Always Morrow

Come what dust. Rest there at the end of yesterday, upon roses and cold stone. End then that Lord of Verdigris and Rust. Dented helm, battered mail, sword that will nevermore be hefted. Let him lie as the road goes on. Through what ill, dark woods, past what frosted moor. There beyond alabaster cliffs. Another realm, another sea, one more shore, one more tide, one last ship. Come what may, in that always morrow. A golden torch that signals dawn, over the heathers and rolling green. Across there, and furthermore, and never look back at what dust had settled the … Continue reading Always Morrow


Hither upon what hint of winter. Not of sky, not upon its wind. That of what touches memory, and every hour upon the glass. Falling sand, cold. Moments feel icy, bare. Forward to that pale landscape. Forward, and less the dreams of warmth. Her hand in mine. Raindrops at one time, and a kiss stolen while they splash. All but snow now. Much like fallout, the bare ashes of what once was. Watching all joy washed away, then fade to black.   – Mitsuo Tanaka Continue reading Hazy


What specter visits me in these hours? In those I should hold her, alas not. What words should be whispered, yet held so tight in my chest. Stayed, as though held under ice. What dream would have me cry so much. There, in silence and dark, in my slumber she should be. May it then be the one time I hold her hand, the one time I look into her eyes. One kiss, and to part, yet this specter visits me all the more. – Mitsuo Tanaka Continue reading Break

Away in Dream

As it would be, it is dure. Time that would be so, it is thus. Time together should be so, alas not. Careless it is not. Callous, far from this. Just a moment more, such rare bliss. As much as the caress of her hand, as any kiss upon her lips. Far there, and away upon endless sea. Far it is, for these feet to fall upon those shores. Just dream, and know she’s there. In such sleep, I will find my way to her. – Mitsuo Tanaka Continue reading Away in Dream


Apricity upon the dark hours. Never wend, like some vagabond of old. Montivagant, searching for that missing piece. Upon the rolling green, deep in the heathers. Naught but cloak and boot, and the knives of every night stabbing all resolution. Not so, and she is here. In dreams, her luminescence, the touch of her hand upon mine. In the morn, her look upon me. Smile, the curl of her lips, laughter. Hold her close, hear her heart, know it beats just as mine. As one, as in love, as it always will. – Mitsuo Tanaka Continue reading Fortune