The Japanese Spirit (Not Saki)

The Japanese move porcelain-sweet mugs

And cups and kettles, decorated, fine

As April cherry blossoms, then as thugs

Men dive bomb as imperially divine

Themselves to slaughter guys on metal ships,

The roasting of the flesh, plunged yellow, white

Together, blazing meat and skin from hips

To unsuspecting eyeballs seared in fright.

As delicate as haiku on prim rice

Unscrolling scrolls, hands paint their pear bloom scenes

In mystic watercolors, prissy nice.

Planes blow the Navy Yanks to smithereens.

  Beware the culture that is beautiful

    But dedicated to the dutiful.

~ Phillip Whidden