Category Archives: Poetry

New Poem: Your Name Means Ensnaring (Or, Gone As You Are)

Your Name Means Ensnaring (Or, Gone As You Are)

For Rebecca Blumenfeld-Jones, who told me once that somebody might need to hear my writing – is that somebody ever you?


To the victor go the spoils,

and remaining can be victory

over the absence of another.

Your truth is a dissipated thing,

gone as you are. And we who remain

are left to guess, and worry, and wonder.

Are you truly gone from us,

and by choice? And in what sense?

Gone as you are, to places unknown —

Do you breathe there? (Do you still breathe?)

Do you stare at the night sky sometimes,

in wonderment? I do, and I wonder

after you. Gone as you are,

but your memory remains.

A vivid thing — you, reaching for

a certain ceiling fan switch. You,

the vision of which is indescribable.

Those eyes, a smile, the smattering

of freckles — a certain look about you.

How can one condense into words

what it is about you that makes us

light up, that made us jealous for

your attentions? You hated that,

attention. But your very absence

calls it to you, gone as you are.

If anyone could define you,

describe you, ascertain about you,

should it not be me? Was I

supposed to know you best?

(I can feel the wonder in others.)

But a neat label for you fails —

me and you. This writer cannot do it.

To suggest you here in ill-defined

phrases feels like love — but

would not love for you be silence?

Or would silence be your end?

Gone as you are, who can tell?

And if not me, then some other,

some other writing the history

of you that rings false to you

and me. I am not the victor here,

for how can a victor know loss?

But how can I let any other tell

your story for you?

There were three books,

I shall begin there. Mine,

Wuthering Heights and The Roof

at the Bottom of the World.

(See there? You’ve made me drop

an Oxford comma. What is love,

if not that?)

Which way would you go?

As though we’ve given you a map,

or a Choose-Your-Own-Adventure

novel. It’s a novel thing, a spoil

indeed, to presume so much power

over another’s choices. It was

Christmas Eve –but that’s not when

you left. Did you plan it, I wonder

constantly. Did you mean to

give me one last happy memory?

Family Christmas dinner and

trimming the tree. You dropped me

home, and drove off — it’s a maudlin tale,

like a child might tell of the night

daddy left. But it took you months

to leave, all unbeknownst to me —

and so how am I to tell the tale?

I called you while my grandfather

was dying, were you gone then?

You ran into someone accidentally,

gave her your number — did you never

mean to fall out of touch at all?

Have you freed yourself, are you

happy? Or dead, bound for the morgue

where we might at last see you again?

It haunts me. You haunt me, while I hope[,]

you live. Gone as you are, I may bade you

breathing. But false hope could be your

untimely end. And I hurry this poem

to its own conclusion, for, gone as you

are, there can be no end. But love,

and peace, and blessings, and all

the happiness that can be wished

friend to friend. You are a magnetic force,

gone as you are, no sense hiding

from that. You leave a hole,

but I leave a space — there will always

be a place, yours — so that you

might come back. Love and peace

and blessings and happiness,

wherever you are.


May 29th, 2014

Eureka Police Missing Persons Case # 3C13-6669

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

Belated Introductions

Hmm…The length of time between posts here may be proving why I write novels to say what I want to say.  If it takes me four years to write a relatively short novel, and another year to publish it, how long should it take me to write a blog post?

I suppose I’ve skipped a step, and should have begun with an introduction.  You are, well, you.  And I, as I hope you’ve gathered by visiting, am Sarah Toshiko Hasu.  Authoress of Megume and the Trees, publisher at Megami Press.  I’d actually never heard the term “authoress” until I read an article about why it was becoming “correct” to refer to all actors as “actors,” and never specify gender by calling someone an “actress,” much the way – according to the article – we never calls authors “authoresses.”  Naturally, I fell in love with authoress.  Bad feminist me.  But I don’t consider being referred to as female a slur, and I think the feminine phrasing of “authoress” doesn’t hold any diminishing capacity since it has never been widely used during our time.  I suppose if you call me an “authoress” in a really snotty, condescending manner – but you could accomplish the same effect using a gender-neutral term, so…If you for some reason hate women and condescend to the idea that women can write literature…You are very much in the wrong place.  Stay, and seek enlightenment.  Or, please find your own way out (Tip: type a different URL address above).

Other facets of my personage which may make appearances here: I am a Japanese-American, lesbian, yogini (Again with the gendered terms!  Translation: I live yoga.  [I meant to type “like” and typed “live” – I firmly believe those sorts of typos are revelatory.  I do try to live my yoga, so let’s leave it at that.]), dog mama to a small speckled hound named Daphne and a tri-colored corgi named Dylan, indie publisher, feminist, former (and sometimes still) music industry, vegetarian, smart aleck, have Buddhist and Shinto and just plain pagan tendencies, and I used to be a confessional poet.

I don’t know why I stopped writing poetry.  When trying to explain to a friend once how the poems had simply stopped coming as such, I trailed off and she very adeptly filled in, “because you’re done confessing.”  I suppose I am, at least in that manner, and for now.  But one simple element holds true, no matter what I’m writing: my work is emotionally honest.  The rest may be fiction, but the emotions are real.  Maybe that’s why I’m leaving some of my old poems up on this site.  You might notice some themes they share, which has everything to do with the circumstances in which I wrote them – more on that later.

It also seems a good moment to note that you do not have to share any of those above personality facets with me to be here or read my work.  I actually don’t know anyone else who shares all of those characteristics with me, and I know a great many people with whom I share none of them.

I was born in Rochester, NY and have lived in Avon, Ithaca, and Greece, NY; Charleston, IL; St. Paul, MN; Tempe, AZ; and now, finally, Nashville, TN.  I moved to Nashville when I was seventeen to study music business in college, and I most definitely figured out I was gay while working backstage at a country music award show.  The college I attended used to be most famous for its music and music business programs, now it’s most famous for firing its lesbian soccer coach (and that’s actually progress since I was there, because the students and faculty were able to stand up for the right thing).  I changed my college major to English when I got what I wanted out of the music industry and it turned out that what I really wanted was to write.  Unfortunately, realizing you’re a lesbian while interning and working in the Nashville music industry and then becoming a lesbian poet at a Southern Baptist school is a pretty lateral move.  Two things I did not know when I began college: 1) that I’m gay, 2) that the student policy prohibited “homosexual behavior.”

So that’s what I mean by common themes in my poetry…I was coming out in a place where I couldn’t come out in my own writing or I’d be expelled.  As terrible as that sounds, and as terrible as that was, now that I’m older, I’m gleeful about the fact that two of my poems appeared in the university’s literary journal – which was heavily censored, as the school considered the journal “promotional material.”  “In Praise of Wolves” – totally about being in love with a woman, thank you very much.  And totally used in promotional material for a school that wasn’t okay with their soccer coach coming out as a lesbian by having a baby with her partner.  And now my publishing company shares a zipcode with Music Row (some of which is very liberal and loving, contrary to its public image) and said university (ditto).  Because that is how YOU make it better.  Just surviving goes a very long way, even though I can personally attest to what very little comfort being told that offers before you find your way to your own life.

Kate Bornstein said it best: “Do whatever it takes to make your life more worth living, just don’t be mean.”

Personally, I feel you should read my novel.  Because that’s why I wrote it.

Love, peace, and soy nog (I’m rather addicted…),


Leave a comment

Filed under Introductions, Megami Press, Megume and the Trees, Poetry