The Immigration Office
Tidying up at the moment and I found a stack of old notebooks. Here is a poem I wrote, if I remember correctly whilst enjoying a coffee of two at the Red Rubber Ball cafe in Kyoto sometime around 2001. I quite like the way it lends itself to the use of blockquotes.
The Immigration Office
i.
itching at the four
cardinal
points
of the
body
bites scratches
scars
ii.
twenty five year old
white
male
kyoto
espresso
New Zealand like a Cronenberg film
iii.
recurrences, reiterations
new t-shirts
old techno
strong coffee
uncut fingernails
accretions, accelerations
iv.
a slowly dis(s)olving language
synonym
risky
homograph
difficult: sentence pattern
v.
here. how different
bright colours
explode
on the
street
from the north
vi.
these people so japanese
brash
bright
bold
colour symphonies
and so very (un)japanese
viii.
there poems are
readers
digestive
condensed
biscuits
their ellipsism stands them
vii.
are you thinking about
shabu
techno
tattoos
motorcycles
I am. am I?
ix.
are you thinking about
crystals
ink
rubber
You are. are You?
x.
in the north
All they
say
about
country music
holds true for WB
xii.
a flow of people
young
younger
youngest
youth
past the window
xiii.
the little orange gates
see
attached
photographic
samples
the paint is flaking
xiv.
A waitress
“I
terror”
t-shirt
bleached permed bunned up hair.
xv.
bring
me
another
cup
of
coffee
please
xvi.
shopping shopping shopping
this
nothing
like
home
sale? BIG OFF!
xvii.
the sad thing is
the tourists
video camera
strafes the cafe
in your arms
you can’t love anymore
xviii.
it is 18:01
031
061
001
Sat
we are, reliably, informed.
xix.
terror worldwide
stenciled
across
her
book
I doubt she knows the implications.
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