Silly humans to think any of this is real. We spin in the trance of maya, we clutch hold of things and refuse to understand they will dissolve under our fingers and even our fingers will dissolve. Now I’m older, I’m more aware of my own dissolving, a slow disappearance. I remember when I had more youth, more juice, more ambitions, more illusions, but there is kind of a relief in the emptying, even as it comes with a nostalgic pang.
Search for stellar survivors of a super nova explosion
Every time a star explodes the energy scatters in and uncountable number of directions and the energy attaches to other energies to form an illusion of a new thing, a new being. Everything that ever was still is but the form is changed, and all the knowledge of all the energy is available to everyone. So what does it mean to survive? To keep one’s form? Or are well all eternal survivors? From the Latin “supra vivere”—to live beyond. Lived beyond our perceived limitations, beyond our conceptions of ourselves.