Day 155 – survival – Yumi; (WCC – Day 2)

Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Day 155
4:35 pm

survival – Yumi

the peacock pigeons came to swoop
her off her feet, yet again, where they
spotted her yesterday, crumbling at the
base of her kindred sequoia

she was mourning its decay, holding
in her hands a coronet of cornflowers,
pigments of ultramarine, sky, brilliant,
even phthalo and azure to emphasize
the depth of her hope for its survival

hunched over on her side, crying sloppy
tears onto the wilted petals, she offered
a deep moan in a rhythmic pattern that
captured the attention of the owl angels
during their watch last night

these were my roots, how can we let
go of each other?

her secret thoughts were not so secret
to the sage winds, the four-winged
gazelles, and the lion clouds sitting at
the crest of the horizon, thus the pigeons
coming to check on her posture today

keep moving, I know you’re reading
my mind, and who said you could do

every creature and energetic stone
turned their face to rest in a pause,
even the leaves on the trees stopped
this time, no one had ever called out
their mysticism for its nosiness

opposing the sensible trajectory of
nature, she decided to reject their next
move, not out of anger, but simply to
keep the record straight

don’t worry, I’ll let you know when
I really need you.

and just when the floating forest and
its entire world were about to draw in
the forces of her other dimension, she
called out for her serpentine rainbow,
painted a compass and decided to
take a drive

she winked

the forest mystics shook their head
and smiled

(inspired by Yumi Sakugawa)

WCC Day 2 – Week 1: Freedom & Nurturing

2. how sweet the sound

i want more.
i’ve always known this.

there were times i couldn’t do better
than to say i was sticking around
because i was a strong giver.

but i was just scared to leave.

then there’s that thing called
and it’s a pretty big word.

it feels small in my mouth
to try and say it out loud
when i’m not really practicing it.

gets backed up by pursed lips
that hide in between my teeth.

but it feels big and wild and Kindergartener-like
to exclaim it when i know it’s there past the
tip of my tongue, leaping out of my heart
toward the firmament, sinking into nothing
but good ‘ole, everyday action.

when i’m truly aware that i am in control
of my playground, my papers and my

when i’m trying my genuine best to extract
its actualization from others.

when i know what the fuck i’m talking
about when i say it.

out loud.



how sweet the sound.



About traciakemi

traci akemi kato-kiriyama - inter/multi-disciplinary theatre/performance artist, arts educator, cultural worker, community organizer. Tuesday Night Project; theatre, performance, writing, and teaching projects with many organizations and artists including: zero 3; Edge of The World for Asian Arts Initiative in Philadelphia and the National Asian American Theatre Festival in New York; "PULL" with Kennedy Kabasares in San Francisco; Nobuko Miyamoto and Great Leap Collaboratory I; TeAda; NCRR; Oymun's 11. Playwright for "Chasing Dad - a performance of a reading about a play i'm writing" presented by Inside the Ford for the Ford's Summer Playwright series. View all posts by traciakemi

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