Chiba Japan: Living Journal Life In Music

Lonesome Bike Boy

Gumyo Beech Roof

Time to take my time.

Open the door and stick out my hand, finger the first bite of winter.

No matter, a morning without a roof makes up for the hours.

I often wonder

about a life spent out beyond the city limits.

Gumyo Lanes

It’s all tied together

in lattices of stories and building frames,

back along the old ways, when and where our tails meet.

Blow on your hands,

see the billowing breath of others who’ve stood here before.

Gumyo Bamboo Fence

Past, past doors and windows.

I can’t wait for a nod or a friendly hello.

The wheels grind crusted dust,

the hub of a possible breakdown.

Sorry, sorry I have to go.

Gumyo Farmer

If you wait long enough

the sprouts separate the asphalt

and conjure up a potpourrie we all remember.

It doesn’t take any sleight of hand

to dig and let loose the straw.

Gumyo Sea Track

When I was a boy

the wind was my friend. I laughed

when the trees swayed and dragonflies

blew west into the setting sun.

Now I clutch my hat, bracing against the cold.

Gumyo Gingko Shrine

Hold on there,

why don’t you pick that up?

Everything has fallen here, but that doesn’t mean

any old tossing of litter

earns its place among the bones.

Gumyo Old House 2

I remember when Mama took me into the garden

and we buried Melanie (the hamster)

among the roots.

Soil dashed across her body,

forever clothed in loam.

Gumyo Roof Leaves

The cat she settled in the stillness,

pricking her ears for

scratching feet. A crow sailed

over, eyeing branches.

She curled up, hidden from view.

Gumyo Boots

8 replies on “Lonesome Bike Boy”

plait mo su butuki mas deki hanzai por favor. babaconoosh. mai lai tai pai aloha. moshi smash. yes that’s right i said hello! a. that a means how are you my day is good and i want to know what you’re doing! in my language. i caome from tanzaniapanerica, spain.


“I will not tolerate…..”. Interesting words coming from a guy that I assume feels that we don’t have enough tolerance in this world. And what happened to freedom of speech? Oh, I guess that’s just O.K. unless you disagree with what the speaker has to say. Buddy, you’re way to sensitive. That joke was not the least bit racist. Stupid, yes–but racist, no. I learned it from an 8 year old that I know for a fact isn’t racist. Hell, she can’t even spell racist.


Haiku, it would have been nice to tell me that an eight year old said that. I don’t know who you are or what you feel or think so the only way I can interpret what you wrote the other day is that you are an adult with strange ideas. It’s not about whether I have a sense of humor or not, or whether I am tolerant or not, but mostly about my readers and how they feel about things. A large number of people who regularly stop by here are Japanese, though they rarely leave comments. What you wrote wouldn’t be either appropriate or understanding of how they feel or see things, especially because, being Japanese and not fully understanding the nuances of English, they wouldn’t be able to get what is funny about what you wrote.

Madoka… interesting mix of different languages. I assume you’re an American.


herro butuki. i no american. i tanzanian. and i speak good world languages. it just come to me. like sleep. shank you for notishing.


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