Under a hollow sky
grey worn concrete listens
scream of a solitary car.
“Just want to write something. anything. been too long. Mind, liquid pencil. You know.”
Jazz tickets on the dash.
(solo performer – no net over absurdity)
“Write about that..”
Street lamps recede infinitely
fathomless ether’s lost
slipstream of rust swallows all.
“See what he’s like first.”…”Your call.”
There’s a tug, a pull towards
the light and motion
the swirling abstraction
luminescent dance in glass and shadow
seeping out of brocades of steel and concrete
the city at night
night tides thick with colour.
“Empty road, inviting city. Very Kerouacian.”
Car screams a little louder.
The outskirts come into view.
Empty streets repeat in circle
asphalt constant self devouring.
Neon hums, street lamps chatter
sidewalk smoke ripples
reflections upon reflections.
Jazz tickets slide across the dash.
Chicken broth of ancient forever
rides night airs
long ago memories
fast filing seats, flavours upon flavours.
we just follow the way.
Neon roar echoes in hollow factory caves
colourless flames abstract burn.
There, under the
Ashen Dragons gaze
empty seats, luck that can’t be passed up.
We eat noodles under starlight.
Ashen Dragon, indomitable
Stage lights roll.
hangs in dust.
In the hall, over the seats, over the stage.
Jazz tickets now stubs now becoming cranes.
Silence, bass ambles forth.
First steps turn into
accumulation of mistakes
collective hang in red dust.
He tries everything. Arco, pizzicato,
bass as percussion – devoid thumps.
He’s patient though. Amidst the inferno,
there’s the sense, the knowing, he’ll find the way.
He stops. Stops seeking. Turns to sought.
IV (Musical Interlude)
A thread only he can see
faint, and fainter still gossamer.
bow swish arc, tentatively ensnared
dark enigma thread entwined among bow strings
a weave drawn into a screen
across the stage wall.
Abstractions start to turn into form.
immortal peaks of gleaming jade.
innumerable valleys of shining emerald.
Tips and taps
river flows, duckweed and herons
hermit huts in forest and moss
troops of gibbons with melodious howls.
Tunings align with heavens changes
cherry blossoms bounce on singing winds
oriole songs drift through five willow forests
recluse paths swept clean of tumbled pine cones
pines rest under blankets of silent white.
Across the stage
crafted in pregnant emptiness
the ancient forever
in a down town dive.
Two cranes rest on a table.
Re-emergence under the
“…there’s truth in abstraction.”
still luck runs.
Noodles under starlight,
and sky grey caravans.
“Nice title…hanging around?”
“Catch the train back, gotta write this.”
“See you soon. Stay safe kid.”
Ashen eyes flicker
words clatter by under a neon gaze.
First image from here: http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/5/59/City_Street_Slow_Shutter_%28Night%29.jpg
Second image from here: http://juang.bst.ntu.edu.tw/JRH/Kyoto%202006B.htm
Third image from here: http://mog.com/LadyC/blog/181701
Fourth image from here: http://www.art-virtue.com/painting/history/sung/sung.htm
Fifth image used in a previous post, City At Night, Ode to Blade Runner, credited there.
This poem is out of my comfort zone, begun life as a fiction piece, and has badgered me for nearly or a year. So it’s nice to get it out there. Also an homage to one of my favourite musicians, Motoharu Yoshizawa.