How few the moments
that my gaze has lit upon
the flowers of spring.

How many the months and days
that I have passed without fruit.
--Fujiwara no Okikase

Ada Banyak Warung

Apple slices
in coarse sea salt.
Sardines
in bitter chocolate.
An avocado shake.
What savor would these have
taken at a food stall
of bamboo
and blue plastic tarp
at the corner
of Jalan Kaliurang
and Jalan Yacaranda?

Another Renga-Like Poem

Dark Sandusky Bay,
Cold across the curving bridge.
Air conditioned car.

Sweet smell of cherries.
Pissing on the pink tablet
in the urinal.

Sweating, cutting grass.
Moldy turd beneath the hedge.
Old dog dead since March.

To stare or glass no
bird calls in the meadow tree.
Deer bark at wood's edge.

Peek up from my book.
A blur through reading glasses,
long hair and long legs.

Clarence, Sylvester.
Like our grandfathers' names, mine
senesces with me.

At a time like this,
there are no words to express
how I feel about.

Though God still the wheel,
still the car turns about it,
this engine of change.

Bone-deep pressure sore.
Waved away again, two flies
land on his penis.

Return to the marsh
or not: the crane won't be still
on the gravel path.

From across the stream,
wind extends a willow thread
to brush a shoulder.

Ruby lay with me
and beneath my fevered hand
nosed her silky head.

Isolation room,
fourth floor: ladybug enters
on my yellow gown.

Sunrise false cadence
makes of fireflies at twilight.
Play on, then, play on.



I don't much like some of the stanzas, but I find linked verse very hard to revise. Recalling that I work as a nurse might be an aid to understanding at some points.

Back to Poetry

In Deep Bamboo


Picking out tunes on my lute,
whistling a bit of something,
I sit here in so much light,
alone and facing the moon.
--Wang Wei

A Note on Method

My versions of the Chinese and Japanese poems appearing here have been produced by reading two or more commentaries or literal translations of each poem. I've used literary translations as well, but I prefer not to. Oh, and I like having romanizations too, so I can have more sense of the original prosody. But I don't really know Chinese or Japanese at all, beyond a few words. And characters are wholly opaque to me.

Anyway, I really appreciate comments, but I can't read Chinese. If it's in pinyin, I might make out a very simple sentence or two. Like, "Nide shi bu hao," I'd get that.

Dueling Abortion Ads: Both Wrong

The Tim Tebow bit most people have seen or heard about. The other one is a response from Planned Parenthood available only on the web.

Tebow first. It's great that his mom's decision turned out well and he's healthy and happy. But almost certainly some women have gotten similar advice, rejected it, and had a horrible outcome--assuming that you don't already believe that having had an abortion is in itself a horrible outcome. Also, the story gets much of its emotional punch from seeing Tim's embryo as actually being Tim, rather than, say, a self-actualizing recipe for Tim. What if the mom's story was, "I had a really bad headache that night, but..." So what's your favorite link in the chain of causation?

So now for the Planned Parenthood ad. It's just off the point. The ad has two guys saying that they have young daughters and that they hope that the girls grow up to be women who are able to choose what they want to do with their own bodies. But you can't get to where you are asking whether a woman should have choice in the matter or not until you establish that a embryo or fetus isn't essentially the same as a post-natal human. As a thought experiment, let's say we're in an alternate universe in which a neighbor of a woman having sex may occasionally end up magically miniaturized and in suspended animation inside that woman's womb. Do you think that you'd want your daughter to grow up to have the choice of aborting your drinking buddy, Fred, from next door? Nope, so first you have to establish that an unborn baby is a different sort of thing from Fred. But it's not all or nothing. If you can establish that the unborn baby is different, then you can argue whether a woman's control over her body should extend to aborting it.

By the way, I'm quite aware that a good deal of anti-abortion/pro-life talk has a considerable odor of misogyny about it. But that says more about the people who are talking than about the logic of what they are saying.

Books and Cigars

On the radio several years ago I heard a story about cigar makers in Florida. This was several decades ago, I think. Anyway, while they worked, there was someone who read books to them all day, classics, all kinds of stuff. Can't remember how this happened, whether their union paid for it or extracted it as a benefit from their employer. Or maybe the company did it on its own as a morale booster. Now that's my kind of job--minus the carcinogenic aspects. Maybe the job itself wasn't very satisfying, but it was it was quiet enough to allow for that big literary bonus.

Another reason I find this especially interesting is that my great grandfather was a cigar maker here in Toledo, Ohio. Although he died in the thirties, ten years or more before I was born, I imagine I would have heard if he had had this unusual perk with his job. Just think of how his progeny might have have benefitted if he had spent all his working life being read to. And think of how much better educated we would be if this were the accompaniment to every job that would accommodate it.

My ideal job--the reader, of course. ...The Tale of Genji...Janet Evanovitch...Moby Dick...Charles Bukowski...Nagarjuna...Douglas Hofstadter...