ISSN 1551-8086
return to home search for a contributing writer

seach for poems by title

archive of previous issues submissions information mailing list online store links to other interesting sites contact us  
  April 2019
volume 16 number 1
-table of contents-
 
  home  
 
  featured poets
  Rich Follett
  Dani Raschel Jiménez
  Terry McCarty
  Simon Perchik
  Kevin Ridgeway
  Opalina Salas
  Annette Marie Smith
  Jan Steckel
  Lois Michal Unger
  Amy Uyematsu
  Viola Weinberg
 
  home
  poets
  poems
  archive
  submissions
  mailing list
  store
  links
  contact
 
Amy Uyematsu April 2019
   

 

bio


photo by françois biajoux

    Amy Uyematsu is a third-generation Angelino. A poet and former high school math teacher, she currently leads a writing workshop at the Far East Lounge in downtown Little Tokyo. Amy's most recent book is Basic Vocabulary (Red Hen Press, 2016).

   

 

& my five desires

-- after sesshu foster’s question


i

riding a long, long breath
in a B-flat minor saxophone riff
to know the full arc of that unexpected song
where every single note
belongs


ii

another bowl of pozole
with chopped avocado & tequila chasers
in sizzlin' zihuatanejo

shops abuzz
in espanol, aztec trinkets,
zapata t-shirts to bring back home


iii

my own einstein light bulb –
or at least a friendly
neighborhood mechanic
to navigate the how-and-why
of my cell phone or cable t.v. -
all voodoo in my ever humbling
electricians-and-geeks-are-like-gods
capitulation


iv

cartilage for these broken knees
a new meniscus or patella
so I can kneel on the ground
to play with a grandson
pull weeds from the garden
scour my bathroom tiles


v.

just one more desire,
for just in case –
gourmet or folksy
as long as it's 100%
like real butter, leaded gasoline -
sweaty, earthy pungent,
even slightly toxic

one last tickle, grab & hook
                    for an aging girl like me





copyright 2019 Amy Uyematsu

   

 

Voracious

- for my sister poets

I wouldn’t call you flamboyant
well maybe a little bit wild
the same gluttonous glint
in your eye, a throbbing
from eardrum to womb

no matter how small
you keep singing
the moment
scraps of shimmer and dream
that you scribble and store

you live for the click
when it all comes together
your guts and your brain
in such hard-earned
effortless breath

until dark bleeds
into light
so luminous the lines
sweet incantations
kissing the tongue









copyright 2019 Amy Uyematsu