February 28, 2006
city tankas
new! improved! now with caesura! a day in a city.
i.
across from my place
a man wakes right when I do
but he becomes just
a dress shirt in the window
a hollow cotton symbol
ii.
at market fresh greens
plastic wrapped yaki soba
and decongestant
nasal spray ah luxury
the balm of absurdity
iii.
a café a blonde
redolent on the sofa
one downy arm draped
along its plush back meanwhile
she browses a self-help book
iv.
the smug-faced scholar
nearby holds a history
text as if it were
a precious lap-dog suckling
while he strokes his suede insole
v.
the woman outside
in a brown coat and black eye
begs a smoke I don't
smoke and I'm writing and when
I look up she's gone my cup dry
vi.
solitude is its
own excuse told to ourselves
when no one's listening
the eye weeping up a pool
of invented lost letters
vii.
as shadows cast by
the barely ascending light
of winter mornings
we only know what we love
but that spare glow how it warms
viii.
the scent of this tea
evokes the trains of China
I'm passed by unsettled
that we have nothing like this
no owned scent to our people
ix.
cut flowers for sale
fresh off the gelid curb side
glorious un belonging
things that can only be bought
for their grace not their virtue
x.
heard on a quiet
bus ride home in the evening
a baby's laughter
a sheer felt tolling which draws
no echo from anywhere
Posted by Delire at February 28, 2006 11:11 AM
310 perfect syllables.
I had an online discussion with someone in Vancouver about Charles Simic. I was pro, she was indifferent leaning towards con. She suggested Ann Carson and I suggested Maureen Evans and gave her your blog address. And with 31 perfect syllables in a series of 10 like these, you achieve an exalted position.
Tanka. babe.
M
Posted by: MVL at March 4, 2006 10:06 PMAnd I thought commenting was broken on my site... what an awesome way to discover it is not: my poetry counter-offered for Ann Carson's? Her translation of Sappho is the absolute most!
Posted by: Maureen at March 6, 2006 12:25 PM~*~ - it's hard to keep a verbose man quiet. I found the link to comment didn't work so I attempted to pry open windows, doors and pull on seeming cracks in the walls. I clicked on poetry and then clicked on the tanka of choice, scribbled a message, and climbed out the way I came in.
Hopefully, you've been getting more hits. A woman named Maggie quoted you to me; I am twice blessed. I've also added your link to my blog.
I agree Anne Carson is AWESOME. I think Simic is EXCELLENT. You're in the league. We all agree (and 'we're' legion).
xoxo
MVL
Posted by: MVL at March 8, 2006 07:59 PMThanks for all! Quoted? I should learn how to read my stats.
Poetry is an orphan of silence. // The words never quite equal the experience behind them. (Said the esteemable Simic... do you recommend any particular work of his? I am under-read.)
Posted by: Maureen at March 9, 2006 11:30 AMCharles Simic can be found here . My favourite is 'The lights are on everywhere', which I may have sent to you in an earlier email (I have a pounding headache and I have to stare at the words for a beat or two until the become recognizable - I'm not sure if I'm spelling them right). Ciao! MVL
Posted by: MVL at March 11, 2006 03:13 PMAh, yes, you did show me that poem; of course, Simic seems to tinker with storied memory itself, appealing to gestalt tales and twisting them just so: the naked emperor; the shadow stalkers... so no one can help but remember his poems. The latter is close to the same conceit as Lakoff discusses in his theories -- only Simic goes meta-metaphor! Bringing it all back to art!
Posted by: Maureen at March 14, 2006 11:34 AM