Rehn Kovacic & George Held: Wednesday Haiku, #197

        The fly settles--
 reading each word of the sacred text      
              with his feet

                 Rehn Kovacic

Photo by little red house

  Little Dipper pours
water into Big Dipper -
  Splash!

George Held

Kanji: Big Dipper sake

letting the samurai
hold the sake dipper...
chrysanthemums
                    Issa
                    translated by David G. Lanoue

 

 
best,
Don

PS  Click to learn how to contribute to Wednesday Haiku

Walter Mehring & Chen-ou Liu: Wednesday Haiku, #196

Photo by Anya Quinn

old garden gloves
poised for action
half dirt already

Walter Mehring

Photo by Pavel P

 

shadow on the wall...
as if writing keeps myself
away from myself

Chen-ou Liu

Photo by Photosteve

looking younger than me
the scarecrow casts
his shadow                   

                    Issa
                    translated by David G. Lanoue

 
best,
Don

PS  Click to learn how to contribute to Wednesday Haiku

Two Nostrils

Ferdinand the Bull

So worked up
lucky he has two nostrils

~ Korean figure (or aphorism)

translated by W. S. Merwin

from East Window: The Asian Translations

I've been working my way through W. S. Merwins book East Window: The Asian Translations and the section on figures or aphorisms is quite telling. Since the aphorisms, more often than not, refer to the foibles of humans, how Ferdinand came into all this I'm not sure. But, there you are or, more precisely, here you go: 

in the great bronze
Buddha's nose chirping...
sparrow babies

Issa
translated by David G. Lanoue

After a month of nearly no internet connectivity (thanks, Verizon), Facebook trashing the original Lilliput Review account (here's the new one for those so inclined), I hope to be posting a little more regularly. There will be a Wednesday Haiku posting this week. Thanks for your patience.

Yes, without those two nostrils, my head would have exploded. Now I'm just smelling the flowers.
 

best,
Don

PS  Click to learn how to contribute to Wednesday Haiku

Helen Buckingham and Margaret Dornaus: Wednesday Haiku, #195

 Photo by Phillip Pewar

midsummer...
her dandelion clock
unwinds               

Helen Buckingham

Photo by Gillicous

spider
            season—
                        forgive me, Issa

    Margaret Dornaus

Photo by funchye

the dandelions too
have shaved heads...
festival day

Issa
translated by David G. Lanoue

best,
Don

PS  Click to learn how to contribute to Wednesday Haiku

Building Your Wren's Nest: Robert Bly

Photo by Nottsexminer

The inner nest not made by instinct
Will never be quite round,
And each has to enter the nest
Made by the other imperfect bird.

Robert Bly
from Listening to the Koln Concert

Photo by Tibor Nagy

 

why so restless
restless, restless?
little wren

Issa
translated by David G. Lanoue

best,
Don

PS  Click to learn how to contribute to Wednesday Haiku

Yesha Shah and Kashinath Karmakar: Wednesday Haiku, #194

Photo by Basoo

old banyan--
childhood still clings to
the tire swings

Yesha Shah

Photo by Kenneth Cole Schneider

 
morning glory-
for a moment I am
the butterfly

Kashinath Karmakar

 

Photo by June Marie

swinging on the swing
clutching
cherry blossoms

Issa
translated by David G. Lanoue

best,
Don

PS  Click to learn how to contribute to Wednesday Haiku.

Archana Kapoor Nagpal & Jayashree Maniyil:Wednesday Haiku, #193

Photo by Brian Vogelgesand 

new moon --
my wishing lamp
on the holy river

Archana Kapoor Nagpal

 

Artwork by Ba Jin

anchored boat –
the weight of the moon
in her belly

Jayashree Maniyil

The Ba Jin art, pictured above is after the famed Li Po poem, Drinking Alone by Midnight. Never one to be able to resist Li Po, the poem follows:


Drinking Alone by Midnight

A cup of wine, under the flowering trees;
I drink alone, for no friend is near.
Raising my cup I beckon the bright moon,
For he, with my shadow, will make three men.
The moon, alas, is no drinker of wine;
Listless, my shadow creeps about at my side.
Yet with the moon as friend and the shadow as slave
I must make merry before the Spring is spent.
To the songs I sing the moon flickers her beams;
In the dance I weave my shadow tangles and breaks.
While we were sober, three shared the fun;
Now we are drunk, each goes his way.
May we long share our odd, inanimate feast,
And meet at last on the Cloudy River of the sky.

Li Po 
trans. by Arthur Waley  

Art by Francesco Clemente

(from 'Cathay: Poems after Li Po' by Ezra Pound)

------------------------------------------------

The Lark (page down a tad)

ripples on water--
mingling with the larks
a fishing boat

Issa
translated by David G. Lanoue

best,
Don

PS  Click to learn how to contribute to Wednesday Haiku.

Pretty Saro: Issa's Sunday Service, #192

Artwork by Bob Dylan

   

This 18th century traditional song, sung by Bob Dylan 43 years ago and just released last year, is accompanied by amazing video by filmmaker Jennifer Lebeau. As you will note, it is comprised largely of images from the Farm Security Administration. Dylan, for the 1970 Self-Portrait sessions, was in fine voice. The mention of "If I was a poet" gets it on the Sunday Service list. Here's some more about the release of this brief little gem. 

Pretty Saro (traditional) 

Down in some lone valley
In a sad lonesome place
Where the wild birds do all
Their notes to increase


Farewell pretty Saro
I bid you Adieu
But I dream of pretty Saro
Wherever I go

Well my love she won't have me
So I understand
She wants a freeholder
Who owns a house and land

I cannot maintain her
With silver and gold
And all of the fine things
That a big house can hold

If I was a poet
And could write a fine hand
I'd write my love a letter
That she'd understand

And write it by the river
Where the waters overflow
But I dream of pretty Saro
Wherever I go

~ Bob Dylan (traditional lyrics)
  

What follows is another version, with different lyrics, sung by Ires DeMent for the movie, Songcatcher:

 

   

---------------------------

 Photo by Martin Sercombe via foter

 

dawn's glow
hasn't quite yet dyed
the dewdrops 

Issa
translated by David G. Lanoue

best,
Don

PS  Click to learn how to contribute to Wednesday Haiku. 

Scott Watson and Leo Tolstoy: Good and Evil

I'm a correspondent of fellow poet John Bennett, whose email distro list I'm on. Likewise, for another email correspondent and fellow poet, Scott Watson. In both cases, these two poets have an unblinking dedication to truth as they see it. It has been an honor to publish the work of both poets previously, in print (Lilliput Review) and online (here at the Hut).

A little while back, two emails arrived in my box, one right after the other, Scott's first and then John's. First, I read Scott's powerful, devastating poem, IN PREPARATION FOR LOOKING AT AN A-BOMB. The poem, parenthetically, asks two very specific questions.

In his email, John passed along a quotation from Leo Tolstoy (On Good and Evil), which he saw a couple of weeks back (at the time he sent me the email, it was a day or two before) on the Writer's Almanac. In the quote, Tolstoy asks and, in a very real sense, answers, Scott's more specific questions. 

I hasten to add that, in my mind, Scott's parenthetical questions were, in fact, rhetorical, Scott's sentiment being very similar to Tolstoy's own, all of which may be gleaned in his poem, if by implication.

Or it least my feeble brain made the segue. This may be a case of the reader, myself, being way off base. Be that as it may, I want to thank both folks for permission to reprint. See what you think when what they sent, poem and quotation, rub up, one against the other.

IN PREPARATION FOR LOOKING AT AN A-BOMB

[Why was Hiroshima chosen?]

600 meters above

on a mountain's peak

a Buddha bone--or

tiny piece of one--is composed.

Innumerable scenes

are collected here.

[No flash photography]

Eternal Flame.

A sudden enlightenment

burns away

rational. Irrational too.

[Why was the A-bomb made?]

This life we are

given took eons to evolve:

incinerated blink

of an eye gazing

Namu Amida Butsu

Mercy, compassion--

  fire blowing winds

      prevail

          nothing can be done

and it rains

  back

      human myth

              reasons

skin drips off mama melting river flames.

I move with you

  through this exhibition

      seeing slowly

          as a lifelong

              teardrop

                  death

to know,

  touch, feel

          how this can be.

There must be something wrong with me

      that is me too

          wanting to

              forget.

Reduced to this.

Scott Watson

8/2014

Tolstoy on good and evil...

"...In 1854, Tolstoy was promoted and sent to the front to fight in the Crimean War. He was horrified by the violence of war, and in 1857, he witnessed a public execution in Paris, which affected him deeply as well. He wrote:

"During my stay in Paris, the sight of an execution revealed to me the instability of my superstitious belief in progress. When I saw the head part from the body and how they thumped separately into the box, I understood, not with my mind but with my whole being, that no theory of the reasonableness of our present progress could justify this deed; and that though everybody from the creation of the world had held it to be necessary, on whatever theory, I knew it to be unnecessary and bad; and therefore the arbiter of what is good and evil is not what people say and do, nor is it progress, but it is my heart and I."

~~~~~

not a devil
not a saint...
just a sea slug

Issa
translated by David G. Lanoue

best,
Don

PS  Click to learn how to contribute to Wednesday Haiku.

Shloka Shankar & Brett Brady: Wednesday Haiku, #192

Photo by Meena Kadri

early monsoon...
the taste of petrichor
in my chai

              Shloka Shankar

Photo by Alexander C. Kafka

   two cell phones...
the long long silences
      say it all

               Brett Brady

Artwork by Claude Monet

the haystack
soaking with rain...
spring breeze

Issa
translated by David G. Lanoue

best,
Don

PS  Click to learn how to contribute to Wednesday Haiku. 

Yield to The Willow Book Release Party: Friday Sept. 26th at ModernFormations Gallery

On Friday, September 26th, at 7:30 pm, we'll be having a party for the official release of Yield to the Willow, my second book for Six Gallery Press at ModernFormations Gallery. Reading for the event will be Jason Baldinger, Kris Collins, Angele Ellis, Kevin Finn, Gwen, Karen Lillis, Bob Ziller, and Scott Silsbe. 

It's $5 at the door OR a covered dish (cookies and snacks welcome).

For those at long distances who can't make it Yield is available directly through me at the Paypal button at the top of the right hand sidebar (over there ⇢) or by check directly to me or via Caliban Bookshop in Pittsburgh (info@calibanbooks.com), or from amazon here, if you will.


                 sparrow's little singing lesson: be, leave

                                                        ~ DW

hey sparrows
no pissing on my old
winter quilt!

Issa
translated by David G. Lanoue

best,
Don

PS  Click to learn how to contribute to Wednesday Haiku. 

Daryl Nielsen & Ramesh Anand: Wednesday Haiku, #191

Photo by victoryismine

just stuff people do
'tween cherry blossoms
and snowfall

Daryl Nielsen

 Photo by Sarah Elzas



sound of the conch
stirs the autumn dusk
last rites

Ramesh Anand

 Photo by Wendy Cutler

deutzia blossoms--
the children play
funeral

Issa
translated by David G. Lanoue

best,
Don

PS  Click to learn how to contribute to Wednesday Haiku.

Chen-ou Liu & Mary Frederick Ahern: Wednesday Haiku, #190

Artwork by Nukina Sūō

what's left undrawn ...
the sound of the pine breeze
in his ink painting

Chen-ou Liu

Artwork (detail) by Olive E. Whitney

bee abandoned
the blossoms fall -
letting go

Mary Frederick Ahern

Photo by Michael Goodin

thicket bees
in the next life don't
be like me

Issa
translated by David G. Lanoue

best,
Don

PS  Click to learn how to contribute to Wednesday Haiku.

Lariat: Issa's Sunday Service, #191 (& a parenthetical 192)

From one of the best, if not the best, albums of the year (Wig Out at Jagbags), Stephen Malkmus and the Jicks song, Lariat.

It's not everyday Tennyson gets a nod in a rock song (although there is this Hold Steady exception to prove the rule (#192)). Here's a dynamite live performance, followed by the lyrics.

Stephen Malkmus & The Jicks


    Lariat

Only a chariot could carry it
Across this void

I wouldn’t jerry rig or candy coat your Latin kisses

You’re not what you aren’t
You aren’t what you’re not
You got what you want/You want what you got
People look great when they shave
Don’t they?

We lived on Tennyson and venison and The Grateful Dead
It was Mudhoney summer, Torch of Mystics, Double Bummer

You’re not what you aren’t
You aren’t what you’re not
You got what you want
You want what you got
Feels so great in the shade

A love like oxygen, so foxy then so terrific now
On a jape I’m returning
Bobby spinnin’ out
I was so messed up
You were drunk and high
Just a ramblin’ wreck
Comin’ off the breaks to see what was shaking

We grew up listening to the music from the best decade ever
Talkin’ about the A-D-Ds
We grew up listening to the music from the best decade ever

-----------------

As my morning reading of Middle Eastern ghazals - Hafiz and Ghalib -, William Stafford, W. S. Merwin, the new Buson, and Haiku in English continues, this Robert Bly poems keep rising to the fore.

Here's a beautiful moment, indeed:

My Father at Forty

I loved him so much. I've said

That before, so don't be surprised.

It was a first love. Go ahead, open

Your hand. Do scissors beat

Paper? Does rock beat scissors?

It's just love and can't be

Explained. Probably it

Happened early. You're looking

At it. The way I found

Of opening a poem I took

From the way he walked into a field  

                                                               Robert Bly

Artwork by Utagawa Kuniyosh

though wrapped in
tissue paper...
a firefly's light

Issa
translated by David G. Lanoue

best,
Don

PS  Click to learn how to contribute to Wednesday Haiku.
PPS  Long live Pavement

Raamesh Gowri Raghaven & Rehn Kovacic:Wednesday Haiku, #189

Photo by Benoy

unfenced:
songs from
the tea garden

     Raamesh Gowri Raghavan

 

Artwork by Tsukioka Yoshitoshi

clouded mind
      the scent
    of sweet rain

      Rehn Kovacic

Artwork by J. F. Nauman

the nightingale, too
has a merry song...
tea pickers

Issa
translated by David G. Lanoue

best,
Don

PS  Click to learn how to contribute to Wednesday Haiku

William Stafford and the Body Language of the Tribe: Poem for a Sunday Afternoon

Purifying The Language of the Tribe

Walking away means
"Goodbye."

Pointing a knife at your stomach means
“Please don’t say that again.”

Leaning toward you means
“I love you.” 

Raising a finger means
“I enthusiastically agree.”

“Maybe” means
“No.”

“Yes” means
“Maybe.”

Looking like this at you means
“You had your chance.”

                                                        ~ William Stafford

 Back to the picture, above. (Psst: Facebook users, note stanza 5)

------------------------

And simply because I haven't had the time and I've been missing the Sunday Service, here's one to keep me honest (The Bar Kays!):

writing with a finger
in the clear blue sky...
"autumn dusk"

Issa
translated by David G. Lanoue

best,
Don

PS  Click to learn how to contribute to Wednesday Haiku