An Earful of Hoichi: A Collaborative Ghost Story Renga Run Its Course

My thanks to: James Ciriaco, Corinna Parr, John Beck, Adrian Eve Revenaugh, and Ferosh for their brilliant contributions to this piece.

The Battle of Dan-no-ura by Yoshitoshi

Fallen samurai,
salt waves embrace the broken,
moon on haunted shore.

The biwa weeps on blind hands,
but no ears hear these chill winds.

Shimnoseki Straits
between Honshu and Kyushu,
The scene of battle

The Heike and the Genji
shed blood at Dan-no-ura.

Pale sand clawed away
by waves at war, scrawls its tale
on another shore.

There is no pen sharp enough;
My heart aches for paler ink.

wet and tousled hope
shore fire enticing moon,
light blue calm unfolds.

Dawn rolls out like a banner,
Heike drown and Genji sing.

Folded razor sharp,
fired, precision instruments
slice sand and leave glass.

Sea crabs exhibit the dead,
ancient war masks march askew.

Contorted driftwood
piled in careless drifts of flesh;
peace in agony.

Spirits gather round the tombs,
forgotten court, vanquished lord.

Silence, time, desire,
a hunger for songs long past,
shadow tales of spring.

To the man blessed with blindness,
shadows come to live in song.

Called by phantom lust
at midnight’s bell, spells are cast
to sate death’s yearning.

The blind are easily led
to play for ghosts of the dead.

A royal request,
irresistible force,
a lord's servant sent.

At night the graveyard trembles
brave souls relive their glory.

Demons hide from priests;
daylight hours reveal cold truths.
Steps must be taken.

The biwa is not a blade,
music can't sever phantoms.

Flesh must disappear,
fade beneath the Heart Sutra.
This line divides worlds.

But if they can't have music,
they'll tear at the poet's ears.

Kwaidan: screenshot taken from criterion dvd