– “Chinchin puipui” farm, Japan
What unsettled me most
was not the ubiquity of bead curtains,
the awkward hand-drawn dragons
crawling across walls
or the fuzzy pink toilet seat’s texture.
It was the way the clock menagerie
chimed separate senses of time
scattered throughout the hour.
Cuckoo chirps, then Charlie Brown
Christmas jingles, later grandfather
clock bellows on and on. Adrift in time
I lay my roots in wandering soil.
Laugh track wafts over empty playground
while child in idling van watches cartoons.
His mother and I pry our horihoris
(father stayed home getting stoned)
beside ragged rosettes liberating dandelions
from earth carefully as if each was a rare
and precious jewel. I too feel like a weed
sometimes, amenable to any bare ground
but feeling nowhere at home.
I wish someone would delight
in my common flowers
roast my roots, savor my bitter flavors.
Frederick Livingston plants seeds, grounded in experiential education and sustainable agriculture. He hopes to grow poems, peace, mangos and avocados. His work has appeared in numerous literary and scientific journals, public parks, and bathroom stalls. His first poetry collection, “The Moon and Other Fruits” is expected in early 2023 from Legacy Book Press.