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Saturday, December 25, 2010

Fast Day 186 Christmas December 25 2010 {Getting Ready To Go Out}

Getting Ready To Go Out on Christmas Eve

Reflect Christmas flowers,
fragrant mirror!
Embroider that head gold and silver
above her limpid eyes,
where boats of one bright lantern
drift sunsetwards…
checking nets and traps…
silently as thieves of water
tiptoe across the unbroken:
O, surface of reflecting water!


meditation of watching my wife prepare to go out xmas eve. Her mirror reflects the flowers of xmas and renders an embroidery of her head with precious gold and silver hair. Her eyes are deep eyes of the festal season, not the surface eyes of work and rushing...
we grab joy like water bugs skimming like thieves across the surface of the river!

Again, an attempt to emulate Chinese Lyric poetry: note how not the flowers but the mirror is fragrant; this is the sort of ambiguity which may occur when you just view characters in a very strictly limited array: mirror fragrant flowers Christmas  could be read either way, I think.  By forcing the adjective into a new context, it frees up the verse in translation.
Also we do not tiptoe across an unbroken surface of water; we tiptoe across the unbroken and then address the water, giving you an indication of where we are and what we are crossing.I can't blame the Chinese poets for this; it is my own conceit.

Sunday, December 19, 2010

Fast Day 185 December 18 2010 {Nothin' But Safety Net}

Nothin' But Safety Net

People do not bounce much,
like basketballs swish'd - nothing but safety net!
When people fall from the higher places
they lay upon the streets in agony,
a crumpled heap of bone and sinew,
and a spreading pool of redness,
praying the office of pain.
People are not balls.

People cannot be shut
like old volumes cased in leathery hides,
like books may be shut between two covers.
Still they haunt you with ghosts of loveliness
and attar of love until you do
that desperate bounce thing!
People are not books.

People cannot be foreclosed,
as if their eyes were vacant window casements.
Sarah Dawn’s dollhouse is not digitized,
measured and tracked unto a sheriff’s sale,
her unseen friends that live therein are not
corralled in boxcars of diaspora,
a network of despair!
People are not stone.

People cannot fly… yet!
They have forgotten the wind-like face of earth!
Why can’t Johnny fly?  the parents wail;
doddering about in sunless alleyways,
following threads left by blind teachers
oblivious of the heliotrope science!
Everyone has lost their wings!
People are not birds.


Saturday, December 11, 2010

Fast Day 184 December 11 2010 (Notting Hill Pubs}

Notting Hill Pubs

I wish I could send a letter,
I wish I could place a call,
sitting here alone at midnight
no luck at the Bait-And-Switch Bar,
singing karaoke love songs
and wishing on a star.

I can't recall the words,
can hardly read 'em, too;
bloody mary garlands
of celery and glamor screeching eyes!
singing karaoke disco tunes
and fill the blanks with sighs!

The Muses sing "last call"
for one more foaming beer;
stileto shoes and hips,
procreate the world new again
with the spirit toxic brew
and none will feel the pain.

Saturday, December 4, 2010

Fast Day 183 December 4 2010 {Alana's Brother}

Alana's Brother

Alana said that Robert is
a contrary child indeed!
My brother will not learn, she said
while she really wished to punch him;
he's not stupid but he's stubborn
and too much time is wasted
on texting all his friends, playing
video games and computer!
He is the Facebooking-est kid!
The child will not learn!

Her mother went to work that day
saying Alana, help your brother
with his work; he's got the lowest
grades in Heilmann Elementary!

Alana asked her grandmother
who said that's the school where your mama
went everyday with braided hair,
hair tied like cinnamon bundles!
Sweet Cassie like cassia spice!
She was a student, honey; she
shined! When she did double skip rope
she threw off scintillas of fire!
Just like you do, honey! You shine!
and just like your brother will, too.
Perhaps he is not challenged and
electronic gadgets tire him.
Oh, Gramma! said Alana.

The child will not learn! Alana
said. He'd rather talk to his friends.
He's not stupid, but I can not
teach him anything; he'd rather
play his X Box three-six-oh instead!
Can I get a new cell phone do
you think for my birthday coming up?

Honey, come and help with cookies,
and get your brother to help grind spice.
There was a gingerbread halo on
her head at the Christmas season,
and her brain buzzed with the festive
hymns of ginger, clove, and nutmeg.
Grandpa came to join the recipe,
and Aunt Susan soon stopped by, too.
Robert, fetch the molasses, please;
the kind says "New Orleans" - no other
kind will do, honey. You can't make
gingerbread men and women without
the exactly right ingredients!
A hive of buzzing bees, indulgent
of nectar goodies soon to come.

How many a sweet tooth is drawn
to the cookie sheet delights!
Aunts and uncles and cousins, too,
swarm with sugary intensity
grating ginger and the nutmeg,
grinding cinnamon brown, brown braids.
Get the Wyandotte soda, honey!
What's that, grandma? Won't baking
soda do? Get the lard or butter,
blend it all together with careful
whisks and strokes until your arms hurt!
Then take out the jingle-jangle
cookie cutters, boys and girls
to cut the rolled out carpet of
sweet ging'ry bread... then bake... and wait
and dress them with rainbow frosting,
dot their eyes and bow their smiles!

Roll out culture of the dough with
all the several spices orient;
cinnamon comes from coppiced wood
old stump and deep ancient roots
but young shoots every year to harvest...
Jump Gingerbread! Jump Robert!
Jump all you children from boredom's orphanage!


Alana - I chose this name in case she does not believe that this is my blog.

This is a story of cookies. It takes a lot of people to bake cookies sometimes.


Friday, December 3, 2010

Welcome Alexander and Anaudos

Welcome to Alexander and Anaudos. I noticed their pictures in the rogues' gallery to the right. I believe Alexander to be Russian and Anaudos to be Greek; both names are of Greek derivation, and their presence makes me think of Byzantium, the Euxine Sea, and the ancient history I learned so long ago; Professor Vukevich's class: Russian History.
We learned of the earliest origins of the Kievan state and the profound influence of the Greek culture upon the noble Slavic peoples. We were mightily impressed. We used to call the Professor "Vuke the Duke". It was not mocking; it reflected our awe of the hitherto unknown Slavic history and the unknown influence of the Greeks in the times after the fall of Rome. We had always been taught history of the West and Rome, ignoring the East and Constantinople as if they did not exist. We were filled with wonder at the new world! Just like Balboa standing on his peak in Darien! We stood at Kiev and were speechless at the riches of the Greek Empire and its influence on the Rus!

I saw a magazine with an article that dealt with how the Internet is re-wiring our brains. I find the statement that the Internet re-wires our brains to be a doubtful proposition, but Lord Almighty how it expands our souls!

When I see new friends, I feel a twinge of shame at the admittedly rough poetic sketches I force upon them. I feel insignificant and a bit depressed....
But then I get over it.