Renkichi's futurist poetry & manifestos were published in coterie journals between 1916 and 1922, when, poor and suffering from tuberulosis, he died at the age of 29, leaving behind his common-law wife and child.










—A. M. G. D’A.1


Drunken sturm

Furious wind

Firing storm




Lila roaring with the wind

My chest

The shrine




Flying bird dancing with the wind

The form in my own image



Stalwart man of azure!


Sparks dispersing with the wind

The aerial flower of war

Swirling pollen

Southern scent

Our eternal heat!



This fierce libido of wind!

This fierce libido of fire!

This fierce libido of scent!


This burning passion

Burning thought

For this burning stench

The earth will today

Become a flowering garden………


This burning passion

Burning thought

For this burning stench,

The farmer’s thin smoke

From the field to the field of white clouds………


This burning passion

Burning thought

For this burning stench,

The church bell’s reverberation

To the laughing eternal lily at the bottom of the valley………



I am the child of fire!

I am the child of wind!

A jester of passion!



I am the insatiable end of one’s life!

The lion in front of the stiff gate!


Strike, strike

And strike

Inside the burning fire

Atop the steel bricks!



This is the howling world,

Maddening world,

A test site for the hardened individuality!





To the end,

Inside the burning fire

Atop the steel bricks!


1Translator's note: “A.M.G.D’A.” is most likely Ad Maiorem Gloriam Dei Absconditi: to the greater glory of the hidden God.





An Impression of Hospital K


The stench of phenol with low pressure inside a temperature of T.F. 85°—90° the building made of chalk like rubber expanding and contracting the sun shivering white from a hundred windows is a sash of yellow ether that flows in〰〰〰〰〰〰the women shrugged with her neck her body lost the capacity to resist in innumerable folding while disappearing in the hospital room at ward 3 no. __ 


The wave of blood on a girl’s cheek a rose-colored creation—I sit at the window beside a friend fallen ill the giant moth sucking the wind created from the folding fan flutters white towards the sweet nectar of fruit SAPA—SAPA—SAPO—SSSSSSSSSSSSSS—the white moth folds its wings—neck neck neck neck—gathering neck leaden neck, envious eyes gathering line of sight, the girl sometimes breaks into smiles inside the innumerable light shone. (Nature seen inside the hospital)


Noon—one long canal innumerable geometric canal innumerable flock of swan, fluttering crying waving their tails—the nurse spins around a sleeper at the balcon to carry the wounded—gossip—glide—turn—PATAPATAPATAPATA—PATA—PA—TA—TATATAAAAAA…………Becoming the patient’s walking stick she waves the clinical thermometer on a side glance—the provisions truck passes, fully packed lunch, dull arc of wheel tracks, milk ice cream with fruit+lively kiosk+noises running through the esophagus+window face of window+struggling breath+ward C no. __ ward D no. __ward E no. __ visitor+doctor+storm of disinfectants=battle of life and death=the will to live!


Passing through the outdoors the train cars motorcycles wagons—noises send off sparks flooding hitting the bull’s eye exploding dispersing and fractures.






Ginza, Color, Light, Reverberation, Stench, Curiosity, Éphémère



Life born during the day, dying by night

Dancing dancing dancing

In pieces in pieces

In the show window

Of the metropolis

And in houses of ghost towns

In the accidental exterior light

Shining, shining

Drops of stars

Earthen blade

Of alpine flora

Comfortably within my senses

Bite in, bite in

The stench brushed by the side of the road

From the American cinema style hand

A fluid flame of a moment

                                      In darkness

Disappearing, disappearing

Whistle of a vagabond

Siren of a racing fire truck

On the artery of the underground

Applying pressure on the mouth of the iron pipe


Cascade of water cascade of gas

Cascade of a transparent amber poison

Reverberation of a great flood

Facing afar


            tant tant nombreuse curiosité……

            tant tant nombreuse curiosité……

            Go, go

            Above the paved road

            Inside the crowd

            On the elevated railway piercing through the roof

            On the spiral staircase of a department store

            At the circus

            At the run-down bar

            At the Russian coffee shop

            In front of the power plant at midnight

            Go, go

            Inside every conceivable clamor


Well, well

That person’s face is as cold as the night

Well, well

That person’s face is as bright as the electric light

Spring gust like wafer paper

Wraps the cute buds of plants

Of aphrodisiac and poison

Of profuse oxygéne

Of phosphore

For the mouth, for the mouth of everything


            Drink, drink

            The ether of a hundred colors

            The liquor of a hundred colors

            Drink, drink

            The reverberation of a hundred colors

            The stench of a hundred colors

                          On the lips of a hundred colors


Dancing, dancing

On the storm of the streets

A leaf of a tree

One leaf after another

Like old newspaper

Where will it go……

When the glassy skin clouds

I have no use for windows with curtains


To the bedroom

Until tomorrow—

Life born during the day, dying by night








Ugh how long are you going to cry you irritating rain drizzle… The hill back there is true darkness my home is true darkness I need at least 100 candlepower—my heart flies back again with a clouding thunder—infuriating triangular face diamond-shaped face warped face—shit-demons get out of my way!


What now this blind little imp’s stomach is growling again—because of you my body breaks into pieces—riveted, throwing out your chest   “yes I’m full”   it was only a moment ago you posed as a warlord—please don’t give me this happy-go-lucky nonsense while I’m going on multiple strikes and barely making ends meet.

                          Again the unrelenting crying



Goodness, the moon looks like it’s going to come out


Must be a toad how many minutes has this blue wind the cool Sir Romanticist being proud of his voice then charmed so many he gives his blunt-brunt refusal…  Don’t fall ill from being charmed—Pierrot—Lord—young women have many interests so grab that neck—the moon is out on Block 1 and the telegram flips back to a return delivery on Block 2 is the happy-go-lucky wife’s chitchat and the red festival lanterns nearby. 






Speck, Fishhook, Crest, Antenna, Hoof


To field to mountain, to indoor to city

Flourishing as they cross in front of me  


Scattering bomb-shell

Tanks, poison gas

Fluttering above armed soldiers 

A battle flag.


Look, all around

The specks shimmering in blaze

Passing verse,





All the hues clouding.




Tearing the powder smoke

Above the roof tiles

Flickering light signal

Stars of the city.


Listen to the sound of the gun,

Gears, belt

Roaring steamer

Shadows ringing fishhooks while running 

Women and their ornamental crests.


The ferocious beast

In the city fighting and wiggling in packs.


Anchored with noise the expanding


Incense spewing antennae,

Anchored with noise 

Kicking away


Giant steps.




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