2 January, 2024
when I put my face in the cassette tape
it rolls me through like komo-rebi.
I walk through my face, the sound of
my face.
a drift of leaves like yesterday’s earthquake,
I stare at Koji Yakusho’s face, all the emotions
that have every existed appear one after the other
in the lines of his skin, the corners of his eyes,
emotions like elephants walking in a line,
gripping each other’s tails. my
cassette brain, replays the earthquake,
distortion upon distortion, the building
bends spiders out of their nests, the pigeons
circle above the slow sway of
Sachiko Kanenobu’s serene voice, I
drink a forest of coffee, let it cassette through me,
I throw away last year’s protective arrow, a
vector from the epicenter, a seven-story
building has exceeded its elastic potential.
not my
building, the pigeons, the spiders,
I sleep with Koji Yakusho’s face under my pillow,
I roll a cassette tape beneath my fingers
trying out the magnetism, feeling it
on my skin like the
resonance diving from the interpolates
2 January, 2022
when I put the needle in the groove
there is a microscopic earthquake, Glass
Tube strobes out of the speakers
the world is opening up
again, I have been
in the groove for too long
in a coffin in the groove
and so many people have died, but
a voice from the cocoon jumps out
at the end
like that time I put my ear to
the drain tube in the bathroom
and I heard the crystal voices
of all the dead friends, chorusing out
in handfuls
Trane bio and url TK