Friday, November 20, 2009

tabi, zori, and juban 2

so the zori and the juban came in on the 7th! i had a friend bring them to be a couple of hours before it started so I could sew the chikara nuno i made onto the juban. it was horrible though! my juban was too long!!! so i had to fight and tuck it. i also had a hard time getting the zori straps loosened so i left them for another day. (it took me: 1 exacto knife, 1 paint can opener, 1 bottle of wood glue, and 2 hours to get them loosened 0_0 ) international night was ok. there were some people representing japan (wearing yukata) and... PRETIED OBIS. i wanted to scream, cry, and pull my hair out when i saw them i was so upset. especially since the average person wouldnt know too much about kimono... i couldnt really take any pictures due to the lighting troubles. at least the food was good.

wolf run 2

Wolf's Run [version 2]

I know why the wild wolf runs.

He runs to feel the sharp wind through his soft fur.

He runs to feel the hard, cold ground

Beneath his taut paws.

His feet thumping a repetitious rhythm

On a snare drum of ice and snow.

He runs to feel the beat of his heart

Blood coursing through his rigid veins

Warming his skin beneath the sharp wind

Which whistles through his flying fur.

His muscles scream in protest

Yet he doesn’t stop. He can’t stop running

His ears pick up the faintest scratch

His nose twitches as he smells a distant scent

Near indescribable through the rushing tumult

And his eyes strain through the falling snow

That rushes past his face

As his warm air crystallizes

Fogging up the air in front of him

His long pink tongue hangs out as he pants

Water sliding past his sharp, pitiless teeth

And down to cool his hot throat

Which stiffens as he summons up his remaining strength

To howl at the moon

And to begin his run again.

wolf run 1

Wolf’s Run [old poem, version 1]

I know why the wild wolf runs

He races to feel the sharp wind

Whistling through his rippling fur

In sharp gusts he can feel his breath

Searing his lungs with a rush of exhilaration

And his paws hammering the frozen ground

Muscles hot from continuous movement

Ears cocked and waiting

Straining through the sound of his thumping heart

Beating a tattoo against his ribcage

He can smell the rich tang of the earth

And taste the wind, heavy with sweet scents

Of herbs and berries

His movements are fluid like

Time flowing into eternity

He sees all through a rushing vortex

Of blurred, half seen shapes in his speed

His pink tongue hanging out, sides heaving

Panting and dripping flecks of water

As he feels the icy rush

Hurrying over his tongue

On its way to unknown seas

His throat tightens and his muscles tense

All time stands still as he sounds his voice

In a lonely cry

Through the crisp air of the full moon night