From the Japanese.
On the Tsientang River near Hangchow Bay, south
of Shanghai, soars a giant, stone, eight-faced
pagoda offering walks ’round its knees to workers,
soldiers, families. Massive old giant mortared by
boiled rice laced with fat and blood; few windows,
and small, open to the sun and wind.
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Without Its Skin
By Ooka Makoto, translated by Ooka Makoto and Thomas Fitzsimmons
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Without Its Skin
By Ooka Makoto, translated by Ooka Makoto and Thomas Fitzsimmons
From the Japanese. Without its metal skin Already have an account? Log in Join KR for even more to read. Sign up for a free account and read any five […]
Complete
By Linda Gregg
If death wants me, let it come. I am here in a room at night on my own. The pulsing and the crickets would go on. Everything and the tall […]
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