Angel mankeep growing those wingstogether we’ll fly out of here. Genie Nakano, on “Spillwords”, today, Sept.29,2020 November 3, 2020, USA votes– that’s when we fly!
music in the roomgets us rocking on our feetwe turn aroundLose our headsfall in love again Genie Nakano Genie Nakano originally published in “Coloring In”, tanka response/Gerry Jacobson/Coordinated by Amelia Fielden 2016 GINNINDERRA PRESS
Tombu means dragonfly in Japanese.
the little starthat keeps on blinkingI got your message the little starthat keeps on blinkingI got your messageGenie Nakano originally published in HSA Anthology, 2016
I wrote this poem long time ago–1999. My Dad, friends and myself made a small beautiful handmade book called “Pieces of Moon” which I sold at the Amerasia bookstore in Little Tokyo, Los Angeles California. “Pieces of Moon” sold out! For the past few weeks–insomnia has returned. My dog Toto injured himself and I’m upContinue reading “Insomnia”
let mebe a raindropfallingdeep into the earthwildflowers in the springGenie Nakano, 2019 This ‘death’ tanka was first published in a special feature — 25 death poems edited by Michael H. Lester for Atlas Poetica, 2019. “The genre of death poems has its origin in Zen Buddhism in Japan and offers a reflection on and natureContinue reading “A death poem…”
Originally posted on Genie Nakano:
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com a wise woman in Norwich, England once said “When we are old and careless” inside my bones clattered for a moment I was free. cold bones luke warm blood wrists of a sparrow no wings. my left hip clicks in a silver joint unstable yet…
Recreatingmy past in my mindoopps…underwater illusionscoming up for air Genie NakanoSept. 13, 2020, Sunday 9:15 AM
a wise woman in Norwich, England once said “When we are old and careless” inside my bones clattered for a moment I was free. cold bones luke warm blood wrists of a sparrow no wings. my left hip clicks in a silver joint unstable yet balanced titanium tensile strength decrees to out last me. somethingContinue reading “Murasaki”
A ballet dancer looks at herself in the mirror everyday as a matter of fact a check on reality a retired ballet dancer–facts change is that really me in the mirror the front or the back bring out the bike the scales take a walk retard–the old bastard of time some say lucky to beContinue reading “A Retired Dancer”