Hands up who’s willing to pay the price
for something that will accomplish nothing
harmony of Pen & Sword.
The spiritual army is written in blood
but to die properly one must grunt
like a samurai and love torture,
wear writing like a uniform: early mist.
Gold pagodas are just one path.
Stepping, the mind makes up its mind
the warrior writer said he’d die
if he couldn’t write one more line
one more line
one more line of Kanji
printed on a serviette
folded over & over
into a swan flying out of the hands
of the courtesan
serving tea in Mr Mishima’s novel
that got away.