Beano Gee and the Mystery Poetry Art

Artwork by Beano Gee

Well, here's a Friday conundrum for ya. An artist buddy of mine told me he found a piece he had done awhile back that was based on a poem, only it had been so long he completely forgot what poem it was. So, he came to me, me being the at work poetry guy. I puzzled and searched and guessed and struggled and came up with zilch.

A few days later, his addled brain pan spit back up the obscure bit of info, which wasn't all that obscure once he remembered it. That got me to thinking - I wonder if anybody else would know?

So, poetry mavens, here's the challenge: what poem is this piece of art based on?

To spice the pot (and get your own addled brain pan sizzling), I'll throw in a 15 issue subscription (or an extension to your current subscription) to Lilliput Review for anyone who can guess the poem or the first line (a bit tricky, that part, and something of a hint) AND the poet, or a 6 issue subscription for anyone who simply guesses the poet.

Reply either in the comments section below or directly to me via email (lilliput review AT gmail DOT org).

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Recently, Curtis Dunlap (30 haiku by Curtis - just hit "next") over at Blogging Along Tobacco road did a nice introduction to haiku and senryu that is most definitely worth checking out. Though I don't agree with everything he says - put two haiku poets in a waiting room and they will find something to disagree about except their sly attentiveness to that ceiling fly - give it a look see. It is very worthwhile.

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Anyone who follows this blog with regularity knows how very enthralled I am with the work of John Martone, one of the finest poets writing the short poem today. Here is a recent book by John, microscope field, in all its 96 page glory. It is full of wonder. A tip o' the hat to Scott Watson for pointing me toward it.



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Finally, today's archival selection comes from Lilliput Review #178 and it is a beauty. Enjoy.

Hearing a flute song
The monk's hand pauses
Copying the sutra.
Furrowed brows, you are
Too young for such a look

Yosano Akiko
translated by Dennis Maloney

wafting through trees
a beggar's flute
a nightingale

Issa
translated by David G. Lanoue

best,

Don

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Thoughts on Poetry for Lifelong Learners

Cover by Bobo

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.

Meanwhile, Curtis Dunlap over at Blogging Along Tobacco Road has put together a blurb/review, with a few poems from each issue of #167 & 168. It's a nice little sampler; hats off to you, Curtis.

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!

We'll see how that goes; the trick I think is in the recitation and I'm planning to use my best Jersey accent to get this one over. I'll be rounding the class out with "Never Again Would Birds' Song Be the Same" by Robert Frost (a big favorite of mine), "Filling Station" by Elizabeth Bishop and, if there is time, "Let Evening Come" by Jane Kenyon, and "maggie and milly and molly and may" by E. E. Cummings.

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 -

there's a house!
a field full
of daffodils

Issa
translated by David Lanoue

best,
Don

Two Reviews: Basho and Mary Oliver

Matsuo Bashô

I ran across two reviews today that I thought are of particular interest. The first is by Curtis Dunlap from Blogging Along Tobacco Road of Bashô: the Complete Haiku, edited by Jane Reichhold and featured here in a previous post. Here is the opening of the review:

My haiku journey has been one of cultivating a growing awareness of my surroundings. Through study, trial, and error, I have learned to preserve moments in my life and, occasionally, share them through haiku. I likely would have ignored such opportunities for composing poems had I not studied the works of other poets. I have had the pleasure of meeting and talking with a number of people who have inspired me through their friendship, advice, and poems. Such encounters have always fueled my haiku engine... (the review continues here)

The second review is of A Poetry Handbook by Mary Oliver and comes from the A Poetic Matter blog. It begins as follows:

I have this fascination with poetry handbooks. I think it started after receiving my rejection letter to the MFA program at Colorado State. Looking back, the portfolio I submitted was atrocious, but I was still heartbroken. I’ve loved writing since the third grade when I wrote a story and totally ripped off the ending of Roald Dahl’s The BFG. Why do so many children love the “it was all a dream” ending? Anyways, after getting rejected I didn’t do any creative writing for about 6 months. I don’t know why I took it so personally, but I was defeated. Eventually, I decided to try and figure out what was wrong with my poems– ... (continue reading here)

Both of these reviews manage to balance the personal and the professional, the subjective and objective, in just the right proportions to simultaneously engage and inform the reader. The first book I've read and found Curtis's review brought that experience into sharp focus and added some fine detail to that reading. The second I haven't read but will read now; I didn't imagine that this would be a title for me but the reviewer for A Poetic Matter was able to communicate very well why I it most certainly is.

Ironically, Oliver prefaces her Introduction to A Poetry Handbook with a poem by Bashô, creating one of those finely ringing, synchronous moments that, well, make life worth living:

The temple bell stops-
but the sound keeps coming
out of the flowers.

Basho, translated by Robert Bly

And, oh, yeah, there's that Bly guy.

Hmn. Is there an echo in here?



best,
Don

Roberta Beary's Video Haibun

Curtis Dunlap, over at the always excellent Blogging Along Tobacco Road, has recently recorded and posted a video of Roberta Beary reading a haibun for her dad. As most of you folks know, Roberta was the winner of Issa's Untidy Hut's first annual Basho Haiku Challenge.

Curtis has generously consented to let me embed the video here for your enjoyment, so here is a bright little moment for your Friday pleasure. Please return the favor and give Curtis a visit
at the link above.

And, thinking of fathers and daughters, here's a haiku by Issa, whose longing for family always shines through:

staying behind --
the nightingale's only
daughter.

Issa
translated by David G. Lanoue

best,
Don