This is poem "March."
Up in dirt alley, eat Korean food.
Drink white doboroku out of bowls.
Broil strips of beef and liver over coals.
Finish off with raw cow's womb in sauce,
jade white and oyster smooth.
Piss against the slab posts of the highways overhead.
Bar girl, girlfriend with a silver trinket cup
hung on a neck chain, she gives us all beer free.
Sift through night streets, Kato, Nagazawa, me, Sakaki,
Okinawan Awamori bar.
Clear glasses full up to the brim, like flavored gin,
must millet with chopped onion.
Whirl taxi by glass door opening sharks,
their eyeballs to the sky in coffee, tight buttress.
To station, where the world trains meet,
I south around the loop, yellow writhing dragon full of drunks,
and hall the windy concrete of Zojoji.