Showing posts with label Melissa Allen. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Melissa Allen. Show all posts

Saturday, April 14, 2012

Russell Libby: Each Day



It's no secret that I'm a big fan of the work of Russell Libby, so it is always interesting to get one of his chapbooks in the mail. The most recent to come my way is Each Day (and I have to confess, I've had it awhile, but that just built up the suspense) and I thought I'd share a handful of poems from the collection with you today.  Here's a little ku I just love ...


School of herring
rippling
the ripples


When your poem has six words and one of them is repeated, you are probably committing an act of bravery, foolishness, or poetical magic - it seems to me obvious which one this is.

Russell is a man of the moment and there are many fine moments in this collection.  These moments are even more poignant and precise in light of the fact that the poet has confronted serious illness and held his ground.  The next poem, which concludes the collection, touches on this:


In the Night
  Oh, that not-quite-crack
  as a rib flexes,
  and maybe breaks,
  in the night.
  Do I get another X-ray
  that tells me
  what my body
  already knows,
  or just use each breath
  as a reminder of the beauty
  of the day?


This seems something of a rhetorical question coming at the conclusion of a volume which is a string of a beautiful moments beheld and passed on but it most certainly is not.   It is the poet confronting the world, and so the question must be asked again and again, revealing a deliberate, measured approach, the only sane way to proceed in a world of doubt and wonder.

These poems are contemplative, at times so quiet as seeming to lack insistence.  This, however, is a matter of tone and not message; what seems not insistent is, in fact, persistent. Reading the collection through a second time, a whole vista which I missed initially was manifest.  Though made up of so many individual parts, the collection is held together by the poet's persona, steady, observant, and in love, really, with all that he encounters.

Although I know it isn't true, I feel as if there are birds on every page and that gives me great joy.  The feeling might best be described as if birds were flying throughout Each Day, skipping from here, alighting there, moving about as it were within the book, of their own accord, a continual presence in a singularly beautiful world (and book).

I'll finish this post with the introductory poem, which perfectly describes the little volume itself, the experience of it for the poet and, as such, for the reader, too:


Early Morning
  Sun just over trees.
  My shadow, forty-three paces long,
     precedes me down the hill.
  Plenty of space to think
     between here and there.


So, I lied; here's one more, another excellent little haiku, for a little balance to this post:


Three dragonflies
resting
other end of hammock 


Each Day is available for $4 postpaid from: Russell Libby, Three Sisters Farm, 53 Weston Rd, Mount Vernon, ME 04352.  Treat yourself, straight from the author, the way it should be.


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With a little tip of the hat in two directions, the following Issa haiku reminds me of one of my favorite poetry blogs of all, Red Dragonfly, from that blog takes its name:




have you come
to save us haiku poets?
red dragonfly
     Issa
     translated by David G. Lanoue






best,
Don



Send a single haiku for the Wednesday Haiku feature. Here's how.

Go to the LitRock web site for a list of all 129 songs

Friday, August 12, 2011

Haiku North America Conference, Seattle 2011: a Few Thoughts

Artwork by Ruth Yarrow


Above you will see a fine drawing (plus conference badge) by the wonderful Ruth Yarrow which exemplifies in my mind the generous spirit of the participants at the 2011 Haiku North America Conference in Seattle.  Thanks, Ruth, for a fine likeness.

Being in Seattle for a week is the reason I've been keeping a low profile on the blog and elsewhere; I had done a few posts ahead, but was nowhere as together as my fellow haiku blogging panelists Melissa Allen, Gene Myers, and Fay Ayogi, at least two of whom were posting live from the conference (while I and my 10 thumbs were wrestling with a small HP notebook).


Photo by Johnny Baranski


And a little closer view of the panel on haiku blogging:


Photo by Sarah Myers


In addition to the haiku blogging panel, I participated on a panel called "Developing Haiku Book Manuscripts" with some serious heavyweights in small press haiku publishing: Jim Kacian, Ce Rosenow, and Charlie Trumbull.


Photo by Johnny Baranski

The perspective I added to both panels was the POV of a micropress publisher.  As a one person operation, everything, including blogging and manuscript development, is seen through the other end of the telescope.  I'm not sure how helpful that was for the audiences at both sessions but I can say I learned from my fellow panelists.

There was a nice balance between the practical and what might be termed the academic.  Even on the later end of things, Richard Gilbert in the conference's most scholarly presentation ("Social Consciousness and the Poet's Stance in 21st Century" - the 1st William J. Higginson Memorial Lecture) was so well grounded in the history and tenets of haiku, as well as the sensibility of the Jack Kerouac School of Disembodied Poetics at Naropa where he studied, that one never got lost in the morass of ephemera.   He was engaging, knowledgeable, and obviously an all round good guy.

There were so many excellent panels and presentations that there were the usual conference schedule conflicts (an embarrassment of goodness) and I wasn't able to attend some I would have liked to.  Highlights that I was able to catch included Jim Kacian on the history of the one-line haiku ("Monophilia"), Cor van den Heuvel's powerful reading from his new book, A Boy's Seasons: Haibun Memoirs,  Carlos "The King" Colon on concrete haiku and poetry, and Eve Luckring's phantasmagorical video renku (with a tip of the hat to Sergei Eisenstein and the avant garde).  Day 3 was packed with great presentations: the year's memorial reading for those who died by Marjorie Buettner was memorable, and Daivd Lanoue's "Frogs and Poets" on Issa was my favorite of the conference, balancing as it did whimsy and scholarship in just the right proportion. The final day also saw Paul Miller give a provocative talk on Gendai (modern) Haiku in the West and the delightful "Old Pond Haiku Comics" by Jessica Tremblay (whose weekly postings I will be following with great interest) was just the perfect way to cap things.

I was sorry to miss Charles Trumbull's "History of American Haiku" and Penny Harter's session on haibun, the later because of a conflict and the former because we had to be up at 3 am for the return flight.  Between the two panels I was on and the various sessions I attended, I also gave two brief readings (one open and one for poets with new haiku books) and helped judge a kukai contest among participants along with Carmen Sterba.

Lots to think about, lots to absorb, and lots to just plain enjoy.  In off time, I traipsed about Seattle with my mate and friends, hitting the bookstores, restaurants, museums and bars and having an overall great time.  I'd like to particularly thank Michael Dylan Welch, Tanya McDonald, and Tracy Koretsky for their kindness and organizational acumen, along with Susan Diridoni, Gene Myers, Melissa Allen and Cherie Hunter Day for variously pleasant conversations, lunch, and camaraderie.

Finally, for those of you who didn't get to delight in this particular piece of cheese (on Facebook), well, here you go:




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This week's poem, from the Lilliput archive comes from#169, July 2009, is more than a little bit of wonder.  Enjoy.




     All of This, and Being Too
Flowering now of now, splayed flat
by winds of specificity,

what comes forth in this blossomed
gust is not regret, not sorrow.

What comes forth when the battered
leaves of nakedness curl downward,

flowering now of now, is you,
is your steady, petalled comingness.
        Diane O'Leary









with one gust
it becomes the perfect
willow
Issa
translated by David G. Lanoue




best,
Don



Send a single haiku for the Wednesday Haiku feature.  Here's how.

Go to the LitRock web site for a list of all 113 songs


Friday, January 28, 2011

A Little Treasury of Haiku: Part 1



A Note: I began this post, thinking I would cover all I needed to and be done, but as I progressed it just got longer and longer.  As a result, I thought to spare you all the simultaneous misery and irony of a lengthy piece on such a brief book, so I've decided to split it in (at least) two.   Part II will, hopefully, be next week and if it goes on much longer, scream mercy and click away.

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Some time back, in the comments section to a post, we got to discussing the translator Peter Beilenson and the fine work he did for a number of publishers, in particular the Peter Pauper Press, which was almost singlehandedly responsible for introducing, at very modest prices, an entire generation of the uninitiated to haiku.   During that discussion, I promised I would take a look at the volume A Little Treasury of Haiku, and so that time has arrived.

Since it was a volume I didn't have and I'd seen in at the library and was impressed, I purchased a very nicely rebound, if somewhat foxed at the edges, used copy for a reasonable price and dug in.  My first pass through I marked, as is my custom, poems for a 2nd and 3rd review, in this case 75 of the over 440 translated.  The volume consists of a generous selection of poems by the four cornerstones of classic haiku, Issa, Bashō, Shiki, and Buson, as well as a nice cross-section of haiku by other classic haiku poets.


              One fallen flower
Returning to the branch? . . .  oh, no!
              A white butterfly
                       Moritake


I can never resist Moritake's little haiku, no matter who is the translator.  This is a fine version of a wonderful little ku.

      Hi!  My little hut
Is newly thatched I see . . .
     Blue morning-glories
                 Issa

I like the colloquial flavor of this rendition, capturing the playful poet's voice as I've often imagined it.  He thrusts us right in the moment with his exclamatory "Hi!," the reader experiencing the surprise along with the speaker at the same time.  Of course, I had to include it since this is where the blog gets its name - a nice coincidence certainly that the poem is very good.

     Twilight whippoorwill . . .
Whistle on, sweet deepener
     of dark loneliness
                     Bashō

The drawback of reading haiku in translation is obvious; we've often been told by classical scholars that we can never truly understand Japanese haiku.  We are too removed from the culture, from the subtly, from the language, to even come close to understanding.

However, the upside, it seems to me, is also obvious; if a great poet like Bashō wrote 2,000 some poems (and Issa wrote over 20,000) and 5 decent translators have renditions readily obtainable in English, there are 10,000 Bashō poems to read.  I'll often lay a number of different versions side by side and, as the blind man and the elephant, try to get a picture as I move round and round, catching an angle here and a glimpse there.

As long as I avoid provocation and those big feet, I start to get a bit of an idea, sight or no.

Which is my characteristically long way round saying I feel I've never read this whippoorwill poem before though I know I must have, at least 3 or 4 times, and I am extremely moved by it.   At this very moment (are you with me) it is my favorite Bashō poem.  It is totally immersed in the moment and ennui (or wabi sabi or whatever) and beauty and sadness, and did I say beauty, and it urges that heartbreaking whippoorwill sound on so as to continue its significant emotional impact, feeling lingering in the pure essence of its music.

Phah!  Words can't describe it - at least not mine.  But Mr. Beilenson has got it and Suzuki and the rest can, well, pound salt.

Whistle on, sweet deepener of dark loneliness!


      My good father raged
When I snapped the peony . . .
      Precious memory!
                Tairo


How even the memory of rage may be precious once a loved one is gone, especially when that loved one was right.

    Dewdrop, let me cleanse
In your brief sweet waters . . .
    These dark hands of life
                       Bashō

Another Bashō poem I don't remember.  This rendition must delve in  from a direction I can't recall - the word "dark" reappears here, as in the previous Bashō poem, and this poem, too, turns on that ominous word.  Of course, the darkness is also the dirt which the speaker seeks to remove with the fleeting dew, but the dual meaning is undeniable.


        Quite a hundred gourds
Sprouting from the fertile soil . . .
        Of a single vine
                    Chiyo-Ni


The essential oneness of all things is expertly captured by one of the finest woman haikuists of all-time.  The reader wonders: is this not the single vine that the world itself sprung from?


          Starting to call you
Come watch these butterflies . . .
         Oh! I'm all alone
                      Taigi


Whether a lonely widow or widower, or an ex-lover, or a military wife, or someone thinking of a friend far away, we have all come to experience this type of expansive loneliness.  What is captured here is the speaker's emotional state of mind, of which s/he was totally unaware until this very captured moment.

           For the emperor
Himself he will not lift his hat . . .
    A stiff-backed scarecrow
            Dansui

The humor here is to the point: we are all equal in the "eyes" of an inanimate object.  Classicists may not like the poet's approach (or the translation) in this ku, but us peasants are all waving our own hats in the breeze.

     Live in simple faith
Just as this trusting cherry
 Flowers, fades, and falls
            Issa

I'm not very sure of the use of trusting here, but this is one of my favorite Issa  poems and it speaks to the big picture of life - not just death, but all of it, in a simple 3 line piece.

And, so, this seems as lovely a place to pause until next week as is likely to come down the pike anytime soon.  Till next week and part II for Mr. Beilenson.


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Just a quick note: Melissa Allen, over at the always excellent "Across the Haikuverse,"  features a couple of poems from the current Lillie issues, as well as giving a nice plug to the new "Wednesday Haiku" feature here at the Hut.

Cheers, Melissa!


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This week's featured poem comes from Lilliput Review, #134 by British poet David Lindley.   Enjoy.




At long last, love see
the sun go down, so sure we
so unsure, watching.
David Lindley







blindly following
the setting sun...
a frog
Issa
translated by David G. Lanoue






best,
Don



Send a single haiku for the Wednesday Haiku feature.  Here's how.

Go to the LitRock web site for a list of all 87 songs

Hear 'em all at once on the LitRock Jukebox