Shinichiro Watanabe

This stray dog struts in two worlds,
scratching cowboy blues
with the grace of kabuki snazz.

His spurs dig deep, inking asteroids
in jet black, spiked in Valentine red
and a dash of Boogie Woogie Feng Shui.

His bold shades battle forged
in Hattori Hanzo steel, whispering
sunflower scented elegies.

In an art steeped in tradition,
this samurai slings his blades
on the other side.

Inside Mamet

the f-word
and its many derivatives
proffered
in one constant flowing rhetoric
is fun
to do

An Inkling of Kurosawa

Clouds rain furies

of kamikaze pilots.

A fateful ritual

for God & Country,

painted thick,

like Van Gogh's

boarish winds.

A weapon lost.

A warrior fallen.

A child kidnapped.

A king gone mad.

A mystery left unsolved.

Thunder explodes. Once. Twice.

Chattering children in playgrounds

sweep and crumble away.

Their shadows mark their graves.

Deciphering Nolan

Watch closely.

Mysteries unlock
behind smoke and mirrors
(and in the night),
cowled in dark recesses
of a mind lost
in infinite light.