Chōka

To which one belongs
the gold word-fame of the day?
We each turn and say,
Not to me, and Not to me,
and with each instance,
as we pass it to others,
our own glory grows
and cements these new friendships—
and we know this as we speak.

Chōka

I raise up my hand,
and my liege glides to my side,
fits her hand on mine,
where we both swore it would rest.
As the sky bears down,
her weight is a light burden;
as the earth bears up,
I do my best not to quake.
We have this promise,
but I’m afraid I will fail,
drop her hand, and run away.

Chōka

They who prayed to the
antediluvian gods
and burnt offerings
died long ago, before time,
and no written word
records their zealous speeches.
They were washed away,
but we will last forever,
lost in a deluge of text.

春の歌 [Spring Song]

咲きがいつ。
暑い天気に
来る雪は
生まれる時の
めちゃくちゃを
短い日だけ、
一分だけ
包んで、残す。
春が汚い。

[When will flowers bloom?
The fated snow that arrives
in the hot weather
covers up for just one day,
for just one minute,
the filthy disorder of
the time of my birth,
then immediately leaves.
Spring is always so dirty.]

Chōka

I protect my eyes
from seeing and being seen.
What gets in gets out:
it's like doors, not osmosis.
It is only safe
in a realm of loneliness.
If I venture out,
will my eyes go out also?
Will they go closed or open?

Haiku

OMG, you guys!
Canada is, in fact, in
North America.

Tanka

Linguistics classes
are awesome 'cause everyone
sits around making
ridiculous foreign sounds:
it's so funny to hear it!

Englyn Unodl Crwc

When we laugh at him and root
for him to look dumb, or shoot
down his plans and make him mute, it's totally
because we think he's cute.

Englyn Cyrch

My peers' least favorite antic,
the one that drives them frantic,
is when I say what I think
in ink and am pedantic.

Tanka

Is the Sublime Force
inherently masculine,
as I heard her say?
Maybe it is, for I love
the Sublime and hate Woman.

Tanka

What is the essence
of an era lost to time?
Only words remain
alongside the voiceless mouths
of dull, unfaithful portraits.

Kokinshū

I'm shown a
bored woman. The shower
is the author of
a history that tears
my books in
slashed-up sections and the
enemy of the naturally evening
force of time. The woman is a
burner of offerings, a prayer
to gods of refinement, to
the gods of her elegant commune,
gods who celebrate this present beauty to
forget the future. The entrance
of disintegration into the world is
not yet come, and without
its vivifying presence, the
sense of things is towed out to sea, and the tower
is the endless stream of
dull daily existence and its content:
short poems, useless sleeves, gossip that leaves all agape.
The carefully chosen words that she
weaves, cut off from the warmth of the chanson and the lied,
the passion and
primitiveness of the
later world, are string she winds
endlessly into a ball, a buffet
of ephemeral delicacies, and time, the severer,
severs the string, more inevitable than
death. The era is a
task completed; the string is wound.
All is swept into the
rain-swelled sewer.
What can be said of
a people whose lives were mere recreation?
No trace of them remains, except for
coldly crafted words, the
children of sweets and sake,
and stylized representations of
dead persons that leave the
viewer lonely and invalid.

Tanka

1.
Maybe when you sense
that the top-ranking person
would maybe like you
to maybe shut the fuck up,
you should probably do that.

2.
Never, ever talk
for the benefit of those
who consider you
their peer or inferior:
they'll see it as showing off.

3.
It's embarrassing
to listen to idiots
display ignorance.
You guys all need to chill out.
Be normal. Seriously.

Tanka

The nights are still cold,
and I don't wear a jacket,
so the cold gets in.
In the same way, I read things,
listen, watch, and write my name.

Tanka

"The Lark Ascending"
is the most beautiful piece
I have ever heard.
It's well it has an end, or
I'd die of thirst, listening.

Tanka

Someone swore to me
that men and women can be
just friends. I think not:
I can't even be just friends
with my friends who are women!

Tanka

Before modern times,
people valued elegance.
Before ancient times,
they threw themselves in frenzies,
worshiping violent gods.

Tanka

Some subjects are thought
to be inappropriate
for our poetry.
No one wants to read about
your most passionate feelings.

Tanka

This girl in my class
is prettier than a boy:
but, looking sharply,
I see now that she isn't.
Beauty dies out so quickly!

Tanka

Under the pure snow,
the rotting leaves of autumn
wait to reappear.
The people around me smile
bright, pure smiles as white as snow.