Osaka Christmas Night '04

The drunken faces
of all these lovers shine.
Happy enough to give
it all away for the push
of a body on a body.

The train car lunges
and we all relax
into its destiny.

We crash with one
another together even
if we can't believe
the reality
resulting. "I love you" is
another way to know
the past meets
this breath we breathe.


by jerry gordon

The Only Trace

I have felt this
wind before.

How many
miles have we traveled
and corners have we turned
to meet this chance
by chance again;

Intimate strangers pass
through one another,
leaving their belongings
in each other's pockets.

Parting,
the only trace,
the lightness of not needing
goodbyes.


by jerry gordon

Crying From Our Autumn

A man shouts the reality of his
Canadian student debt
in the broken English
of talking to lost children
and pets. Words like
"government" and "money"
and "I no pay" compete
at a volume none of us want.

Three bundles of old flowers hang
from the ceiling. In ancient Rome
it means there's a secret,
so I wonder if we share it.
Will I realize what I didn't
know before I go?
Are these lines a part?
Is it the way
the face of the hunched girl
in the corner shines?

There are glimpses of color
crying from our autumn.

Another comes to this table
with blank paper and the hovering
pen of a poet.

I remember you,
black dragonflies.
The river still flows
your patient directions.

I will sing your song tonight
with just enough darkness
for you to find me here
lost
in the mountains.


by jerry gordon
cafe independent, kyoto 11.27.04