An author writes many books, but I have only two of them but very good they are. When I wrote about her before, I received a response “I love, too.”, which connotes her latent popularity. Her poems are like Kaori Ekuni’s or, I dare say, like ones of more literary Erie Omiya.
Words were gathering
The whole body through
And suddenly spilled
Out of my mouth
To my surprise
A blank line between “Out of my mouth” and “To my surprise.” This is, what’s called, read between the lines. Here is a moment arisen when we hold a strong impression as a thing beyond description — it has a sense of its particular complexity itself. Although the poem excerpts just only a moment, the inherence of it is exquisitely expressed.
A following poem has no title, only three lines conversation.
“Didn’t you notice she was boring?”
I always love this one. It is surprising that our conversation, not special in our life, has an interesting taste when we consider again like this. As the book is a small paperback and only three sentences are printed in the middle of the page, they are like words picked up from our pocket. The person, saying “What?”, might be distracted or full of his own thought, so he couldn’t respond to the unexpected question “Didn’t you notice (THAT)?” He might be overwhelmed by her attraction or be talking and talking what he wants.
Poetry is a form in which one attempts to express what one wants in as less words as possible. I want to try to do so as much as I can, for, as far as I’m concerned, it is very simple what we do want to tell the other.