Its a cool sunny afternoon and Im heading towards Harajuku Station. The skys so clear I can see to the end of the universe, or at least to the giant KIDDYLAND, choked by spoiled brats whining for their Christmas due. Earlier I bought a poetry book then thumbed it over coffee and roast chicken at a new French bistro. The most memorable phrase was omnipresent God in Czeslaw Miloszs tribute to Allen Ginsberg. Streets are crowded with young people hurrying God knows where or why. BMW ads decorate white construction hoarding where the beat up old apartments once lined the boulevard. Two days ago 20,000 people died in an Iran earthquake. After the Great Lisbon Earthquake people lost faith in the omnipotent God who could do no evil. When I phoned my father in Calgary yesterday, it was frozen winter, then around noon a bunch of us had brunch at the Hilton in Shinjuku. Im writing a satirical poem awarding dubious achievements to the nasty dishonest mob gutting our globe and poisoning the environment. If everything is God then we can choose a better path than the disastrous road were heading down now. Old Harajuku is giving way to snazzy name brand boutiques selling the same stuff I see in Paris, Madrid and Hong Kong. Slack faces sit smoking along a low pipe fence waiting for concert tickets.

Harajuku Mon 12/30/03