ALL NIPPON POEMS

REAL JAPAN

Im doing all my best, giving 100%, trying as hard as I can to find the real Japan. Because I know somewhere beneath the transistors and bad hairpieces lies genuine Nippon, the real thing, ware ware authenticity just waiting to be discovered. Somewhere under the mindless playstations, terrible television and justintime production lurks the true Japan, the deep rich culture Gary Snyder lured us into forty years earlier – enlightened serene land of Zen mountain vegetables tea gongs happy husbandmen resolutely working mystical mistshrouded rice paddies. Because I know behind the No masks hiding those dull frozen exteriors inside of which lie dull frozen interiors, somewhere resides genuine Japan, sun rising over nondual one-pointed Be Here Now cosmic bliss. No. Japan isnt just zombie salarymen grogging jammed morning trains lurching along buttcovered sidewalks chilling in front of imbecilic dorks shouting dumbass crap while airhead yahoo gals giggle-shriek fake astonishment on totally witless wide shows. Japan isnt just the worlds worst political dirtbags sucking nicotine teeth promising to do their best after getting elected on the Im running for office because I want to be Prime Minister ticket. Japan is more. Much more. The elusive frog jumps into silent pond – kerplunk Japan. The Zen master keeps filling the chattering European professors tea cup until it floods the tatami mats, Japan. Snowcapped elegant Mount Fuji Japan of thundering cataracts, cedar scented meditation temples, mind body spirit harmoniously united with the one vast rolling on forever fantastic universe. Tokyo, Sunday, 05/31/09