Skip to main content



There are no umbrellas in the war.

My grandfather held a gun
in the middle of nowhere,


His boots were
soaking wet by a mud

wall. When he wiped his face,
his commander smacked

his left ear. And then

the wall was riddled with bullets… 
His fellow Japanese dragged
their paralyzed legs. Their hands

smelled of piss and blood.

How difficult it was to set

fire on that day...........The dead bodies

smoldered from toes to fingers.

The commander rolled them over
with a long pole and asked
my grandfather to bring

more dried wood.

Their eyes glared into a meaningless


The commander’s name is Goro Inukai.

Punch him in the nose.

Popular posts from this blog

Amazon Best Sellers : Best Asian American Poetry #11

Thank you very much for purchasing my poetry chapbook, "Home, No Home". I am really REALLY thankful for your support.

Graphic Poetry - "White Avenue"

Graphic Poetry - "White Avenue"
Previous project - "On a Black Hill" This collection will be available from Tupelo Press.

Graphic (Visual) Poetry Project #2 - "Protest Against"

I name my project "Graphic Poetry". 
New Project #1: Japanese Apricot Wine
2013 Project #1 2013 Project #2
My poetry chapbook, "Home, No Home," is available atAmazon. You may purchase my chapbook & drawing at Etsy.