Poem
Kiji Kutani
Hello Goodbye
Even if timestretched like taffy
from past to future —
that wouldn’t be so bad.
On waking in the morning
while brushing my teeth in front of the mirror
I could review over and over
a conclusion I’d just come to.
It’s okay. My face today
is no different from yesterday;
it’s not a bit ashen.
After I brush my teeth
I’ll put on some lipstick, get into my spacesuit,
and tumble on up
the morning-moist slope.
(running out of the front door
in my stockinged feet)
The butcher’s wife
calls “hello hello”
to a dirigible on TV
and cops
drop their lines
on shiny green lawns.
A vision of partition
blinding as thermal paper
presses towards my back
with fish-like rhythm
(for the habit of saying
an immediate farewell)
(to all those I’ve met
or collided with)
(let it be only a
wisp of wind)
(I still haven’t
found a cure)
so there you are.
© Translation: 2005, Juliet Winters Carpenter
From: Day and Night
Publisher: Yamaguchi City, Yamaguchi, 2005
From: Day and Night
Publisher: Yamaguchi City, Yamaguchi, 2005
This poem is based in part on the 1946 essay "Mujo to iu koto" ("On mujo") by Kobayashi Hideo (1902-83).
HELLO GOODBYE
© 2003, Kiji Kutani
From: Hirumo Yorumo
Publisher: midnight press, Tokyo
From: Hirumo Yorumo
Publisher: midnight press, Tokyo
Poems
Poems of Kiji Kutani
Close
Hello Goodbye
Even if timestretched like taffy
from past to future —
that wouldn’t be so bad.
On waking in the morning
while brushing my teeth in front of the mirror
I could review over and over
a conclusion I’d just come to.
It’s okay. My face today
is no different from yesterday;
it’s not a bit ashen.
After I brush my teeth
I’ll put on some lipstick, get into my spacesuit,
and tumble on up
the morning-moist slope.
(running out of the front door
in my stockinged feet)
The butcher’s wife
calls “hello hello”
to a dirigible on TV
and cops
drop their lines
on shiny green lawns.
A vision of partition
blinding as thermal paper
presses towards my back
with fish-like rhythm
(for the habit of saying
an immediate farewell)
(to all those I’ve met
or collided with)
(let it be only a
wisp of wind)
(I still haven’t
found a cure)
so there you are.
© 2005, Juliet Winters Carpenter
From: Day and Night
Publisher: 2005, Yamaguchi City, Yamaguchi
From: Day and Night
Publisher: 2005, Yamaguchi City, Yamaguchi
This poem is based in part on the 1946 essay "Mujo to iu koto" ("On mujo") by Kobayashi Hideo (1902-83).
Hello Goodbye
Even if timestretched like taffy
from past to future —
that wouldn’t be so bad.
On waking in the morning
while brushing my teeth in front of the mirror
I could review over and over
a conclusion I’d just come to.
It’s okay. My face today
is no different from yesterday;
it’s not a bit ashen.
After I brush my teeth
I’ll put on some lipstick, get into my spacesuit,
and tumble on up
the morning-moist slope.
(running out of the front door
in my stockinged feet)
The butcher’s wife
calls “hello hello”
to a dirigible on TV
and cops
drop their lines
on shiny green lawns.
A vision of partition
blinding as thermal paper
presses towards my back
with fish-like rhythm
(for the habit of saying
an immediate farewell)
(to all those I’ve met
or collided with)
(let it be only a
wisp of wind)
(I still haven’t
found a cure)
so there you are.
© 2005, Juliet Winters Carpenter
From: Day and Night
Publisher: 2005, Yamaguchi City, Yamaguchi
From: Day and Night
Publisher: 2005, Yamaguchi City, Yamaguchi
This poem is based in part on the 1946 essay "Mujo to iu koto" ("On mujo") by Kobayashi Hideo (1902-83).
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