BAD BREATH POEMS

I HEART ROMAN POLANSKI

Wind is rattling my balcony railings. Aluminum. Or are my railings rattling the wind? All this Buddhist stuff confuses me. Wind moving, railings moving, mind moving? Anyway. When I was in Catholic high school growing up in Calgary, priests told us the purpose of life is to know, love, and serve God. Now Im walking to Kawaguchi Station thinking about God and watching crazy crows rip apart plastic garbage bags. Big Wind scatters greasy paper, empty bento boxes, yukky fish bones across puddled tarmac. The Old Boy dirty money party just won Japans Upper House election. Mind moving, crows moving, garbage politics moving? What with everything in this century falling apart, nobody knows what makes a good poem good. I cant stand Shakespeare, cell phones or the stock market and Switzerland refuses to extradite Roman Polanski to America where Larry King can ask, Where were you on 911? Naturally I was struck by how similar Swiss society is. So I go back to listening to my railings thinking about God and garbage and how much aluminum means to modern civilization: rain gutters, beer coolers, dirty money politics and why would Roman Polanski want to have sex with a thirteen year old bubblegummer anyway? Tokyo, Thursday, 07/15/10