Goto Islands Jun 27, 2008




FUKUEJIMA: 

Keep talking while I load the gun.
And remember, every death requires an essay.
I don't want to hurt you, but we don't write 'round here much anymore and
and this place needs more actual content. Let's begin.

No, no. This is just a string of (maybe-not-even-)aphorisms. Not believable at all. GOTO WAKAMATSUJIMA




HISAKAJIMA: 

here you may sit and reconcile with your dear departed atop
mountain , having entered thousands of torii the color sunsets never are .
they form a tunnel at the foot of the mountain and
and as you go(spots of sunlight filter through,you infer the presence
of trees)their orange frames are spaced,now inches , now feet  ,    now a
huge stone torii with a personality(as many rocks have,in shinto.

There are others here,around a tilted mirror
the mirror reflects the sky and says, "We have put a mirror here
as it is the smallest token You need that You might understand


You are confused; Fushimi Inari Taisha is four
hundred miles from the--GOTO NAKADORIJIMA



NARUSHIMA:

once, we wrote stories on the leaves of trees with Sharpie
not seeing a mockery of permanence in the face of inevitable winter
but secret fragments for others to find--
stories, hard to follow--the wind would rearrange them--
and now forests always put me in a treasure-hunting mood

GOTO HISAKAJIMA




WAKAMATSUJIMA:

A world of spaghetti, imagine a black cauldron full of those golden noodles, pockets of red sauce, and you dive in and struggle forward, swimming into a dimension completely filled forever with nothing but spaghetti and sauce and occasionally a meatball, dark and smothering lost forever in seas of pasta nauseatin--GOTO NARUSHIMA




NAKADORIJIMA: 


      Seriously, man.

I'm not kidding about that

     swastika balloon.



Sources:

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Goto Islands

links to:
- we don't write 'round here much anymore
- winterhaiku

all writing, chronological
next: internalizing the sky
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