Short Works
The monster is summoned. The monster is created. It doesn't ask to be, and it doesn't ask for permission.
We are not sleeping well. Our eyes are open. Perhaps the bed is too hard, says the one. The bed is not too hard, says the other. Night is over. The bed is unmoved. It is not the first time.
"So, seriously if you wanted to get out you would get arrested." She's sitting in the intersection with about 60 others, surrounded by cops in riot gear. They begin a slow advance. Someone spits.
As the yokan was served, I remembered a certain woman, Kuniko, who sold the family she knew she couldn't eat for a very reasonable figure. Kan'ami and Shigehira liked to buy printed material from her, too, health food texts published in China, how-tos for bunjin-ike and the buying and selling of fetuses.
Umami or the taste of absence, a fading bell,
like the fraying seam, anticipating the next tie or pair of shoes.
The change of lines.
Where does reading happen?
Not on the page, the screen: text needs enlivening, needs to get out of its margins, needs a space in which to act. The reader hears a voice, yes? And then there’s a light, motion....
