Natsuko Hirata


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Trampled. Very special hurts.
My summer doesn't come yet.

Let's drop invisible roses onto the horizon

to be sure
I came.

Algorithm
tracks whenever
still they are speaking.


Hippocampus
is walking on the
piano keys.

My Roses--much better.

Blowing on you.

The Time Machine
 
     　　　　The time machine
                 　　　　　　　　　landed on
              　　　　　　　　　　　the sea side
                   　　　　　　　　　　　　when I 
                  　　　　　　　　　　　 was fish 
               　　　　　　　　　　　in the sea.
(But the color of the sea was not so good.)
 
                               Dredge.
 
I jumped into it to see the past
and could see 
                      　　　　　　　the future you.
     
                               　　　　　　　　 Windy, 
                         　　　　　　　floating tree.
 
                   　　　　　　　　You bore twigs,
                             　　　　　　as before. 
        　　　　　　　Conviction of that trunk.

Natsuko Hirata is a resident of Tokyo, She is the editor of Quince Wharf, an e-journal that includes translations into Japanese of poetry in English, and she has done translations of the work of Sandy McIntosh and Thomas Fink. Her poetry has appeared in the Marsh Hawk Review.
 
 
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