the poetry that matters

Toshimitsu Kareishu

Toshimitsu Kareishu was born in Kyoto, Japan and raised in Toronto, Canada. The owner/operator of a new art shop, he now writes from Summerside, Prince Edward Island.




The trip from Detroit to Campobello Island was a short one

Or at least truncated

By the slumber induced by packing tape and plastic and Styrofoam

Suppressing me within a cardboard womb

To be revealed to Mrs. Roosevelt

As a perfect thing for mixing drinks

Although I assure you

I can also puree

But no such thing is required

For Haitian libations

Which Mrs. Roosevelt would have made

And then would not drink


It was 1958

And I returned with her to Hyde Park

Doing much the same thing

Or nothing at all


Between rituals for a dead president

And his widow

I would dream in the cupboard

Of becoming the president of a factory

That would process chicken patties

For sixty percent of North America


I curried the money of Mrs. Roosevelt

And some folks from Sunbeam

And created a new factory that turned chicken bones

And ammonium hydroxide

Into a lovely paste breaded by two hundred workers

Then consumed from Phoenix to Nantucket


They were gummed by toddlers and the elderly

One could see a cradle-to-the-grave partnership

Just a man and his chicken patty




I lost my love for life

I gambled away my earnings

On blackjack and poker

I even lost my prime stock portfolio

To a kid playing whack-a-mole

At a state fair

I retired to Campobello Island

And paddled around in a boat made from a painting

So much wood lathing to so much tarred canvas

A Cassatt-turned-coracle

With Jeremiad Rashbag

A yard sale Xylophone

We aimlessly floated on the water

Devoid of reason or purpose

Playing blackjack with an incomplete deck of cards

From the Seattle World’s Fair

Bookmark and Share

                                                                                                               June 23, 2012