Cleaving Mishima

Yukio Mishima
—for Donald Richie

I used—a candle flame
to light—my cigarette
toward the end—hemingway
got his attention—so butch

he booked—a room
at the—tokyo hilton
to be—unrecognized
for writing—alone
the other—purposes

we talked—but not
usually—literary matters
on the outside—he was
confessions—of a mask
chilly like—the snows of

he lived it—more than
just writing it—saint
sebastian—the fantasies
some men get—after a
sudden—spastic insight

the last—samurai’s act
leaving us—flabbergasted
his chorus—readers and
friends—what a waste

why do we—take things
so seriously—introverted
97 lb weakling—then
intense bodybuilder—why
the hemingway—façade?

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