NICOLAS GATTIG

NICOLAS GATTIG

Omelet Revision

at the philosopher hospital

the forecast says: clouds for all of us!

where the colors have breakfast

the omelet spy serves

all-American ghosts

why the butter exclusion?

and should I obsess

about eggs?

under water

awakened by earthquakes and

jolted loose

we watch tumbling chips

of colored glass in kaleidoscopes

revolution problem

while god is looking

for a parking space

a sparrow brawl, a faddish evolve

a matter of life

and death

an act of revision

suggesting a process

too slow

Methadone California

the monkey on your back

is a rubber ball longing

to snorkel in Dead Sea exploits

selfishly hapless

a baby—all need and

no taxes

I learn on the phone that you have

dumped…chiva!

subcutaneously

you have left her solace

a cold swaying daze in arcane hotels

for the other side

where your veins no longer

carry blood and shame

to the heart

again it is time for tomorrow

and you sit in the sun writing letters

explaining the past

(so much past)

aware dimly of music and lights

and the mumble of smarmy buffoons

the rolling waves of the ocean

in whose beauty lies

expectation

in short: things that scare

rehab monkeys

chiva hides in a pouty tower

scanning endlessly an unruffled sea

for a rubber ball

to pop up

what

will you do?

Shinobazu Pond Sunrise

a narita mess, a surrender to storm

that ends in ueno

where the summer slips into fall

and cicadas scream life more urgent

than a teenage feed

needing love

at the old shitamachi museum—no guessing

what happens here—a tanned man wearing shorts

and a soiled brassiere

hails the day with a can of asahi

sweat on his back in a hardened dream

of escape

a lotus urge chokes the pond

and a shape on a bench (the homeless – all of them

men) reads a paper with timeless care

finding out about people and things, how it all

connects

beyond what he knows

in japan

somewhere around here Seidensticker

mused about Tanizaki, then tripped and fell

into a coma

time to get back in the shade

as the park keeps humming its solitude

the sun is

killing me

NICOLAS GATTIG

NICOLAS GATTIG has published short stories and poetry in various magazines, including Asia Literary Review and Foreign Literary Journal. He is a Contributing Writer at the Japan Times and will soon publish a collection of his stories. Nicolas lived in Europe and Japan, but finds himself most at home in the San Francisco Bay Area, California.