Between the Chimes: Charles Trumbull

Wise, gentle, funny, and humble: that's some tall order in one poetry collection and #23 in the Hexagram Series from King's Road Press, Charles Trumbull's Between the Chimes, fits the bill..   Though a brief chapbook, at 14 pages with 32 poems, it displays all the qualities mentioned and is, indeed, very fine as a result.

Trumbull deals in everyday things, with an easy, often self-deprecating humor, reminiscent of Master Issa himself.  Like Issa, some of the poems are plainly what they are; others resonate far beyond their apparent subject.  Here's one with all those elements:

thinking deeply
about my principles—
a wave collapses

The poet's revelation is right on the page: the wave crashes, being as deeply philosophical as will ever be necessary in this life, snapping the poet to attention.   The spirit of haiku comes from a deep, meditative-like attention to things and, when that attention wanders, frequently, if we are lucky, nature calls us back.

There is a haiku about baseball, a subject I formally hated for poetry (until straightened out by Ed Markowski), two about graveyards, and another about elections.   Election Day, it seems to me is a "holiday" which often is captured wonderfully in haiku - somebody should think about a small collection of election poems someday, if it hasn't been already done.

line drive to center
all faces turn toward
the sunflower field

This poem is exactly why I was wrong about baseball and haiku.  What a beautiful little piece, drawing us into the nature element of the national past time and making sure that people know exactly what they are like.  For some reason, probably obvious, I thought about the delicious tennis scene in Alfred Hitchcock's Strangers on a Train.

nearly dusk . . .
the shadow of her tombstone
reaches his

One of two graveyard poems, "nearly dusk" is probably my favorite in the book.   It is at once literal, figurative, heart-wrenching, and lovely.  Also possibly dark, creepy, horrific and more.  It's your half glass of water: choose.

election posters
a neighborhood dog
marks his choice

Really, someone should do a small collection of election day poems.  This one is a beaut and would deserve a prominent place.

on my copy of
Robert's Rules of Order
a dried speck of blood

Somehow, this poem feels like it should have been placed (by me) before the graveyard poem.  One of the great virtues of these poems is their truth - they have a quality of the found poem about them, a satori-like state again in that true spirit of haiku of which this is a good example.   Also, in this case, it happens to be very funny, especially for anyone who has had to suffer through emotionally charged meetings governed by the thin veil of civilizing influence which Robert's Rules provides.

grocery line—
the dancer's feet
in fourth position

This fine ku catches the poet in the attentive mode - how often we miss the details in everyday mundane tasks such as standing in line, as suggested above in the wave poem.   A perfect little moment here.

pansies      we smile back

This is another personal favorite - plainly stated.  Four words, one moment, universal - live in it, dwell there, it's eternity.

between
the chimes of the clock
shooting star

Again, another moment ensnared, a suggestion of time stopped, if just for an instant. One might think of this as the unmeasured moment. This is the heart of haiku, the heart of life, the breath held, in, out, rest ... live.

It is noted in the prefatory material that the cover image for the chapbook is Hexagram 10, from the I Ching, entitled "Treading Carefully."  Here is the explication:

When treading upon the tail of a tiger, if it does not bite you have success.  For the weak to take a stand against the strong is not dangerous if it happens in good humour.

Looking back over the book and the poems highlighted in this post in light of the hexagram is potentially instructive.  The hexagram gives fair warning, and also a potential approach to a hostile environment.  Humor is a key; backing down not a particular option.

As another bard so aptly put it, "it's life and life only."


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This week's poem comes from Lilliput Review, #177, December 2010.  Enjoy.

end
  I pull up a weed
  to find at bottom
  a heart rough
  and split
  earth dangling
  green
  shooting out

Christina Manweller

traveling geese--
the human heart, too
soars

Issa
translated by David G. Lanoue

best,

Don

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Roberta Beary: nothing left to say

Roberta Beary is one of the finest modern haiku poets I know. She was the winner of the 1st Annual Bashō Challenge here at Lilliput, which is probably the most modest of her many honors. With her 2009 chapbook, nothing left to say, pictured above, she joins an esteemed lineup in the King's Road Press low frills "Hexagram Series." Each of the volumes in the series is 16 pages long; nothing left to say contains 35 of Beary's haiku.

The hexagram from the I Ching on the cover is #63, "Completion." As annotated here, it is described thus:

The transition from confusion to order is completed, and everything is in its proper place. After a long and difficult period, it is finally time to rest and remain quiet.

The poems, themselves, are of a characteristic high quality. The opening haiku, from which the title derives, is a fine example modern English language haiku:

nothing left to say
an empty nest
fills with snow

This poem breaks in an one of traditional ways for modern English language haiku; the first line posits "the conclusion," with a 2 line image that follows that either describes or evokes the thought. Flip the poem around, though, for another traditional approach; with the 2 line image first and the 1st line as the conclusion the poem doesn't work nearly as well. Even with the present tense, making the 1st line the last gives it a finished feel that diminishes the power and nature of the experience. What is happening is ongoing, it is now; the reversal would undermine the continuous moment.

Next, an 8 word little poem, with considerable emotional power:

breakup—
my daughter's voice cracks
across two continents

With one word ("breakup"), the poet has encapsulated the whole situation. With its description in the 2nd and 3rd lines , the breakup is shown to have a power which geographically spans a tremendous distance, a distance which no doubt is exacerbated over the phone. Further, the use of the verb "cracks" lends the poem a tone of an almost seismic nature. The effect conjured is figuratively earth shattering, at once telling a narrative and presenting it with perfect metaphoric resonance, incredibly, without the metaphor.

in and out
of the lovers' quarrel
fireflies

I love this little poem and it probably is purely a matter of personal taste; this is what I think of as a "big picture" haiku. Placing the lovers in the midst of nature, the artist may simply put down her brush and walk away. She's done her job to perfection. There may be other movement implicit in the poem: the weaving in and out of the lovers' words, the possible physical movement of the lovers themselves as they speak. In this case, however, the unstated is just that, for a reason; the most important movement here is that of the fireflies, the how and why of them moving. All else is unimportant.

Why is the fireflies' movement so important? Is there something in it to be learned of the how and why of our movement? Does that movement mirror the lovers themselves?

Obviously, I think all of these evoked questions give the poem its intended resonance. Whether you agree that all that is important here are the fireflies really is a matter of opinion. But this little poem, which appears in 1st Annual Bashō Haiku Challenge Chapbook, is one of the highlights of a fine collection of haiku by Roberta Beary.


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Erie poet Lonnie Sherman is one of a kind. In the early years of Lilliput, I published two chapbooks of his work, a couple of broadsides and numerous shorter poems. It was my great privilege to publish that work. Lonnie is one of the genuine post-Beat voices; not one false note about him. He works in longer forms, so he is not a natural for Lilliput. His work, however, is a natural for my heart. This week's featured broadside poem is from issue #114, which saw the light of day back in November 2000. It is one of 3 poems in that issue. Lonnie's work is done in all caps so I thought, rather than reproduce it here, I'd scan in the pages so you might get a feel for the look, a mental tactility, if you will.

As a bonus, the page also contains a drawing by a world renowned artist, making for what I hoped was a fine complementary presentation. If anyone can guess who the artist is, I'll give them a free 6 issue subscription to Lilliput (or a 6 issue extension to a current subscription) or copies of Lonnie's two chapbooks and 3 broadsides.

Click to enlarge

And a final note from Master Issa:

if my father were here--
dawn colors
over green fields

Issa
translated by David G. Lanoue

best,
Don