Tokyo Winter
The snow like rain,
or rain like snow,
the illuminations like snow.
like retina memory or a screen saver.
the life is a fantasy tonight.
the winter snapping,
steaming drinks against your cheeks.
the mist overtakes us
and binds us together.
folds memory and nowness into one.
guitars echo and reverb.
Drum hits in tiny ear pods.
A billion songs in our pockets.
A million songs about Christmas in the city.
They zig. Then zag.
Laser lights, measured in tera-lumens.
Dissolving mist into some brand new day.
The years fold together like origami.
My origami life.
Printed out pages of blogs.
The internet on rice paper.
My tweets calligraphed by expert brushstrokes.
My memory is leather.
The singer’s voice is laffy taffy.
Unformed candy.
Stretched over beats. Electronic.
Life on rice. Rice cooked.
Rice papered.
Ink kills pixels dead.
Rice eats flat screens at dinner parties.
Snow falls as pixels.
pixels melt into concrete.
A thousand poems in your pocket.
Indexed by Google.
A thousand voices in the pocket inside the pocket.
Pockets earned and pockets shed.
Coat your voice in ink.
Speak in ink. Finger prints.
Beat the drum slowly. A real drum.
Listen to angry, determined jazz.
Give the gift of you.
Read and speak like you care.
No robots. No monotone.
Plugged into not electricity.
