Spell (Footnote to Howl): Issa's Sunday Service, #36

This week was the birthday of one of the premiere rock poets of all time, Patti Smith. In celebration (and to shelve all those Lawrence Welk and doo-wop shows for at least a week), public TV has been airing the documentary film Patti Smith: Dream of Life on POV. Appropriately, this week's litrock selection at Issa's Sunday Service is her rendition of the final part (or addendum, for purists) of Allen Ginsberg's masterpiece, Howl: that section, entitled "Footnote to Howl," Smith recorded as "Spell: (Footnote to Howl)."

Happy birthday, Patti. The two shows I had the privilege to attend here in Pittsburgh that she gave were two of the best rock shows I've ever seen and I've been going to concerts since 1968. The outdoor show with just a couple of hundred people in a light, cold rain was every bit as intense as the one she gave for a couple of thousand. Her connection to the audience is remarkable.

As a footnote to Howl and Footnote to Howl, here is a 2 part video made by Karen Lillis as part of her internship at the Carnegie Library of Pittsburgh. In it, she highlights all the resources on the poem Howl and Allen Ginsberg at the library. In addition, she interviewed three folks at the library intimately engaged in poetry as to what the poem means to them: Barry Chad, Renée Alberts, and myself. The video is static, the information dynamic. If you have interest in the poem and/or Ginsberg, I think you'll enjoy it.









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Public television is also going to be airing, at least in Minnesota, a show entitled The Poetry and Life of Cold Mountain, about the master Chinese poet, Han Shan. You can read more about it here.

There is small animated segment in the show. Perhaps these wonderful poems, whimsically rendered, will entice you to watch:






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Finally, a poem from Lilliput #56, April 1994, six poems of which were featured in a previous post. This little gem, by Charlie Mehrhoff, gives "flash fiction" a run for its money:

¶ nothing heals.

the doctor bends low
to kiss a whisper into the corpse's ear:
it was i who needed you
it was i who needed you

Charlie Mehrhoff

playing doctor
for the silkworms...
little girl

Issa
translated by David G. Lanoue

best,
Don

Singing for the Squeal: I Hear My Gate Slam - Chinese Poets on Meeting and Parting

I ran across a book in the library last week from Pressed Wafer entitled I Hear My Gate Slam: Chinese Poets Meeting and Parting. Though the title is not all that accurate a representation of the content and a tad unwieldy to boot, this is an excellent collection of work, translated by Taylor Stoehr, which I'd highly recommend to any reader with a predilection for Eastern verse.

Though there are, indeed, quite a few poems on meeting and parting, as the subtitle suggests, there are also others with more general themes. The poets represented here are ones you would expect: Wang Wei, Tu Fu, Li Po. Happily, too, we find Han Shan and Po Chü-I, among others. Taylor Stoehr has done a very fine job, indeed, in translating these disparate poets, sticking with a clear, minimalist approach without sacrificing any of subtly and resonance for which early Chinese poetry is renowned. In addition, the text is accompanied by ink drawings by the multi-talented Mr. Stoehr, as well as a cover painting of his own creation. Here's a selection to tempt you to head for the library, bookstore etc. for a more comprehensive look.

In the Mountains

You want to know why I live in here on the mountain?
Ha! What can I say? Is this where I am?

Peach blossoms reflected in the water –
in which green world do they bloom?

Li Po

I Wait Here Alone

Two white gulls glide to and fro.
High above them a hawk hovers.

Blind to the shadow flitting below,
they ride the wind along the river.

Morning dew drenches the grass.
The spider's web stretches wide.

The world attends to its business
of slaughter. I wait here alone.

Tu Fu

The Demon Poetry

I strive to pass through the Empty Gate
and clear my head of all its idle song,

but the Demon Party lies in wait:
a breeze, a moonbeam – I'm humming along.

Po Chü-i

Ask Yang Qiong

The ancients sang because their hearts were full,
today people sing just for the squeal.

If you want to know why, don't ask me,
go ask Yang Quong the singsong girl.

Po Chü-i

Too Many Words

Talking about food doesn't fill you up,
talking about clothes won't keep you warm.

What your belly wants is rice
and a thick coat is nice in a storm.

Sometimes words just confuse things
and make the Buddha hard to find.

While your talking the Buddha sits
fat and warm inside your mind.

Han Shan

Life in a Bowl

Man lives in a circle of dust
like a beetle in a bowl,

busy going round and round
never getting anywhere.

Enlightenment never comes
to those who scabble in the dirt.

Days flow by like a rushing river,
suddenly we find ourselves old.

Han Shan

Puzzling Things Out

Is my body real or just an illusion?
Who is it who asks such a question?

See how one puzzle leads to another!
I sit on the mountainside lost in wonder

till the green grass grows up between my toes
and the red dust settles on my head.

Country folk come to me with wine and fruit
pious offerings set out for the dead.

Han Shan

Cold Mountain's Poems

Here are Cold Mountain's poems,
better medicine than pills or sutras.

Copy out your favorite
and pin it to the wall.

Han Shan

Hibiscus

Hibiscus flowering twig and tip,
the whole mountainside aflame.

By the stream a hut, silent and empty,
and petals falling as fast as they bloom

Wang Wei

One editorial note: for those unfamiliar with the work of Han Shan, his name literally means "cold mountain" and so the poem himself is often called "Cold Mountain" and so he is referring to himself in the above poem, "Cold Mountain's Poems."

That's just a taste of this fine volume of work and belongs on the shelf of anyone interested in Chinese poetry. Mr Stoeher's are both carefully measured and natural, no mean feat. Since this Pressed Wafer is a relatively small press, I'd urge you to get a copy now if this kind of work is your cup of meat. It's liable to go out of print fast.

I hope to be offering a few more poems from this collection in a future post.

Finally, today is the anniversary of the birthday of B. J. Wilson, the fine, talented, underrated drummer for the band Procol Harum. In order to address this neglect and in his memory, enjoy the following.

B. J. Wilson

best,
Don

Threading Delightfully Loose Ends

Ryokan

Here's a tangle of loose ends that are coming undone, together, very nicely.

Recently I posted my semi-lame Top 5 Poetry Books for 2008. If anyone is looking for a comprehensive list of good work actually published in 2008, check out Cold Front Magazine's year end list of the best in poetry. Thanks to Ron Silliman, once again, for pointing the way.

Also, an excellent collection of poems attributed to Han Shan can be found at Moon Soup (No Bowl, No Moon), in various translations.

A creditable job was done by James Campbell in the NYTBR looking at the Letters of Allen Ginsberg and The Selected Letters of Allen Ginsberg and Gary Snyder. I've read about a dozen reviews of these two books and this one was one of the best.

Stuck on the mp3 player (and computer) is Apples in Stereo's New Magnetic Wonder and though one could cop to the cynicism (try that for a title), download these two tracks for free in their entirety, legally, from amazon: "Can You Feel It" and "Energy" and let that cynicism wash over you awhile and see if it doesn't transmute into something else altogether.

Stumbled across an interesting site of book extracts entitled Books in the Darkroom. This post reminded me how wonderful Kenneth Rexroth translations from the Chinese and Japanese are.

Finally, a poem by Ryokan, Zen poet known as the great fool, perfectly captured on film: