Anonymous Landscape
For Connie Crothers

Yuko Otomo
September 2016

Anonymous Landscape
(Connie Crothers & Yuko Otomo Duet Project 4. 9. 2015)

 

1.

outside the window

no noise
just wind
roofs with no names
no towers with names to sell anything

streets
corners
crossings

lampposts with no names

a room
with no noise
but the sounds of a bell
ringing through the glass window

a wind & its sound
with no shadow
in the sky
which has no name

hunger
desire

an unsolved blank paradise

let me open the window

let me look at the tree
reaching  tot he sky
as tall as the top floor balcony
I stand on

Let me forget it’s called “a tree”
Let me forget the noun/name we assign to it
To carry itself along with

Let me remind me of the fact
I breathe the same air/light with it

Let me realize it’s me

 

a reality of blessings & curses

&

a magic/sorcery

 

god/gods with no name
called with a variation of names

by us

how do their roles change
if we stop calling them by names at all?

 

in the ocean of people
I hear my name called
I turn around to look for the source
as others with the same name do the same

 

in the ocean of wild flowers
I notice one flower
I know the name of

&

feel so intimately close to it
as if it were my own image
reflected on water

 

another bell ringing;
another day of being human
in an exiled land
she is not alone

she has her “other” half
better or worse
that always reminds her
both sides of the self
a half & a half
they make a full circle
like the sun & the moon

they carry each other’s suffering/joy/pleasure

like clouds

an afternoon
with a voice of an anonymous cantor
& sounds created by an anonymous instrumentalist

all merge
into a magical realism
of life

an afternoon
with a voice of a human
& sounds of another human
playing various instruments
made by other humans

 

a moon-shaped eternity
a sun-shaped moment-now
a star-shaped flavor of time

all a puff
a bubble
a breath
of nothing/everything

birds do fly
& come home
to sleep

in their nests

without thinking
of human words

 

a beautiful little girl
with a beautiful girl’s name

she shines her eyes
whenever she hears
her beautiful name
is called

a beautiful little girl
knows her name well
& she knows it’s hers

a flower bed
floating in the air
greets the sun-setting beautiful sky

a little girl loves her name
& she knows it’s hers

 

ladies & gentlemen

it’s time for us to light candles

we are ready for the rehearsal
of our show
of the “Final Divine Comedy”

it’ll be in an open format
we’d invite all of you to join us
in spirit & in body
so we’ll make this show
a total success

ladies & gentlemen

 

let us start our “Anonymous Landscape”

blood red
wine red
& fire gold

le chant
la musique
la comedie
la dance

an anonymous joy
of living life
whether it’s a comedy
or a tragedy
or a tragic-comedy
or a comic-tragedy

oui!   yes!

hop, step, jump!
although it’s still
unknown & anonymous

the landscape is familiar enough to us

now

we do not need a map
to know where we are
no quarrels
to go back & forth
on the same blvd
to redefine
the direction
no expectation
no disappointment

do not calculate
on future
based on things
past

whenever it’ll happen
it does happen

it has nothing to do
with your wish or hope

drop your shoulders
since there is nothing
for you to carry

named or unnamed
you live to die to live

how miraculous it is
to truly feel the fact that
“a desk” was once “a tree”

this floor, ceiling & window frames, too,

with no name

 

trees; trees, trees; flowers & weeds…sky, water & earth…

& air we all breathe, not just us humans…everything & everyone…

even a pebble, a shadow, a memory…

we all breath…

 

being fair means nothing but to have
a new attitude of being fair

being fair in all accounts
requires a life-long learning of things

things at the end
mean
noting

&

nothing is not
always everything

 

 

2.

I sit by a globe
where a big ocean spreads
across the sphere

I see an island
where I was born
among many islands scattered around
in the waters

I turn the globe fast
as I try to feel its smooth shape

 

 

it is a glorious “sun”ny day & it’s Sunday

on a steep hill, people lay & rest as turtles do in the sun

various shades of fresh green leaves flicker
& change every instance

a massive anonymous collective “us”
is one united “being”
sharing the same sentiment toward the sun

we look up to the sky, to the sun, opening ourselves to the glorious void

we forget words in general except the word “the Sun”

 

on a glorious day of the sun

I see many things –

 

an old woman who reminds me of my mother because of the way she dresses in a harmony to the colors of the season’s delicate feminineness; babies in baby carts; parents pushing them; magnificent street performers & their spectacles; endless variations of color “green”; the cloudless “light blue” sky in the city known for its variation “greys”; menus of the restaurants; windows with flowers; windows closed & opened; iron fences & wooden doors; old walls; a lone restorer of old paintings in her back alley workshop; a lone clavier (piano) maker in his small workshop in the same back alley; a dog with a social study specialist book store owner; good bookstores with works by great writers I admire; street cleaners; garbage bins & litters on the side walks; a man spitting; a woman yarning; a baby smiling (at me); leaves trembling; birds flying; birds walking; birds hopping; store signs blinded by the sun (light); people’s shadows of well defined human physics; stores closed because it’s Sunday; men hanging out in the street not because it’s Sunday but they have nothing to do; cheap used clothes hanging on a rack; metro tracks; flower shops in full bloom; roses starting to bloom; nameless flowers of weeds in the streets; stray cats; a crushed piece of fried potato under the sidewalk café table; steps of a church occupied by humans; people eating ice cream; people eating lunch; people drinking; foundations sprouting & gushing water; traffics; bakeries with almost sold-out shelves; an empty crepery in an empty back street; cafes full of people; old theaters with old signs; lampposts; shoe stores; antiques stores; closed super markets; buses; cars & bicycles; people walking & people working; people cooing; parked cars; traffic lights; people buying; people selling & people resting

in a glorious day of the sun

I see thousands of things & phenomena
comfortably blinded by the  intense brightness of the day

I see the shared anonymity
without detailed particularities

in a glorious day of the sun, in April,

we are all nameless cosmic dusts

stitch by stitch
somebody with a name
but known to no one
fills the fabric of his life
with an image of
worms, fish, flowers,
weeds & a woman
with anonymous tears

 

two men talking
two animals talking
two men with hats on fighting
two pagan stories told
two notebooks burnt
two names disappeared

 

laughter over anger
please, no matter what

 

form & content
music & sounds
taste & flavors

colors & images

words & meanings
words & meanings of words

interpretation & misunderstanding
mistranslation & accurate as possible translation
traveling over the mountains & the seas

sharing something we’ve already shared
as if it’s a brand new experience
“poetry”
& its big family tree
behind & in front of
various languages

 

I don’t see it
but I hear it

I hear it
I hear it

light shifts
very slowly
telling me
to forget
the passing of time
to be mad about something
or about someone
is totally useless
when you know for sure
one day you too will depart
this world

 

a beautiful girl
arrives in our world to join us
after a long sleep
in water

now she sleeps
sweetly in air
dreaming of the memory
of her long journey

a dream
coming true

sleeping
she teaches us
to be “sound”
& to be “alive”

 

3.

an anonymous rain

falls
all day
on flowers & trees
with names
they don’t know
they have

 

everything was
nameless
when day & night
was just born

 

“inspiration”
is
(by nature)
anonymous

likewise
it is a verb

like
“rain” (ing)

it needs
no name
no reason
no purpose
no destination
no direction

but

its own
anonymous
logic

a scale

going up & down

written & erased
played & erased
painted & erased
danced & erased
talked & erased
acted & erased

reveals

its own logic
of metaphysics

a piano
a guitar
a pen
a brush

a dark rainbow
of mysterious dreams

a voice
muted
shouts
to the sea & to the sky

“Erase Everything”

erase & let it be blank
erase & let it be void
erase & let it be nameless

a scale

going up & down

sings
a logic

of

its own life

 

we walk a long way
on a perfect day
without getting lost
or  without having an argument

(what a joy!)

we take a rest
sharing a park bench
with strangers
exchanging smiles
but not words

(what a miracle!)

we sit
doing nothing
but being
our resting selves
contemplating everything
around us & in us
in silence

(oh, what a happiness!)

we ourselves turn into benches
that was once a tree
standing somewhere
feeling the breeze
on this earth
as we are doing now

we turn into a sky, shadow, light & a breeze

 

we see strangers who share the bench
& passers-by in our views as ourselves

finally

nothing is strange
but totally NORMAL

(ah, life!)

 

we are free
from words & word (ing)
just being part of
this perfect weekend day
saying nothing

(a magic!)

we sit, see, hear, taste, feel
& become the moment now

together, we realize

we are eternity
in eternity

being eternity

in eternity

 

(ahhhhhhh….)

 

This version is from the original Anonymous Ladscape: a 200 parts poetic meditation on anonymity & nameless-ness exclusively for the duet performance for Connie Crothers & myself that took place on April 9, 2015 @ Evolving Music Series presented by Arts for Art @ Clemente Soto Velez Cultural Center, NYC.

I’d like to dedicate this poem to Connie who gave us so much in such a superbly generous manner, showing the brilliant example of “what it means to live true to oneself.” Connie has not left us. On the contrary, she is here with us every moment we breath. We can talk to her anytime we want & we need too. She answers us all, together or separately, in her beautiful sweet voice, smiling & laughing.