Dominique Hamon


FOR FUJIKO-SAN

Mid-spring. ‘live at least—a festival 
a dance
in the night a Golden bird 
which sails in mystic isles.
Chula my crush, chula my 
love. 
Genji married his daughter 
Murasaki.
He was her teacher & her 
slave. Mesmerized by her ass.
The court 
was blind. 
She gave him spring-shoots 
for his birthday—lavished  
picnics at Shinjuku Gyoen. 
Glance my way my love, my crush!  



POEM FOR MAY 28th

Begin here, my friend. Begin where you can.
                            Is there 
                            anger pent up within?
                            Is there resentment?
                            The sound of the city 
                            is steam—florescent.

                            I waited for her but,
the heart of a woman—who can truly know?
                            In the desert lands
                            a mirage-like figure
                            sways with the punches.
   

                  Our nature is to seek; the sun
                  the moon in the morning sky.
                  “It doesn’t matter,” we tell ourselves. Nothing was the same again
                  but the burning maple leaves.

Dominique Hamon is a philosopher of language, & geographical trends. Born in Toulouse, France. There are two women whom he loves. There is, in the sky, a cosmic note that lingers.

 
 

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