Poems
Canto
Why should I leave my escapades to the dead, scattered on the porch of a silent cathedral, before receding to the horizon where the sky folds itself into my dream? Would I have known in that sea of lamentation, sequestered in the corners of some distant morning, that the snow under my feet would at once, shatter like some barrelled exclamation? I am only some sort of feather drifting on, or else a breath of harmonies tending towards their bestial origin, miserably resurrected. Nonetheless the colorless blue nightwind bleeds and excoriates itself upon my laundered sheets, and I, transformed into some penitent Jeremiah when the groans and dissonance of a hushed fugue winds its way up the cracks in the darkness, retreat into the chambers of my irreconcilable and unextinguished past.
Tobias Irikura is a writer born and raised in New York. At the time of publication, he is hopefully a graduate of Sarah Lawrence College, where he concentrated in twentieth-century European literature and its intersection with classical music.