Motoori Norinaga stumbles through Shibuya at 2 am
There, where towers rise like science fiction
below new stars that flare (in the East) pink
and green--spin in shifting constellation--
the video oracle drifts alone
in the flash-bright dark, in the whirlpool noise,
doll-huge eyes glitter out infinity,
sparkle GAME OVER at desperate boys:
She's teaching them, she's teaching them to pray...
Fox girls table dance in blister-slick red
vinyl; school girls load their cells with plastic
good luck charms: "that which possesses," he said,
"supernatural power and should be held
in awe." The new gods are all pocket-size
and cheap and everywhere. And old gods die.
published in Windfall, Truman State University literary magazine (2002)