Merlin
And once out walking at night
I stumbled across the speckled body
of a small hawk
the hasp of its wing closed.
One note, one note.
It sings in the rills between words,
between hopes.
It sleeps between leaves in a book,
gathers like dust on the piano.
I heard it once on a green hill
in Aberdeen in short puffs of wind
stirring the new grass among stones.
Prayer could not alter it
nor clods breaking upon bronze.
Henry Carlile
"Merlin" from Rain by Henry Carlile, published by Carnegie Mellon University Press. Copyright © 1994. Reprinted with the permission of the author.
Autumn Leaves
The dead piled up, thick, fragrant, on the fire escape.
My mother ordered me again, and again, to sweep it clean.
All that blooms must fall. I learned this not from the Tao,
but from high school biology.
Oh, the contradictions of having a broom and not a dustpan!
I swept the leaves down, down through the iron grille
and let the dead rain over the Wong family's patio.
And it was Achilles Wong who completed the task.
We called her:
The-one-who-cleared-away-another-family's-autumn.
She blossomed, tall, benevolent, notwithstanding.
Marilyn Chin (b. 1955)
"Autumn Leaves" from The Phoenix Gone, the Terrace Empty by Marilyn Chin. Copyright © 1994. Reprinted by permission of Milkweed Editions.
from Eruption: Pu'u O'o
Novices, we dressed and drove out,
first to the crater rim, Uwekahuna
a canyon and sea of ash and moonstone,
the hardened, grey back of Leviathan
steaming and venting, dormant under cloud-cover.
And then next down Volcano Road past the villages
to Hirano Store on Kilauea's long plateau.
There, over canefield and the hardened lava land,
all we saw was in each other's eyes—
the mind's fear and the heart's delight,
running us this way and that.
Garrett Hongo (b.1951)
"Eruption: Pu'u O'o" (excerpt) from The River of Heaven by Garrett Hongo. Copyright © 1988 by Garrett Hongo. Reprinted by permission of Alfred A. Knopf, Inc.
Listening Images
Lester Young
Yes, clouds do have
The Smoothest sound.
Billie Holliday
Hold a microphone
Close to the moon.
Charlie Parker
Rapids to baptism
In one blue river.
Coleman Hawkins
A hawk for certain,
But as big as a man.
Ben Webster
Such fragile moss
In a massive tree.
Lawson Inada
"Listening Images" from Legends From Camp by Lawson Inada, published by Coffee House Press. Copyright © 1992. Reprinted with permission of the author.
from Poppies
I was Alice pursuing the white rabbit.
When I put my foot in a hole and tumbled down
I was Jack with an empty pail of water.
Waiting for the pain to let up I imagined
Around the World in 80 Days,
My ankle soaring as crowds cheered.
Oh yes there were moments of delight,
Stories I felt a sure part of,
Days in which you and I were perfect.
Robert McDowell (b.1953)
"Poppies" (excerpt) from Quiet Money by Robert McDowell. Copyright © 1987. Reprinted by permission of Henry Holt and Company.
|
Komo to yu mo | | You Say, "I Will Come" |
| Komo to yu mo | | You say, "I will come." |
| Konu toki aru wo | | And you do not come. |
| Koji to yu wo | | Now you say, "I will not come." |
| Komu to wa mataji | | So I shall expect you. |
| Koji to yu mono wo | | Have I learned to understand you? |
Lady Otomo No Sakanoe (eighth century)
Translated from the Japanese by Kenneth Rexroth
"You Say 'I Will Come'" by Lady Otomo No Sakanoe from 100 Poems from the Japanese, translated by Kenneth Rexroth. Reprinted with the permission of New Directions Publishing Corporation.
Delta
If you have taken this rubble for my past
raking though it for fragments you could sell
know that I long ago moved on
deeper into the heart of the matter
If you think you can grasp me, think again:
my story flows in more than one direction
a delta springing from the riverbed
with its five fingers spread
Adrienne Rich (b. 1929)
"Delta" from Time's Power: Poems 1985-1988 by Adrienne Rich. Copyright © 1989 by Adrienne Rich. Used by permission of the author and W.W. Norton & Company, Inc.
Water Can Only Wrap Me, But Life Must Hold Me
A black man, from Oklahoma,
Married moisture.
Her name was Ruth.
Whenever he talked a stone
Cracked for water,
But not for doom.
Over the years she has become
Sweeter, listening
Like a horned toad;
At nights,
Wearing only her own
Horned toad clothes —
But breathing
As stong as they fit her.
It has been years...
Love and exposure have become poem.
Primus St. John
"Water Can Only Wrap Me, But Life Must Hold Me," from Skins on the Earth by Primus St. John. Copyright © 1976. Reprinted with the permission of Copper Canyon Press.
Taking A Piece Of Paper To The Bodyshop For Advice
Don't clear your throat. Get right down to it. Don't be too smart.
Isn't just talking, relief? Work on your ear.
Steer clear of dull scenery, nuts and bolts.
Don't clutter up the page with what everyone knows.
Try to pull beauty like a tiny rabbit out of your hat,
and jounce it on your knee until you feel its tiny heart
skip a beat. Knot your handkerchief. Make a shadow rabbit
out of the weird nothing, everything is. Or,
be the smile on the face of the acrobat working the wire.
After you've found the hardest way up, find
the hardest way down. Body, rev the mind. One makes the other
sit sharp. Shake the chassis a bit. A good poem just might fall out.
Sandra Stone
Reprinted by permission of the author.
The Talker
One person present steps on his pedal of speech
And, like a faulty drinking fountain, it spurts
All over the room in facts and puns and jokes,
On books, on people, on politics, on sports,
On everything. Two or three others, gathered
To chat, must bear his unending monologue
Between their impatient heads like a giant buzz
Of a giant fly, or magnanimous bullfrog
Croaking for all the frogs in the world. Amid
The screech of traffic or in a hubbub crowd
He climbs the decibels toward some glorious view.
I think he only loves himself out loud.
Mona Van Duyn
"The Talker" from If It Be Not I by Mona Van Duyn. Copyright © 1973. Reprinted with the permission of Alfred A. Knopf, Inc.
