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| TABLE OF CONTENTS
XIX:1, February, 2004 |
LYNX A Journal for Linking Poets | ||||
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SYMBIOTIC GREEN ON
GREEN SORTA SORTER SUNDAY EVENING THE APPARITION GYRATED I & EYE PIERCED BY A GOLDEN DAY NO QUARTERS FOR CANDLES RANDOM MOVES
A POETS' CASSEROLE WHISPERING SOFTLY MORNING SONG MUSIC IN THE PARK probably 2 'real' renga sorta #6 probably 2 'real'
renga sorta #7 probably 2 'real'
renga sorta #8 probably 2
'real' renga sorta #9 probably 2 'real'
renga sorta #10 BREASTS
OF SNOW PURE
PINK PART I: SEEDLESS WATERMELON PART
II THE OTHER SIDE OF PINK: A SHOT IN THE DARK THE RAIN CEASES
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GREEN ON GREEN Sprite, Eiko Yachimoto, Karina Klesko, Kirsty Karkow, Michael Baribaeu led by John Carley green on green two anglers climb wading through the brush a fawn stops to eavesdrop the day goes on forever quietly she lays a stone at the crossroads low mist and the skirl of pipes behind steamed up panes light laughter as love yields crushing grapes with my fiancé fireworks burst with sulfur and caramel corn science classes after lunch imagine a test for arming guillotines a silent chill this dark night Shawaal gold through the lace of bare branches Anne Morrow Lindbergh in profile the delving raccoon finds crayfish under rocks you smile at my embarrassment proudly a knight flaunts her favour in the jousts roundtable votes tallied baby fingers peeking from a spring blanket
all the way down a long lost lane campions and buttercups share the same field
SORTA SORTER mantric mode in toned, tonant tonic thundered great all heighty Move! 'tis tender shoved a god into larder's turmoiled whine, greet Indra drunk of the lords, spark Dope, neither white nor east of when glees a gale of force, to name a few, but clouds of other silver silver hovers dove loud spur you a same dew snorts, of yeast nor light ether cloak, dark swords the clove sunk tinder's meat, grime parboiled, harder lean-to pod's a glove ender, hiss mood! mighty stalled mate, plundered colonic lament cloned, in lode canker, shivered liver's sorter
SUNDAY EVENING aiming the fly spray at the curtain
THE APPARITION GYRATED I (Night signals it is dressed out in software, a place where the guest may enter a horse and see through ears) night night
horrorscopish house of call is all sled a movement deathdealing allied devisions
earth of a potter's squeeze I cain but are you able amicably nod I helped him to in my princeps edition which is all so much to the cut are mutuearly polarized the incompatablility of my delusional acting as ambivalent to the fixation of his pivotism
bringing allowing
allfines of greengold
ring <> oxed crowmagnon aunt Cesters smells the bat of new intelligence They demolished the peace, now they reinvent war II (Keying by dreaming the words that insert tools) olivegreen of onslought and the homespound over the hearth hand me the feathered slimmer off the brim your hunter's hat really at, this Anamite Apar of astrocity and private privysuckatary chorus of anscissors accompanies the grilling of insisters the hoisted in red and the lowered in black townails as if the genre of blond asks for bleeps in bloomers semperexcommunicambiambisumers a table on which cloth is coming closer the goat that gafr ate the sounders bible tales by dervish sung by diewhitch Aure! Cloudy father! Unsure. Nongood! quicksand in no time of her thinking mearbound to the marsh of a ladsmaul in half a sylb the first one making her his absence less comfortable give back those stolen kisses restore those allkotten gloves what age please would it be, let's say, green thumbed the allriddle of it that is alruddy with us.
III (Parallel speaking to a wall so that a door intermittently may open) a stage to set by ritual roote for the grimm appendix it by the hour of the scholar there you'll fix your eyes darklet on the autocart of the bringfast shun away from the non-shivering maiden's pulchritude never slip your silver key through your gate of golden age discetterized non-beings for the discernment of the distinguished never hate mer pork which is bad for your knife of a good Friday you highbunized your letter and I-i licked it and it was the lang in the shirt in the green of the wood I bet by the champain of the bestcellar, by the pumper of the nickels' we are once amore as babies awondering in a world made fresh
IV (The science of liquid absence, that capacity. Here it is slightly offered off-key deliberately so the reader feels a desire to correct it. At this moment you get in touch with your own netted system) - O dear no! Instead the tragis jester jobbed himself wheywingingly sick of life on some sort of rhubarbarous maundarin yellagreen funkleblue windigut diodying applejack Sqeezed from sour grapefruice and, to hear him twixed his sedimental cupslips when he had gulfed down mmmuch to mmmany gourds - Enoughness of spilled smell running in octaves, a shake-by-chaque to the willcomers, Jaques Derrida's impossible possiblility, a whipe-on-the-wips empire that unveils jealousy for the hidden and siege where the objected lingers, like in front of motel / module Awe, for exfans a peace joint, Imports & Outports - The warped flooring of the liar and soundcondactingwalls thereof, to say nothing of the uprights and imposts, where persianlyteratured woth burst loveletters, telltale stories, stickyback snaps, doubtful eggshells, couchers, flints, borers, puffers, amygdaloid almonds, rindless raisins, alphybettyformed verbage, vivlical viasses, ompitrt dictas, ahem and ahas, imeffible tries at speech unsyllabled you own mes, eyoldhyms - Hell us, lull us, James-of-the-jams' counterfighting portrats; give it the digits, the digest of browsers, the chat room, the voice-mail of love- twisters - Come smooth of my slate to the beat of my blosh! With all these gelded eves jilting about and thrills and ills of laylock blossoms three's so much more plants than chants for cecillis that I was thinking fairly killing times of putting an end to myself and my malody, when I remembered all your pupilteacher's erringneness in perfection class. You sh'undn't write you can't if you w'udn't pass for undevelopment - Awake-cry to avoke-pain only the bones of fish left in my lap - Yes, if I weren't a jones in myself I would elect myself to be his dolphin in the wildsbillow because he's such a barefooted rubber with my supersocks pulled over his face which I publickedin my bestback gardenfor the laetification of siderodromities and to the iron of the stars. You will say it is most unenglish and I shall hope to heat that you will not be wrong about it. But I further feeling a bit husky in my truth - Listen , when the charm of a Sheikh meets the vaingloriously veiled, say in a van velvetly sapphonized by the och&ochs of a fullmoon trip at Ba'qubah one wonders why she isn't calling mine eleven - Oh, on the third dead beat, oh! To cluse her eyes and allopen her oath and see of what spice I may send her. How? Cease thee, cantatrickee! I fain would be solo. Arouse thee, myvalour, and save for e'er my true Bdur! - And anticks: holy blowaparts, weapons of any mass, kigo by the pond, kilo of motherwit, a preowned mary-go-drowned, an odorless devotional object, preoccupied air, silent discs, state laws and bypasses, an almost new ambush, miss used cell phones, Mr. Cellew Lloyd (a digital graph), 'loss-free flow of current', where a pair of electrons that gave up their electrostatic resistance pass without frictional loss - a crystal lattice, a shily spoken no as a matter phor yes , the mold of a once gained objective petrified - Paud the roosky, weren't they all of them each in his different way of saying calling on the one the same time - But look at our manager disappealing under the womanager! Guinness in office? - Where you truss be circumspicious and lock before you leak, dears never christen medlard apples till a swithin is in sight - You close your lips, thinking - I see a design for that closing.
V (It seems that the strength of thinking depends upon a change of perspectives) there is a split
the pink of punk that lifted the leaves
ashe and whitehead
and the lines
I & EYE I saw seething drink master
PIERCED BY A GOLDEN DAY myself a firefly here and there poplar leaves refocused under the overpass lucid memories
NO QUARTERS FOR CANDLES old rain and fog on a float trip the storm beyond the yellow leaves a hidden thought running to the window new snow inside the church masked in feathers, a small model
RANDOM MOVES booksales table - chasing his son planted in the grass stacked beneath to the beat all evening suddenly girl in wheelchair - body-builder from centre stage evening's end
A POETS' CASSEROLE too rare we exclaim searching for a casserole dish
WHISPERING SOFTLY children skip change of wind the deep rumble curled up by the fire lightning flares time and again
MORNING SONG tui wisteria bathing at night play me
MUSIC IN THE PARK polka accordions chinese at six non-traditional didgeridoo
probably 2 'real' renga sorta #6 hot hot hot the cook suggests the waitress 'take a chill-pill' a lily a day keeps the doctor away & hummers around two months between blood tests time to answer 'fine' to all inquiries the sky turns blue or so it seems traffic at a standstill US Navy Angels back again with their roar take a wrong turn in war become an american hero
careful dubya the 'log' in your eye grows with every internal wink repeated proposition lost in cyberspace rain on more rain blighted tomatoes fried green like the movie a blower creates a racket but not a leaf in sight black-and-white warblers & chickadees a wren not to be ignored to the geezer: take your meds; don't take up bungee jumping scare alert for ferry boats the latest government reelection tactic Saddam on the tape? 'glorious resistance' urged bail hearing for 'missing girl' hoax suspect & her other personas* psychologist's couch the multiple sides to Sybil so much to know and more likely not to know the humidity to feel contrail smoke fills the air with hearts
hand-holding on streets and lawns crowds playing hooky estranged haiku the dying eyes of a baby snapper snacks for kids can be healthy label tells the story of trans fats dogwood berries where they once held on names inspired by Nature two granddaughters Wren and Fern view on the sanctity of marriage with a straight face he'd like wife one strong and healthy wife two rich wife three fun the power goes out while i'm out of power hmm...something's troubling my scale my weight at zero pounds dragonfly bends a reed and leaves fifteen minutes times seven guests removing weeds works for me in the kitchen sink things
thunder followed by thunder even the moss covered in moss old friends' friendly card game the usual insults truck trouble bridge trouble most of the water troubles fixed with nothing to cry about tears in my ears ahead of themselves withered blossoms empty the fallen stalks lots of attitude lots of gratitude Footnotes July 30-Aug 4, 2003
probably 2 'real' renga sorta #7 deep within our humidity squawking crows from yesterday peeling off in squadrons to follow the Blue Angels even though it's always whole a quarter moon full of rock circle motif patterned with a slice of potato scraps the ground can't eat go to the neighbor's dog curly surprise visit the car holds parents, kids, retrievers
sprinklers turn slowly watering the slowly-turning-green lawn on the home front a raggedy edge fluted petunia plus peach and pink begonias color the sundeck thunder on the clothes already soaked with it equally noisy hydroplanes piston and turbine engines compared overnight a lightning bug moved in all windows open a sweet-smelling breeze tickles my nose a wall with a right-wing spin improper touching* of married male by the gay clergyman will the terminator** say my wife won't let me run almost time again for the Repulsicans and Demonocrats four-legged mascots of the two-legged masks
tow truck for an old toyota that's literally put on the brakes excited over his BMW and then bird poop the egg came first but try telling that to the sea-less questioner chicken will do but I crave spaghetti hashed and rehashed for ratings when a woman's no means no sweet lovin' a search for romantic comedies morning haze some of it left over from the last thing i remember removing screens for a mere half hour of rain dr scholl's black shoes inches from a clean patch of warmth jackets over shoulders and long pants mostly ready for whatever except winter & bits of summer & fall where has the year gone? memorial designs
just one last trip to the cemetery for the stone's unveiling milkweeds without monarchs without blossoms second anniversary of 9-11 Americans still stalked daily along with the woods the sawmill in flames a late supper grimy firefighters take over Jacks' restaurant cicadas close down the day on themselves Footnotes Aug 4-7, 2003
probably 2 'real' renga sorta #8 a program needed to learn whom to hate 'friend' Gadhafi our weapons of mass destruction are where perhaps hidden in a spider hole like Saddam Hussein a third term the 'supremes' could help off to buy a couple of lamps the Dow over ten thou unable to tell whether the day really longer
a field of snow if the field weren't covered by snow the ie's one letter separates 'fiend' and 'friend' orange alert a billion a week weak from a daylily thought mental debate: research the web or watch TV from the governor years late a nice pardon for lenny bruce the courtly gentleman's politeness and gentle ways another generation blyth-reading poets blythed in the dark winter drizzle headlights would be good here gravity thaws & flows in the old pipe toward the old kitchen request from one charity for the third time this year grouped separately on paper as if to resolve the iris garden earthquake in Iran natural disasters tragic enough
25% of French Jews say they would feel safer in Israel still in the woods tho not deep enough to be out downy woodpecker crouches on a slick branch; rain gusts a bit of warmth a mind defensive from yesterday all spaces blank for unknown happenings new calendar will that chain ever get smoked incurable curiosity wet footprints from shower to phone foreign to me i turn up the sound frantic New Year's Eve celebration scenes fudge preferred green grass reappears not on the thermometer ice warning this morning hospital chaplain makes his rounds more letters to michael moore from disgusted soldiers
a seventh afternoon-moon brightens dark limbs & a pale blue maid's note: a pleasure to clean your lovely home inside the shell of a turtle we don't seem to get cabin fever the list of visitors grows sweatshirts around the abandoned stove in no hurry love is an action word Dec 21-31, 2003
probably 2 'real' renga sorta #9 rubble cleared from another country together we've fallen in snowplows in action more snow on the way movies movies full of language one day might be helpful again in the principal's office for talking crowded out by everything but blue vegetation of a quilt museum goal: to reopen featuring regional artists
stacks of stored art creating new paintings for the fun of it at arm's length whatever it takes to make spring spokeswoman for a cosmetics firm after her facelift since dubya the world's better off says dubya reminder: AOL staff will never ask for your password fashion statement the secret life of furry deaths police remove the 'partying' couple from the men's room thanks for canadian tv the news even-handedish Pasadena Parade of Roses tourist cameras slung and ready the trend warm except in the nearest pine aquarium fish among the corals seahorse nods its head dream-like some of the past tense
when stuff goes wrong up north they say it's gone south ambulance and its sound disappearing the notebook turned out to have too much writing smeared washed ashore with the rain and tide shriveled jellyfish between the hills things snuggled in the deep mud and sun petrified rock for his treasure trove africa with its riches where right-wings could next dub evil recurring image of flies on a starving child religious contraceptives the full value of women banned prairie burnoff fragile-looking columbine’s deep roots jeez just the thought of a shoot sends a shiver up my spine good morning! hospital confusion I answer the TV
a man whispers: Is your husband home? I hand hubby the phone swept away from the brown leaves left storm system our family emergency plan tried and flunked clothes on the line to fend for themselves golden-green rice fields workers and scarecrow wearing cone hats i edited myself but not the wren flown west Jan 1-3, 2004
probably 2 'real' renga sorta #10 three miles of trail in the woodland garden each plant labeled beyond the mainstream almost anything drivers warned of icy-road conditions can't seem to get a grip sunny tenncare ride like forever and a day a Cézanne still life in the art museum hunger pangs copy your fingerprints to ashcroft before asked
sharp stuff by president al sharpton & a tickle to the seriousness IceCreamKiddos wait low-season fares to Tucson a warm snap yet a can't-do-nothing-about-it-anyway attitude time to break into a bag of peppermint chews a bit heavy thin blankets brought in just before the rains no need to make the bed if wrapped in the quilt even after several hours of darkness the porch light on too early three hundred accidents in an I-5 corridor again & again the readers of how old basho did it in translation street mime white gloves hold the crowd woody allen as sperm a fear to go where other sperm have gone cemetery walk reunion with my grandparents
shriveled jellyfish the tiny transparent disks once so alive a lull in the creative juices tho not forgotten Bangkok tour guide exercises my brain: cón tin ue up the stree unopened mail if there's a reply expected kukai contest poses the question: was the kigo used seasonally if you wait on the japanese no butterfly till summer home from vacation a spider tags along to the beauty shop pointed partly toward spring the old truck bitter cold popcorn and pizza taking turns in the microwave a full moon but just a saying of course grabbed & tossed by an environmentalist fisherman’s treasure did you notice mr cheney butte a disaster dump
early peek at a shadow not the smart groundhog just me Sioux painting of sacred circles path of sand flow immigration debate send everyone somewhere pre-columbus question asked before I can answer he falls asleep at wit's end maybe even what's left of the pampas grass sanctuary flowers on the altar periwinkle-blue Jan 4-7, 2004
BREASTS OF SNOW Translated by Jane Reichhold and Hatsue Kawamura With her three young children Fumiko was considered a burden to her family. She was stigmatized in her community because at that time a couple was expected to stay together to raise their children no matter how many problems there were in the marriage. Because Hiroshi had married so soon after their divorce, and because he now only had the income of a common laborer due to his drinking, and since there was no system of child support in the society, Fumiko was completely dependent upon her family financially. So she went to work in her father's store, but when she worked outside the home to earn money, she had to depend on her family had to provide the care for the children. Still she went to work while trying to be mother to her children as best she could. This series of poems deals with her feelings of being a single mother at a time, the early 1950s, when this situation in Japan was very novel. haha wo jiku ni children run around This poem has been carved on a stone monument and placed in the center of a wide, hilly park near her home in Obihiro. When one stands here in spring, surrounded by the forests Hokkaidoo is famous for, Fumiko’s poem relives itself for each reader of the lines on the stone. Her poem makes a connection between the sweat-smell of children and leaves newly unfurled.
At the time of the divorce, the first son, Takashi was eight years old and Yukiko, the daughter was five. In dividing up the family, it was decided that the younger son, who was then three, should be sent to live in the home of her ex-husband's father and step-mother in Sapporo. It was thought that the older children were too attached to the mother to leave her so they picked her youngest boy as theirs. kanashimi no ripening The paternal parents wanted to have a son who could inherit the family goods and lands so they took away her youngest boy. In those days the wealth of the family had to pass to a son and therefore they wanted one of the sons to be raised in their family.
Even on a sunny day, with her children playing around her as she plants bulbs in the garden, Fumiko is aware of a kind of sadness that comes from this combination of developing children and bulbs before they flower. Though, like any mother she wishes that the sun would always shine on her children so that they will grow and bloom, yet the vulnerability of children and bulbs entering the dark earth overshadow her hope for their happiness. hi ni asobu playing in the sun Bulbs are metaphor of her growing children. We plant bulbs with the hope of flowers and we have children with the desire that they will have a better life. haru no medaka minnows in spring Not all of Fumiko's poems about her children were dark. One feels she is truly trying to keep an upbeat outlook on their lives as she writes such a tanka. Yet, there is a certain sadness in her valiant effort to be positive, to have hope and to try to see her children in the joy that even the smallest thing in spring brings her.
Though one does not usually associate sheep with Japan, the northern climate of Hokkaido is temperate enough to raise large flocks. The time of sheep shearing passed in waves around the rural town of Obihiro. For this the sheep are penned up in a corral with a single opening. One by one the sheep are released, grabbed, flipped over on their backs into a helpless situation. While being forcibly held down, they often bleat and are very frightened as the sharp steel scissors move across their exposed translucent skin. When the shearer is done and lets go of the sheep it is often momentarily confused about what has happened and unsure about where to go. This mental state matches the physical picture as the sheep looks naked, strange and cold without its fleece. senmoo sareshi wool sheared Since her divorce, her loneliness is increasing and she imagines her self as a sheep sheared of its wool. She sees the sheep coming down from the shearing platform and imagines that they enter the low place of her loneliness. What makes this tanka special is the fact that Fumiko makes her emotional state, loneliness, a place like that part of the meadow where the shorn sheep gather.
mizu no naka ni in the water The idea of being a plant with no roots that is forced to be swished here and there by the action of the water is an old one in the tanka of Japanese women. However, Nakajoo adds a strong element to her tanka, a white stalk (which could be seen as a symbol of maleness) and indicates her basic inner strength. She must have identified strongly with this motif as she titled the whole collection from this tanka.
Like most persons, Nakajoo recognizes her need to have a mate, but she sees how her previous desires led her into a life with many sorrows, in addition to the complications and sadness surrounding the four children she has borne. Therefore she has become afraid of that which she most wants and its power to only add to her unhappiness. hana no ka wa the scent of flowers Because flowers are the mating invitations of plants, in her poem she lets flowers represent her needs. Her message is that she is strong enough, since her harsh lessons, to not try to fulfill her deepest desires.
PURE PINK PART I: SEEDLESS WATERMELON
a breakfast bagel with cream cheese and lox /bk the small kitten's nose nuzzles the mom's pink nipples /dp his smile so nice if it weren't for all those gums/ ml half the fun was spitting them seedless watermelon /naia pink velveteen tales of boys in bow ties /kk her party dress a match for the bubble-gum in her hair /ml strawberry Jell-O she flings a spoonful at her sister /ct chasing leaves the roses in a little girl's cheeks/sw clown grins our lips after raspberry ice /ek first snowflakes on our tongues /sw prayer time her garnet heart picks up the moonlight /cr
PART II THE OTHER SIDE OF PINK: A SHOT IN THE DARK early morning mist pink sun sparks into flames /dp shades of barbara cartland the bride's mother /sw our vows in the passion lipstick I bought /mb a silky lingerie his cheeks flushed /b'oki the subtle hue of a ruby reflected in her face/ kr rose colored frames she leaves her glasses on the night stand /ct peter sellers reruns clouseau falls in all the same places /ct a shot in the dark at the new club moulin rouge/kk exposed skin raw from the wind smokers hide in a doorway /abs steppin' out from her fuchsia truck, he admires her hitch /db around his neck a faded mauve tie leftovers from the '70's /kk "I don't remember growing older......sunrise, sunset "* /bk
*Fiddler On The Roof Soundtrack Lyrics Sunrise, Sunset (Bock, Harnick)
the rain ceases tipped into the sun distant cloud peaks high up in roadside trees the cat and I sit the whoo-hoo-hoo of a great grey owl after her death snowflakes on his mitts his costly pearls - he reads and rereads his letters of old with the pinhole camera August full moon - dawn in the field first snowstorm gazing at the clear-cut in the orchard for no reason except the sun one by one as he mends his divots reading a few lines "My kingdom for a Trojan horse? on the dung heap from his canoe fourth time at dusk we slow-dance on the porch the dimness over his birthmark the smell of smoke beneath the blaze of sumac open cabin door - in time to Elvis blue suede shoes - main street trees along with rain scent - | ||||
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Poems and comments Copyright © Designated Authors
2004. Page Copyright© Jane Reichhold 2004. I would like to know more about Renga. |
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