*The first two lines of the last stanza are quotes from the book, pages 117 and 106, respectively.
The book that fed this poem, Fudoki, by Kij Johnson, was probably the best thing I read in 2012. If nothing else, the book was by far my favorite. It gave me something feral; wanderlust; death–and I’m shy of death in a strange way: I fear it (so much to destroy, and eat, so little time) and I don’t (tangent-cycles; curiosity; my gut-heart flailing for the unknown). I can’t remember where I first heard of the book, but it was this review (Kij Johnson’s FUDOKI doesn’t read like weeabo fanfic!) that reminded me of its existence and led me to read it.
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