Tsukioka Yoshitoshi - from 100 Aspects of the Moon
I've corresponded with, and published the work of, Patrick Sweeney for many years, going all the way back to issue #28 of Lilliput Review, which came out in February 1992. He is one of the poets I admire most working in the short form today, specifically haiku.
We went back and forth many months in the selection of the poems that follow. Serendipity entered into that selection: some unintended negligence on the part of the editor and an understandably natural reluctance on the part of the poet.
It seems to me that the balance of all these factors makes for a very fine set of poems, indeed. I'm going to abstain from my usual commentary and let the works speak for themselves, except to say, thank you, Patrick, very much.
My ecclesia
blue pine shadow
fused to snow
Infinite kalpas
of bone and flesh alleles
the dew drenched clover
Scent of burning leaves
the four chambers
of my heart
Half her face scorched
the Nagasaki Virgin
only stone
Sweet vernal grasses
what it has taken
to kneel
Shadows of mimosa
the Himalayan blue
probabilities of ×
Smithy of beaten stars
in the amalgams
of his haw-haw
House mosquito
blood-kin
to my only son
Lime tree
in the field
of one shoe
Green light on new snow
the short wavelength
of the divine
"Prufrock" also provided a line for this previous Sunday Service song. There are lots more in allusions to Eliot in popular music and, no doubt, they will provide future songs for the Sunday Service. For the moment, how's about we settle in and listen to the poet take a turn himself:
If you'd like your Eliot ready with animation rather than stagnant pictures, here you are:
Perhaps your version would have shoeboxes for hats ... I know mine does. Shoeboxes and mighty plosives and a, um, broader interpretation.
This is wonderfully odd song, recently suggested by a reader; somehow, I would love to hear someone arrange differently. I know this is a bit of a sacrilege; after all it is Billy Bragg and Wilco - jeez, whaddya want already? Of course, since this comes from the album Mermaid Avenue, which is made up of previously unreleased Woody Guthrie lyrics, it's not likely that anybody else will be rushing to cover (re-cover?) this anytime soon. Still and all, fine work all around and many thanks for the suggestion.
I share a birthday with Woody Guthrie: the 14th of July, Bastille Day, and that has always made me happy. So has Woody. First, Bob's classic tribute to Woody (no mistakes in that pickin' on this take) and then a real beaut by the man himself.
"Song to Woody" Bob Dylan
"Jesus Christ" by Woody Guthrie
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This week's featured poem comes from Lilliput Review, #78, March 1996. It's one ambivalent little beauty by one of my favorite haiku poets, Patrick Sweeney (who has promised to leave a little packet for me under the bridge by the Mon - no mean feat, internationally speaking). The Deva King of Issa's little number may be seen portrayed, sans wasps' nest, at the head of this post. Enjoy.
As noted on today's Writer's Almanac, it is the poet Gary Snyder's birthday (in addition, don't miss Patrick Phillips's sad and beautiful poem "Matinee" on today's WA posting). Recent winner of the 2008 Ruth Lilly Poetry Prize for lifetime achievement, Snyder, along with poet, novelist and activist Wendell Berry, is one of our finest living writers; both celebrate and advocate for the earth from which we come and to which we return. As Alan Watts used to say, we are not born "into" the world, we are born "out" of it.
Rus Bowden's Poetic Ticker pointed me to the following Gary Snyder video on YouTube. I'm linking directly to part 1 for convenience. Click here for parts 2 through 4.
As part of the reorganization of the sidebar (look right) on this site, I've put together a group of links to the work of Issa, patron of all things small. Lots of interest may be found there.
There are two other notes before getting to this week's selection from the Lilliput archive. The Washington Post recently had a posting on their "Short Stack" blog entitled "Five Poets With Staying Power." There are at least two on the list I agree with. The comments that follow the posting are even more interesting than the choices. Any thoughts on your 5 poets with staying power (I'll take Whitman, Dickinson, Sexton, Shakespeare, and cummings - Frost would be 6th)? And, for those who might have missed it here, my review of Mary Oliver's new book, "Red Bird," has been posted at the library blog "Eleventh Stack."
This week's issue of Lilliput is #93, from December 1997. Here are three tiny highlights:
Before the wake ... the eldest daughter helps with her mother's make-up.
Patrick Sweeney
at the zoo not a single human face
George Ralph
ancient headstones the names and numbers worn to mutters
Another Contributor's Notes "I learned at the Iowa Writers' Workshop that if you don't jiggle the toilet's knob two or three times, it won't ever stop flushing."
Welcome Elvis Costello, that most literate rockers of the punk movement, to his first appearance on the Sunday Service with "Everyday I Write the Book," a song I initially hated but, via an insistent hook and a couple of intervening decades, have grown to love. Certainly, it's place on the Litrock list is well-deserved.
Here's EC and his mates, showing how to write and perform pop music with a lit flavor, complete with cheesy BBC-4 captions:
As most of you know, I spend more time giving away free poetry than shilling what I have for sale, but if you are interested in this chapbook, which contains 53 haiku, by the likes of Ed Baker, Roberta Beary, Ruth Holzer, Ed Markowski, Gary Hotham, John Stevenson, Patrick Sweeney and more, at the incredibly low price of $3.00 (postpaid), just click on the Paypal button at the top of the page and I'll wend it your way. Alternately, a check via snail mail also works just fine.
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Check out Red Dragonfly, Melissa Allen's fine haiku blog - celebrating her 400th post, she invited her readers to provide the content in the form of their own haiku. 34 interesting pages of Sribd work, with one humble two liner by yours truly, and lots of other work very much worth reading.
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This week, two poems are featured from Lilliput Review #115. They both dazzle in a way you won't need your reading glasses for. Enjoy.
Myriad of Heavens, #43
A word says what it can
In the way that an inch
Says it's on a path
to the sun.
Tim Scannell
on the Conan Doyle shelf
my lost reading glasses
wiped clean
LeRoy Gorman
on the river back home too
no doubt...
moon gazing
Now that the contributor copies are in the mail, the 2nd Annual Bashō Haiku Challenge Chapbook is ready for purchase. 54 poems by 53 poets, it is 18 pages in length and standard digest, 5.5 x 8.5", up from the previous year's mini 4.25 x 5.5." It may be purchased for $3.00 postpaid ($4.00 overseas, ditto) via PayPal on the sidebar to the right or check or money order (or carefully sequestered cash). Payment should be made out to "Don Wentworth." Address: Lilliput Review, Don Wentworth, Editor, 282 Main Street, Pittsburgh, PA 15201.
Poets included:
William Appel, Jacek Margolak, Eduard Tara, Peter Newton, Terry Ann Carter, Dubravko Korbus, Andrea Grillo, Floyd Cheung (pg. 10), Paul Truesdell, Barbara A. Taylor, Ed Baker, Tom Drescher, Roberta Beary, Lisa Espenmiller, J. Zimmerman, Marija Pogorilic, Gary LeBel, Bart Solarczyk (2), Ann Schwader, Antonella Filippi, Bozena Zernac, Bob Carlton, William Cullen, Cherie Hunter Day, Darrell Lindsey, Deborah P. Kolodji, Ruth Holzer, D. V. Rozic, Ed Markowski, Gail Priest, Gerry Grubbs, Gary Schwartz, Gary Hotham, K. Ramesh, Karen Cesar, Keith A. Simmonds, Larry Barak, Marilyn Hazelton, Stjepan Rozic, Tanya Dikova, Thomas Martin, Tony Burfield, Victor P. Gendrano, Alan S. Bridges, Guy Simser, John Stevenson, Patrick Sweeney, Geoffrey A. Landis, John Frazier, Michael Stephenson, Scott Metz, and the Honorable Matsuo Bashō.
For a taste, the winning poem and 5 runners-up may be found here.
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a farting contest
under the moonflower trellis...
cool air
As part of the celebration known as National Poetry Month, I think it's time to let the poems speak for themselves. So here are a few of my favorite poets, in no particular order. Reading a poem or two by each of them should help combat the persistent rumor that poetry is dead. Or will it? Of course, not many people know who Bruce Wexler is, but if Martin Amis says it's dead, who can argue? Or, really, who would want to?
Since starting a Lilliput blog back in July 2007, samples of most issues from #100 through #150 have been posted, with the exception of some broadside issues it would be a disservice to excerpt. Beginning with this posting, we're going to step into the way back machine and begin posting poems from #99 (October 1998)down. Here's a couple of tiny gems from #99:
I'm getting old now I think I'll marry the rain and settle down
Albert Huffstickler
poetry the flowering morning broken away.
John J. McDonald
An Imitation of Hsü Kan (171-218 A.D.) 4. Since you, sir, went away, my tiny trellis shakes with grief. Red Chinese poppies you planted last fall grow like tears --- immeasurable.
Linda Joan Zeiser
Before the ride ends she wants to go again
Patrick Sweeney
Have I ever mentioned how much I love the one line poem? Till next week,
The first batch of new issues for subscibers went out this week and I am hopeful that the rest will follow over the next few weeks. Also announced is the publication of chapbook Number 19 in the Modest Proposal series, entitled The Turning Year: Japanese Nature Poems, translated by Dennis Maloney and Hide Oshiro.
The Turning Year is a companion volume to Unending Night: Japanese Love Poems, both of which are drawn from the classic 100 Poems by 100 Poets (Hyakunin Isshu). Both of these collections take a unique subject approach to a Japanese poetic classic and allow the reader to contemplate both the individual poems and their cultural milieu from distinctly unique perspectives. Those familiar with Dennis's translations of Yosano Akiko and others, both from this blog and as published in Lilliput Review, know that he stays true to the original while bridging the gaps from both classical and modern Japanese to modern English. His smooth, imagistic style is at once lyrical and economic, admirable qualities perfectly suited to the source material. Along with Hide Oshiro, they have put together a fine collection of nature poems that should entice anyone with even a casual interest in Eastern verse. Here are a few examples:
Beyond sight my thoughts turn to Kasuga temple near my home where above Mt. Mikasa the same moon shines.
Abe-no Nakamaro
At this place along the road, the known and unknown come and go, meet and part again, passing through the Osaka gate.
Semimaru
On this sudden trip to Takuke shrine I bring no prayer offering; God of the mountain path please accept the brocade of maple leaves surrounding us.
Kwanke
The Turning Year is a 19 page chapbook and sells for $3.00, postpaid. In a web-only publication launch, I'm offering the two volumes, The Turning Year and Unending Night, for $5.00 postpaid. For further information, email me at "lilliput review at gmail dot com".
In poetry info this week, it is Anne Sexton's birthday. She is a modern American favorite of mine and here she is reading her poem "Her Kind." This week the Best American Poetry Blog featured a posting on another personal favorite, Richard Brautigan. I'm not sure I agree with their contention that his poetry was not successful in his lifetime; I can't think of too many poets at the time who were more read than Brautigan but hey, maybe, all those funny mood altering whatzits beclouded me already fuzzy noggin. In any case, the posting reprints his "Your Catfish Friend," which seems to be hands down one of his most popular poems circa Internet 2008.
Finally in poetic news, William Carlos Williams' granddaughter has put out and appeal for folks to vote for WCW for the New Jersey Hall of Fame. Bruce is in already, so maybe it's time for someone a tad more lyrical. Williams is listed under the general category (Walt Whitman is listed under history - I'm wondering if there isn't going to be some nasty vote splitting there). You don't have to be politically minded or even from Jersey to vote and though they ask for your name, you can always dust off your old nom de plume if need be. Nobody is checking. If you are strategizing, you may want to tone down the Abbott and Costello vote - only two folks get in across all the categories so if you vote for other famous folks ... well, you get the idea.
Art by Bobo
This week's tour of the Lillie archive brings us to issue #67 from April 1995. Ah, that simpler time of the Contract of America, the Oklahoma City bombing, and the seemingly ubiquitous Unabomber. Ya know, come to think of it, the 90's had a kind of 80's feel without all that hair. Here's what was happening in this little world of the short poem.
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old fishing village -----caught ---------in morning mist
Patrick Sweeney
A Woman
A woman standing under the pier with her back to me, staring out at the ocean.
The water that slides up the beachface stops at her feet. I fall in love every day.
Andy Fogle
One Idea
The music of the night Calls me to come out Where insect voices sing Of universal peace And annihilation as one idea.
B. Kim Meyer
Rage
The rope that ties its own knots.
H. Edgar Hix
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Finally, here is Brobdingnag Feature Poem #27 by Mark Sonnenfeld. I'll give a free 6 issue subscription to Lilliput(or a 6 issue extension to your current subscription)to the first person who can tell me what he's talking about:
lawrence, KS
what I think about sometimes is old bridgeboards revving car engines that drag-race their dust to the rivers eerie current with all the mud + sand so high as now this river is nearby a church organist plays the daytime workmen listening from then her window in the land ladys rooming house sometime the boards pop at night a part of her left alone walking the old deserted pavilion she is drawn
Mark Sonnenfeld
For those who are not all that familiar with Lillie, the magazine features short poems, ten lines and under. Very occasionally, I will publish something longer under the heading Brobdingnag Feature poem. Hence, the above.
And, oh yeah, I do know what he's talking about ...
I'm still in the process of getting the new issues out, with about half the run in the mail so far. I've been a bit bogged (should that read: "blogged"?) down with a variety of projects all seeming to come together at once, including another introduction to poetry class next week, this time for Oasis lifelong learners. So, the rest of the run will be going out during April before I start it all over again with two new issues.
I'm mixing things up a bit for this introductory poetry session ("How to Read Poetry [& Why]" is the session title), adding a few new poems, both less and more challenging. In the past I've used Billy Collins's "Introduction to Poetry" in my preliminary remarks to help assuage any lyrical apprehension, as well as opening with James Wright's "The Jewel" and 4 or 5 poems by Issa. To ease folks into the poem section, this time I'll be opening with "The Lanyard" by Collins, a poem many non-poetry reading people respond to positively in an emotional way, which is the exact point where I try to make a connection for them to the world of poetry. Next I ramp it up with "Wild Geese" by Mary Oliver, a decidedly better poem that provokes a similar reaction, so the easing in continues. I thought it might be good to show folks that they can "get" Shakespeare, so I'll be using three poems in tandem: Sonnet 18 ("Shall I compare thee to a summer's day"), Howard Moss's modern take "Shall I Compare Thee to a Summer's Day," and Sonnet 130 ("My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun"). This may be a bit risky; in the past, my primary intent was to provoke discussion. Since I've had only partial success with that, this time I thought exposure to work might be a good approach. Since it's a bit of gamble that I might lose them with the bard, I'm hoping the bridge of Moss's poem will do the trick:
Howard Moss's "Shall I Compare Thee to a Summer's Day"
Who says you're like one of the dog days? You're nicer. And better. Even in May, the weather can be gray, And a summer sub-let doesn't last forever. Sometimes the sun's too hot; Sometimes it is not. Who can stay young forever? People break their necks or just drop dead! But you? Never! If there's just one condensed reader left Who can figure out the abridged alphabet, -----After you're dead and gone, -----In this poem you'll live on!
This week's taste from the Lilliput Review archive goes back to March 1993. I've noticed that the past three issues have the Royal portable typeface, so we are into the pre-computer era. At this time, I would type each poem up individually, cut it out into tiny pieces and place them carefully on blue lined graph sheets. If line lengths were problematic, I'd need to reduce the size via the copy store, bumping the darkness so everything more or less matched. Once the art and words were laid out to my satisfaction (this was simultaneously painstaking and pain-inducing, kneeling on the floor with glue sticks or elmer's etc.), it was off to the copy shop to get it all printed up. The lack of control at this point was really an issue. I'd run off 200 double-sided copies and sometimes they would be too dark or too light, depending if the underpaid copy shop person gave a shit that day. Then there were the inevitable typos, misalignments etc, not as instantly corrected as today.
I'm down with the PC era, though some of the quaintness and required skill-set have disappeared. Well, enough with the nostalgia, here's three poems from #41:
Lucky Life
you know how the dead never plant their faces against the windows you look out of and how even when you're up high you don't think about gravity
John Grey
3/27/92 - a brief interlude
my shadow. . . pinned to the wall
with knives of skin
Bill Shields
at the nursing home -----wound around the alarm clock ---------the dusty cord
Patrick Sweeney
Finally, yesterday was the birthday of a long-time sentimental favorite of mine, William Wordsworth. Since my favorite Wordsworth is a little too long for here, let's let Issa have the final word: this one's for you, William -
A couple of miscellaneous notes this morning and some samples from a featured back issue of Lilliput Review. First, a call for poems from one of my long-time favorite small press publications, Chiron Review:
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The editors of CHIRON REVIEW are reading submissions for an "All Punk Poetry" issue to be published Dec. 2009. Poetry, fiction, b/w line art, comics/cartoons, photos, nonfiction, whatever should be sent via snailmail with self-addressed, stamped envelope for reply/return to: Chiron Review, Attn: PUNK, 522 E. South Ave., St. John, KS 67576. Name and complete mailing address should appear on every poem, story, etc. Deadline: Sept. 1, 2009. Material is copyrighted in author's/artist's name. Payment: one contributor's copy with 50% discount on additional copies. If anyone wants to help spread the word, just copy & paste this in an e-mail. We will forward a flier for posting to anyone who asks:
chironreview@earthlink.net.
Chiron Review is open for submissions year-round. Postal submissions with name, complete mailing address (on every poem), and SASE are welcome at Chiron Review, 522 E. South Ave., St. John, KS 67576-2212. Writers are invited to send up to 5 poems, 1 long poem, or 1 short-story. We're also open to reviews, interviews, black and white art and photography, and essays of interest to writers and the small press literary community. We ask writers to limit submissions to four times a year or less. We do not consider simultaneous or previously published submissions; nor do we consider e-mail submissions though exception is made for book reviews and foreign/overseas submissions. CR copyrights in author's name, all rights revert to author upon publication. Pay is one contributor's copy. We would like to exchange subscriptions with other magazines and receive review copies of small press books and magazines for review and listing in my "News, Etc." column. They can be sent to the address above.
Subscriptions and donations are welcome. A one-year/four issue subscription is $17. The "Triple S" discount is offered Seniors, Students and Starving Artists. Don't be afraid to ask. And of course, those who are able and wish to provide more support than $17 a year are most welcome to do so. Subscribers may send cash, check or money order to the address below or we can accept payment via Paypal: poetry_man61@earthlink.net. The Personal Publishing Program under Kindred Spirit Press imprint is available to poets and writers interested in self- publishing. Through arrangements with a highly specialized printer, I can offer small press runs for reasonable prices. These prices include professional typesetting, printing and shipping. Click on the Kindred Spirit Press button below for more info.
Chiron Review presents the widest possible range of contemporary creative writing -- fiction and non-fiction, traditional and off-beat -- in an attractive, professional tabloid format, including artwork and photographs of featured writers. About a quarter of each issue is devoted to news, views and reviews of interest to writers and the literary community.
Past contributors include Charles Bukowski, William Stafford, Marge Piercy, Wilma McDaniel, Edward Field, Antler, Robert Peters, Leslea Newman, Erskine Caldwell, Janice Eidus, Felice Picano, Will Inman, Richard Kostelanetz, Lorri Jackson, James Broughton, Charles Webb, Quentin Crisp & a host of others, well-known and new.
Most recent Issue: $7.00. Sample copy/back issues: $7.00 ea. Send all correspondence to : Contact Info Email: chironreivew@earthlink.net
Location: Chiron Review, 522 E. South Ave., St. John, KS 67576
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Next, two more entire back issues are up online for free. Here's #159
And here is #157:
The purpose for putting up entire issues for free is to give poets a better idea of what the magazine is about and what types of poems are published there. Also, entire issues simply better represent the magazine as it is. Finally, it also helps those who'd prefer not going through the process of sending for (& possibly may not be able to afford) a sample copy. Issues #'s 160 and 161 may be found in this previous post.
Oh, and then there is the enjoyment for of reading poetry in its natural habitat for those who do that sort of thing. Failing that, there is usually some nifty art, by the likes of Wayne Hogan and Guy Beining, for the visually inclined.
I don't expect to be doing this as an ongoing project or archiving the entire run online (but it is an interesting thought, no) but I will now and again put up an issue when time and inclination allow. I'm also hedging against the eventual conversion of the back issue archive in the transition from google pages to google sites to something possibly untoward.
More about untoward in a bit.
This week's featured back issue is #28, from February 1992, and it seems to have a thing for butterflies.
Ars Poetica
Forging a poem is Like nothing so much as Building a butterfly Of bronze.
Patricia Higginbotham
Mother
Surgical teams Pinned her Monarch glands To a mythical cure And she steeped out Of her body With scissors and rose.
Patrick Sweeney
prayer flags
battle flags
no difference to the wind
Charlie Mehrhoff
Finally, the happy coincidence of Vincent Price, Christopher Lee, and Harlan Ellison all being born on the same day is just too good to pass without noting. Here's a trailer from one of the films Lee and Price starred in together, a tad less garish than the Scream and Scream Again trailer, another of their joint efforts (and we arrive conveniently back at untoward - faint-hearted viewers beware).
on the flower pot does the butterfly, too hear Buddha's promise?
With a reading and poetry program last week and another reading and a poetry program this week, and the new issues in the oven getting ready to go out to contributors, I've fallen a bit behind. So, posted today is what I originally intended to put up on Friday and Issa's Sunday Service will return in its regular slot next week. Meanwhile, all 77 songs to date can be found here in list form and here in jukebox form.
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Ah, Hallmark Editions books - small little hardcovers, with decorative dust jackets, that brought a world of sentiment alien to what is commonly thought of today when one says the word "Hallmark." The little volume at hand is 55 pages long with some 140 plus haiku, all by masters of the form and translated by one of the first and finest of all haiku translators, R. H. Blyth. There is a nifty intro that cites Wordsworth, one of Blyth's favorites - in fact, the intro may come from Blyth, there is no easy way to tell. The overall selection was edited by Dorothy Price, who did a very fine job, indeed.
All for the remarkable price new of $2.50 back in the year 1967 (and 40 years later you can get copies for only a dollar more, including shipping), this little book packs a formidable punch. The simply (in all senses of the word) stunning artwork is by Nanae Ito, in the traditional style. I've mentioned this collection before, but only in regard to a handful of Issa translations. I'd like to dip in a little more deeply now.
All 140 haiku were selected from Blyth's 4-volume masterwork, Haiku, from Hokuseido Press of Japan, unfortunately out of print and going for a pretty penny. The volumes are invaluable, no matter what you pay for them, and I don't often make rash statements when it comes to money. This may seem puzzling on the surface, but the poems aren't half the beauty; Blyth's commentary is unsurpassed. If you want to learn the origin of haiku, the spirit of haiku, the Way of Haiku, these volumes are your ticket there.
From Silent Flowers, I've marked some 30 poems for further review.
Silent flowers
speak also
to that obedient ear within.
Onitsura
The first poem, from which the title derives, is unusual for a traditional haiku and all the more strong for that. Silence is perfectly balanced by the ear within; only the inner ear may truly hear silence. That the flowers themselves are given voice is lovely without being awkwardly anthropomorphic. There is more of an almost synesthesiac quality if anything, suggesting one is "hearing" a smell or an vision. Quite fine, since the philosophical implication is most important of all; the silent flowers, most often cherry blossoms in traditional haiku, are teaching us the ultimate lesson if we wish to hear.
Just simply alive,
Both of us, I
and the poppy.
Issa
There it is, folks - doesn't get plainer or simpler or truer or more beautiful than that. After you read a poem like this, time to shut the book and get back to life.
My eyes having seen all,
Came back to
the chrysanthemums.
Isshō
That's not a typo - it is Isshō, not Issa, about whom I could find very little except that he was a poet of Kanazawa, who was warmly admired by Bashō. This particular poem might be taken in two ways: in the moment and in a deeper philosophical sense. In the moment, the poet returns to the chrysanthemums after literally looking about and seeing all. Figuratively, there is a kind of resonance - having seen all in life, I return to the chrysanthemums because they are most worth seeing and may tell us all we need to know, as with both Onitsura's and Issa's poems. It is said that Bashō was so moved by the poet's death at a young age, he wrote the following uncharacteristically emotional poem for him:
On the Death of Isshō
Oh, grave-mound, move!
My wailing is the autumn wind.
Bashō
The scissors hesitate
Before the white chysanthemums,
A moment.
Buson
This Buson poem I've talked about before, but I'm not sure if it was in the Blyth translation. All these renderings seem damn near perfect, but this one is truly amazing. The 1st line breaks at "hesitate" - which we do - the second ends with a comma - hesitating again - and the third, well, locks us firmly in that moment. We know what comes next and I'm not talking about a blossom head falling to the ground.
I'm almost overwhelmed with how resonant these short renderings are. There are two masters at work here at all times: poet and translator.
To pluck it is a pity,
To leave it is a pity,
Ah, this violet!
Naojo
Caught perfectly in the balance, the violet - and the human. Each of these poems seems the final word - on all of poetry.
They spoke no word.
The visitor, the host,
And the white chrysanthemum.
Ryota
Oh, wait, it would seem no final word, no word at all, is needed.
Striking the fly
I hit also
A flowering plant.
Issa
Simple trust:
Do not the petals flutter down,
Just like that?
Issa
How could I have missed these two the first time I looked at Issa's work in this collection. How wrong to strike the fly is seen in the result: two dead things. And simple trust, what could be easier ... and harder?
The long night;
The sound of water
Says what I think
Gochiku
Here is a little mystery - what is the poet thinking, what is the water saying. When we hear water, it says a lot of things to us. What could it be, says the old person to the young person, what could it be?
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This week's sample poem comes from the Lillie archive comes from issue #124, March 2002.
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