Half a Haibun 2

At play in the field of words…

10000hoursleft's avatarWork in Progress

Half a haibun a collaborative project between bloggers. Shack: Robert Okaji prose 10000hoursleft tankaThis structure’s eye accepts light but not wind. Within the rectangle I cannot see my breath’s product. The floor resembles cork; our senses fill gaps in perception. Does one read emptiness with disdain or horror? The sun recedes. I fear ice in the trees, weight on my chest.

thoughts evaporate…

heaven’s clowns release their tears

sink! or swim time’s tide

silver trails depreciate,

mollusca’s retreat for one

Tanka inspired by Robert Okaji’s prose. Robert is a poet extraordinaire who blogs at O at the Edges. He is a beer connoisseur, foodie, sharp knife aficionado, and doesn’t take himself too seriously. Thanks so much for collaborating Bob! It was through reading this post on Bob’s blog a while back that I came across the haibun, beginning my love affair with the form. 

Half a Haibun is an ongoing (and occasional) feature here at 10000hoursleft. A collaborative project with bloggers I admire-…

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Poem Up at Calamus Journal

sol

 

My poem, “Palinode (sol, ischemia, night)” is up at issue 3 of Calamus Journal.

 

Language’s Power: time travel

Oh, the power of language… International Poetry Month beckons!

bonniemcclellan's avatarBonnie McClellan-Broussard

In my previous post, Language’s Power: across the universe, I mentioned the power of language to create and transmit images across time and space, a pas de deux between writer and reader. How far back can we travel through time? One of the many inspiring things I encountered in 2016 was some poetry that had its beginnings in the 21st century BCE: a new and utterly gripping translation by Andrew George of the Epic of Gilgamesh along with fragments of other Akkadian and Sumerian poems. What a flood of fascinating images! Interestingly, the ones that have stuck with me are the ones that I can’t resolve because they are are so unfamiliar; as when, in the Old Babylonian poem In those days, in those far-off days, the goddess Inanna takes an uprooted willow from the banks of the Euphrates to plant in her garden:

‘I, the woman, did not plant…

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Poem in riverSedge

riversedge2
This appeared in Volume 29, Issue 1, released in October 2016. I first encountered riverSedge in 1983, and vowed that one day my poetry would be published in this journal. It took a while…

My Poem, “What We Say When We Say Nothing,” is Up at Glass: A Journal of Poetry

glass

My poem, “What We Say When We Say Nothing,” is up at Glass: A Journal of Poetry. Ten poems, ten poets. The work is exquisite. Many thanks to editor Anthony Frame for taking this piece and aligning it with these poems. And hey, while you’re there, you might consider subscribing to The Glass Chapbook Series. Great writing and publication standards. I look forward to receiving the rest of the series.

 

New Year

tea


New Year

How transparent you’ve become:
even the leaves blow through

your pockets, and penitents
line up, awaiting the latest word.

Those who have, fear the most.
Each day collapses under its own

weight, rising again into the new.
Surgery brooks no illusions;

this house, too, will fail.
Owning little, I pour tea and wait.

bench