on the death of chokichi kurosawa
a square away from me stands our white king my very presence hazardous when near perhaps youâd find your victory in a ring but no, no punches thrown can save you here
counting down protections from a checkmate: block or flee or strikeâi wouldnât mind it though cornered thereâs no distance for debate and no escape if you wanted to find it
and you, who always were too good for this donât strike, donât raise your hand, donât close your eyes your duty is to fallâyouâre not remiss but buy our survival with your demise
worth measured by a bullet in the back, nothing can justify a win by black.













