From the Obsidian Room — an immersive piece where words dissolve into moving light.
Past a field strewn with rocks, grass and knives, a child seen from behind gazes up at the dragon orb at the summit — seizing it precisely because he wants none. A cinematic poem of rising to overthrow.
On a hill where the sunset shows, even the blooming words are lovely, yet the sky is hazy. Will it rain, will the moon rise — a cinematic poem of words with nowhere to go.
Because it was you, I turned toward you. Smitten to the core by the words seared into my mind, I want to keep gazing up at your back — a cinematic poem set among deep crimson roses.
With its great body it swims on, the promised catch upon its head, careful not to drop the golden egg — waiting from afar for the day to sow seeds again. A cinematic poem of a whale in the deep sea.
As the white and black of a reversi board flip all at once, everything becomes a new law and all turns jet-black. My night has come — a cinematic poem of the turning board.
In the hot summer I hid among the ivy sprawling by the roadside, painted unnoticed on the wall — a cinematic poem of a presence lost in the leaves.
Think of you and I smile in a second. Any cold, all turned from black to white — a cinematic poem of a furnace-light that never fades, ever hot.
Angels gather, sharing in birdsong; no words are needed, for all is sustained by song. A cinematic poem of an olive-tree paradise.
I flew down and alighted at your side. You who are no one's servant looked up at the dancing flight and saw a bright future — a cinematic poem after Yosano Akiko's Midaregami.