【Download and Remix】

                                                                              Nagae Yūki x Jordan A. Y. Smith






Is the same old beginning––

 lightning in a sleeping ear, why……

Nothing sinks in, taken up in the faint Yamanote Line announcement,

 woken just in time: tangent aversion.

Whirled into thirsting exponents, exhales vapor, disappears into a vague interior.

 Gluttony, lust, avarice, wrath, sloth, pride, envy,

Analysis chances in the NASDAQian tide,

 Mercury teaches us breaststroke.

But the city remains uncharmed.

 Black goat white goat epistles,

Loop of annual fatigue.

 As though to seize the splendid echo of a symbol’s arrival,

The nimble circumference of revolutions reaches for the future.

 In the mountains, a butoh dancer waves déjà vu dosimeter

––in the city too, dragging the weight of many pounds,

 who’s doing the plowing, no one inquires


They follow,

 convoys preparing receptacles for jest transplants,

The interstices of the unraveled season

 ambition to measure them, plus hot pepper mists

Entangled in

 red threads of human bonds dyed in the laughter

Flickering off the enamel

 loath to surrender the stockpile of obscenity weapons,

Combing out the ends of plant-life,

 They were such beauties

Deep roots of sleep-talk slacken, collapse,

 in a land where the howls don’t carry,

Breezes silent into time’s intervals,

 absolute indecipherable Truth

The lights’ hazy glow

 steals in from the dimension of metal

The faint surface expressed through frothing hail,

 hesitant to divulge any wisdom

Cracks  rending

 dismembered by a smallness

Spring  ice  as we say

 finally comes whispering



Of bright evening cherry blossoms

 in sleep, the phoenix breathes sweetly, thrashes wildly

Above the open seams

 interlaced with guitar strings

Pecking at the heat flashes

 crafting lullabies from Revelation’s pitiful rags,

Calling the snow to melt, with a humming vitality


Their bustling din,

 let’s surrender it to rhythm.

The fluidity of their motions

  at the vow-inlaid dawn.

Beasts and  flowers and  grasses and such

 I’ll borrow their souls   just for a moment that

Meekly starts swaying

 even though misheard, as

Now just a beginning,

 novices cling to it:

The Beginning,

 charmed by the deaf-mutes who chow on it,


 the goats bellow, the willow’s gown holds a universe beneath,

Exhaustively forgotten,

 eyelids won’t open

Models for flickering memory—

 let us go to sell them to the flag factory.

In the silicate glass hues

 our character defects shine afresh,

their cracks widening,

 nude God of our own understanding,

Trembling, come undone,

 the spirits binding God’s shreds

Loosen, shaken by the aqueous scent,

 so cold though

sounds from cobalt ice

 pass down stories of kobold origins.

In hibernation,

 having known no pity for evanescence, a traitor awakes.

Bound in hexagonal crystal,

 corpse of a prophesy-distorting predator evaporates

Deep in the transparent gaseous layers

 laughter ripples the weave of molecules

Synched with the ether’s silver undulations

 inhale a prayer, and melt the mausoleum of geometry。