senryu (dallas winter)
Dallas winter - o how quickly we´re moving into *Sprummer *Spring and Summer
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Showing posts from February, 2024
senryu group (some very good ones//a ryubun in there too)
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after midnight dent in a beer can scream in night dim lights of convenience store orphaned— today i return a torn blouse buying a shoji... hearing neighbor's argument thru thin walls *a door, window or room divider used in traditional Japanese architecture, consisting of translucent (or transparent) sheets on a lattice frame [Endor Outdoor] it was the same dream: translucent fish swimming through his skin, and he; always with that spooked look in his eyes. later my day would start and i'd move through it-numb and untouched. no *Endor witch these days spirits avoid me *1 Sam 28 trumpet gathering dust so much ive outgrown antsy... thumbing through book don't really like woman's newborn— guess im not destined to have kids... spinnin' top and Lego blocks — my Amazon order rereading *Murata's senryu... out of town trip *Murata Shugyo, one of the 'Rokudaika,' (six great poets of senryu) (1889-1967) herbs boiling for a nice tea... torn coloring book
senryu group (hotel problems)
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lobby furniture all misarranged... don't care anymore . bite of the nightwind ignoring my homework . canned bellflowers fighting to stay awake . flat soda with whiskey— 5:25 am . deeply cold outside no punctuation in my senryu . slipping away to floss quickly — overnight shift . suppressing yawns can't wait til' shift's over . hotel problems— hot coffee though elevator doesn't work
Haikai Thoughts (on Senryu)
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Im starting to believe that #senryu is what Haikai poetry was all about without the overemphasis of including/mentioning a season/seasonal phenomenon...I remember a scholar (not sure if it was Henderson, Blyth, Shirane, or Sato...maybe even Makoto) who mentioned how the 'kigo' technique hardened into an inviolable rule. Knowing that in 'Kosenryu' (old senryu), it wasnt that kigo wasn't EVER present, it was that inclusion of a kigo wasn't required. It wasn't a law, so-to-speak. The lifeblood, focuspoint of senryu have always been people/psychology/human impulses/emotions/work etc I believe this in part the essence of Haikai as a genre. I read in a book I have on the collected senryu of the Rokudaika (6 masters of senryu), that Haikai wasnt a unified practice but was made up of many schools and philosophies with different thoughts. But Haikai was a reaction against the strictness of the Shoganate and poetic conventions that remained in the hands of aristocrati
gogyohka group (valentine's day)
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my growing children in different industries— America eats up all of people's lifeforces "go back to where you came from!" thinking to myself 'ive never been outside of this country..." with evening shadows gathering parked cars huddle in the coolness some nights i want to be kept warm by the long wail of a Alto saxaphone coming back home slightly drunk in the street dead body of a cat god some man's lingering cologne in the lobby this Valentine's day night i find myself annoyed one spring i sat around making up words... tainted water in Flint, Michigan eating a cobb salad was the water in Mississippi every cleaned up the people compensated desperation like a thick creole veil offering up prayers to the goddes Bastet
senryu (Valentine's Day group)
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love fulfilled—something charming about melted chocolate empty fair grounds, he reminds me of cottoncandy and laughter cityscape, tracing your faded arm tattoo hot water for tea, naked we sit around talking of things heightened anxiety, holding back a blooming scream... my stories told in vowels and consonants, burning sun dying fireflies peeled grapes of man barely looking at me moonshine: tired of being a 'proper gentleman' slicing a white peach still tasting his dark skin flesh of a white melon, many things i beg for umbrella in the corner i remain unmarried untouched unloved tossed-away dolls: rushing noon train to nowhere tangled hair, early February wind through a sliced melon hotel's doubledoors feeling lazy i commit to nothing crying child's runningspeechaboutthingsinthedark smokestacks smokestacks, returning home for dinner irregular polyhedrons, Life don't make sense many times multiple violences someone's violin sonata refined barbarism, s
gogyohka//gogyohkabun (leftbehind baggage of parents)
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senryu group (world of azaleas)
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in a world of azaleas, my next prolonged scream after evening concerts, lonely drinking at a bar in murky waters, next 50 years of human devastation wanting frenzied dancing at Studio54, sweating bodies dead elephants, somewhere puddles freeze and people thaw remnants of a train, no kids of my own recycled themes in my poems, a harsh laughter
senryu group
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love is ripening peaches vulgar rain falls cooking dinner kids building cities with blocks nesting birds while i drink myself into...something crack in her veneer...desperation mixed with rain curtain call—aged actress' hidden unhappiness frog song my youth in a paperboat set to sea lust—light glinting off a knife cutting fruit bed'n breakfast: ive never spoke up for myself nice azalearain adopted child's anxiety folding paper kings 'no one loves me...' i think Super Bowl Sunday...i simply do not care wabi-sabi...how irreverent i am towards moman moman in church i smoke out front the duration
micropoetry (hagar)
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[Hagar] dark of skin dusted by sand tears and bitterness mixed with desert water in her household enslaved and raped her man impregnates me 'cause she can't carry in my eyes 'Sarai'... an afterthought a byword for 'least' can't help it if i sneer cause Abraham be lovin' my hips lovin' my curves lovin' my warmth my ways a man-child be born wild as an angry east wind untameable—and mine then the dismissal into the womb of the desert where the All-Seeing watches my comin' and i will longstare him until im free
lucille clifton poems II
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[daniel] i have learned some few things like when a man walk manly he don't stumble even in the lion's den - [jonah] what i remember is green in the trees and the leaves and the smell of mango and yams and if i had a drum i would send to the brothers —be careful of the ocean— - [john] somebody coming in blackness like a star and the world be a great bush on his head and his eyes be fire in the city and his mouth be true as time he be calling the people brother even in the prison even in the jail im just only a baptist preacher somebody bigger than me coming in blackness like a star - [mary] the kiss as soft as cotton over my breasts all shiny bright something is in this night oh Lord have mercy on me i feel garden in my mouth between my legs i see a tree - [joseph] something about this boy has spelled my tongue so even when my fingers tremble on mary my mouth cries only Jesus Jesus Jesus - [the calling of the disciples] some Jesus has come on me i throw down my nets
lucille clifton poems I
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[solomon] i bless the black skin of the woman and the black night turning around her like a star's bed and the black sound of delilah across his prayers for they have made me wise - [job] job easy is the pride of God job hard the pride of job i come to rags like a good baby to breakfast - [adam and eve] the names of the things bloom in my mouth my body opens into brothers - [cain] the land of nod is a desert on my head plant tears every morning my brother don't rise up - [moses] i walk on bones snakes twisting in my hand locusts breaking my mouth an old man leaving slavery home is burning in me like a bush God got his eye on
gogyohka group
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often its the same bullshit with me... (can one curse in poetry...) suppressing yawns i clock out of work . 'fellatio...' that word has me lassoed and hog-tied tightly . halfwatching some Robert Redford movie outside damp sidewalks kissed by a nonchalant rainpour . the nervousness of a virgin unzippin' his pants the room overly warm as we do this . my colleague well aware how much i lust him... i really am quite incorrigible
gogyohka group
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evening rainpour near the damp bamboo shoots an old rusted can granddad used for cigarette ashes . in this gogyohka world another night nursing arousal talk of impeachments on tv . fighting sleep just to jot down a few gogyohka . aged imperial palaces i walk through night at odds with myself but strangely at ease . is there enough room to speak on another night untouched my man-hands.... settling for my own
dodoitsu group
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passing a woman pushing a child's baby-buggy... wishing i had a kid with no greeting a group of us board the local bus... mundanity again list'nin to the kids tell Louisiana folktales he brings me more sugar cane liquor from city to city people head to work— this morning i feel out of place... in a meeting not paying attention how many poems do i scribble on this pad the nerve of me wanting a form of poetry that i can dominate thinking of Sanford Goldstein... 'what do you see from the other side?' over my coffee this February day roughly holding back all my ghouls... in this snowfilled world seeing a bit of red my catalogue of sins have no more room wild crows cross a wolf moon: reading him sedoka before he returns to his wife the absence of a fever'd romance... kitchenside warming up cold pizza these wild birds across a cool moon a nurse takes blood from my arm
monotanka group
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stepping into a seething rain—these days romance'less, people jostle each other azaleas wildly arranged in a cheap vase, finally home from work i crawl in bed some woman icing a cooled cake: this year, ive learned how to laugh again lighting in my hand—some nights, this is how my imaginings go after drinking last train through Amsterdam...ive regained a bit of the happiness i dropped tenement living: a neighbor and i drink a bit of rye whiskey and woebegone stories approaching Genji's hibiscus door: sometimes i am a bit of a prude an arrogant sonuvabitch in a panting city—all the wife'd men falling into each other's arms with feral hunger standing to the side: mid-winter suicide in this iron forest, i barely suppress my laughter gift to myself—bloodred azaleas and spiderlilies, i am superlative at flirting with married men broad leaves turning themselves crazy the trees sneer at me while heading to work passing cars, the night road much too wet and i slicin
monotanka group (manmon's death sequence 2)
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manmon, woman of figs—five years later with a grief i can't pass in moments of general anxiety, sweat on the brow and still, manmon's deceased day before *Mær's Day: my world capsized "manmon, can you speak, can you move?" melancholy and depression shared a bicycle, five years later they reside in my womb in five years haven't been to manmon's grave: can't outrun self, her's, or *mo pær's ghosts
senryu group
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bamboo forest growing sideways missing a shoe death for treason: brilliant red of my lipstick buying a new bra—Saturday will bring fresh bread Lord Buddha's yellow flowers, man without fragrance wishing for snow: won't someone buy me a Hacienda children shouting an evening sun saunters across heaven jostling houses: tired but they lean to the left a bit holding the child's hand freshly manicured nails scolding someone's child into the unseasonably warm day tired of everything releasing my coin into noon-deep water dying invalid: coolness of a stone wall bottom of a burning sky someone opening a curious door Sabbath Day—home from work the Torah grows cold a pomegranate opens its mouth wrapped up in lust crossing a dark road my doppelganger carrying cold water old church road somone's dog and my shadow bought a tiny mirror in need of job with more money cold morning: unhappiness doesn't cost a thing cost-of-living too high—living wage? more like a zombie i don'
senryu group
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vilified, night parking lot becomes angry sea everywhere i look—dolls, same wide-eyed stares execution by electrocution—Julius and Ethel Rosenburg : summer lilies sound of florist's sissors, we sleep all up on each other adjusting a tuxedo seams of reality starting to unravel in love with toxic things a morning comes hesitantly asking no questions of myself accountability quite rare man: the eternal fuck-up, taking a bus home from work some things never change—overturned garbage can pastor leering at me—these biscuits quite hard this morning coffee's only made me sleepier who's sheering the sheep bleeding sepia—nothing poetic flows out of me toy bear propped up a woman dealing with mental issues... vandalism of guest's truck morning comes with its own problems bit of unease mixed in my coffee morning like any other
senryu group
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in hospice by beeping monitor potted peonies . breathing in this cheap wine cold camelias on rent day . with more wine he becomes talkative and touchy-feely . buying evergreen wreaths i take my tea cold . piddlin' with a guitar cornerstore musician dressed in overalls . as long as i live ill senryu goin' to bed . making a few senryu sudden interest in proofreading marks . buying a Creole dressing screen paper taut in sunspill . polished dresser drawers five silver dollar coins lined up . lowtown rain—you and i writing dirty senryu over drinks