ODE 11

A fiery

Propaganda speech

In a primitive

Coffin scientific burlesque The muse

Is a lone shriveled tree I like to

Begin and end on

Cheerful(less) notes Years later

And much before you came

Every day in search

Of a (the) living I was

Never allowed to touch the

Camera peculiar measurements

Dotted with numerous reasons fog

Shrouds the jungle (the empire) now

I’m finally getting into the last

And darkest section (I wait patiently

For my turn) blending into the

Earth artificial crow tribal

Connection prescription for

Disaster tangible pathos with eyes closed

Looking long and hard at the photo blending

Into the earth’s enormous words (I made the

Same promise to

Myself busily constructing

Pure light elaborate furnace expansive

Death remote witchcraft

Emits a strong smell the inaccessibility)

Of the temple

ODE 12


my hand was dirty at

the bus station i tried

to hide my hand in

my pocket but it

became all sticky i couldn't release

it the bus terminal has no

end the train

im waiting for never



i almost . . . during it how

much his face showed he

cared how little i was cared

for how in comparison to

him could not

care enough because i used to

care too much and that did

me in so i decided then & there not

to care too much again and then finally

not very much at all this was

a gradual process


hystrionic timeout  stalemate contraindicated men

oh!, pause (don't stop)


that ended in today in this

question mark i

lie back and feel the chair(n) press

into me i lie

back and hope the chair will

wrap around me like you

didn't see

myself hug myself

and then i cry some

more i arrange

my body into the shape

of a question mark so

it no longer fits the

chair so i slide off

into another space that

has no end that wraps

me around like a question

mark that has no end but


ODE 13


for a category that does not exist

       had randomly struck when it comes

                   right down to it the dramatic impact

                               of TV simply does not exist a sense very

                                     close to joy which i have come to

                                          love more than before shown

to a stranger her effort

                   to hide that sad face on

                            account of the wooden architecture distilled

                                     a certain atmosphere perishing in due

                                             course secret in front of one's

                                                     eyes shrine in their memories the object

                                                           of their indignation repeatedly

                                                                changing when someone visits an

acquaintance from the past high rise

          buildings and pachinko parlors foreign

                  cars running there alongside something that has just

                          started now i got off

                                  at a station too small cameras jumped

                                          into view one can only smile pleasantly for

                                                so long it can be better than remaining

                                                        silent if i were forced to do something

a harmless lie for instance the

      most annoying thing about a modern person's

            writing there are several traditional methods of self-

                  improvement standing in a waterful in this sort

                        of situation for just this sort of beauty that simply

                              does not exist







apocryphaltext Vol. 3

Jane Joritz-Nakagawa’s poetry books are Skin Museum (2006), and Aquiline (2007). "Ode 11," "Ode 12" and "Ode 13" appear in Jane Joritz-Nakagawa's third
book, Exhibit C (Ahadada 2008). Email is welcome at janenakagawa at yahoo
dot com.


3 poems by jane joritz-nakagawa