On lawns—in the parks

dirty snow 2013-03-30 14.13.22

On lawns—in the parks
Patches of dirty snow cling
Ragged reminders
Scrawny orphans—whispering
About a vanished kingdom

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To see all the Tanka, and writing about Tanka, on this blog please click here.

To read Songs about Sex, Death & Cicadas by Andrew Grimes Griffin, just click on the link. To download a pdf, right click on the link and select “Save link as…”

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cicada étude 2 remaindered (for Bob Read, d. 20001101)

Remaindered
(for Bob Read, died Nov 1, 2000)

乾称父,坤称母,予兹藐焉,乃混然中处
Heaven is father, Earth is mother, I this tiny being, am mixed in the midst of it all.
《西铭》张载/ from “Western Inscription” by Zhang Zai

Now that you’ve been dead
These ten long years,
I think it’s time we talked,
You cock-mad boy,
Wild for the touch of men,
Your lust for life
Burned you alive,
Leaving us to warm ourselves
Over your ashes,
On your half-remembered graces,
Leaving us to attempt alone
Our awkward waltzes.
I’ve made so many missteps
I could complain
It is hard to move gracefully
With one foot in the grave,
Yet you did it,
Made your dance to the graveyard
So uniquely your own,
Knowing
The sky is your father,
The earth is your mother,
And even at the very end,
As you so reluctantly left,
The universe enfolded you,
Somewhere in the small corners
Of the chaos called our hearts.

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Here is Grace Lin‘s translation of Remaindered into Chinese:

现在你已经离去
如此漫长的十年
想起我们说过的
这狂牛般的男孩
为男人抚触撒野
你对生命的饥渴
活活将你燃烧
留我们独自取暖
在你的骨灰之上
在你被半分惦记的优雅之上
留我们独自试图
怪异的华尔兹
我踏错许多步伐
我大可抱怨
步伐优雅多困难
当一脚踩进坟墓
然而你做到了
以舞步迈向坟地
那般独特属于你
知道
乾称父
坤称母
即便在最末时刻
你迟疑不愿离去
宇宙将你拥抱
在某一细微角落
我们的心嘈杂的呼唤中

All the études may be viewed here.

If you’d like to view the poetry and writing that is not tanka, or tanka related, please click here. 

To read Songs about Sex, Death & Cicadas by Andrew Grimes Griffin, just click on the link. To download a pdf, right click on the link and select “Save link as…”

cicada étude 1 lucifugous

NOTICE: This video contains images of gay sex. If dude-on-dude action is not your thing, move on. Oh yes, definitely NSFW.

Strange how being naked dissolves
The illusion of our bodies,
Clothes like border guards
Deserting their posts.

Feeling him I think of you.

A memory as red as meat,
As vibrant as crickets,
Desire as simple, as keen
As the thing under childhood’s bed,

Waiting

To give kisses to the dream
That is our flesh,

As translucent as jellyfish,
As transient as tadpoles,

Evolving in the night.

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All the études may be viewed here.

If you’d like to view the poetry and writing that is not tanka, or tanka related, please click here. 

To read Songs about Sex, Death & Cicadas by Andrew Grimes Griffin, just click on the link. To download a pdf, right click on the link and select “Save link as…”

The Catalog of New Emotions: Dyseuphoria

The Catalog of New Emotions Dysreuphoria

Dyseuphoria (pronounced:  /dɪsyuˈfɔr i ə/) noun — a state of dissatisfaction and anxiety about not having anything concrete to feel dissatisfied or anxious about; being unhappy about having everything necessary for happiness; feeling bound and determined to be miserable.

Usage:             Wandering through the exhibition about depression, Marie became dyseuphoric.

Whenever Jeff felt dyseuphoria coming on, he would read the news so that he could at least feel righteous indignation and anger.

Etymology: A mish-mash of the words euphoria and dysphoria to convey the contradictory states of mind and being brought about by insipid romantic notions such as “you have to suffer to be beautiful/produce something beautiful.” This emotional state is epidemic among “artists” and “creative types,” and those who watch too much daytime tv.

The Catalog of New Emotions is a project to refine our emotional sensibilities through the creation of new emotions and the development of a vocabulary to express these new emotions. If you would like to contribute to this project leave a comment. Your definition of the new emotion should include pronunciation; examples of usage; etymology of the word and why this new emotion is necessary.

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To see all the entries in  The Catalog of New Emotions, click here.

tanka étude #1 like water over a stone

You are tired tense
I feel it in your muscles
Running my tongue
Rippling down the length of you
Like water over a stone

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(for Cutty)

Depth Charge: The picture is of clouds over western Europe, taken by Chris Hadfield from the International Space Station, he described them as rippling like water over a stone.

All the études may be viewed here.

To read all the Tanka, and writing about Tanka, please click here.

Tanka études are experiments in tanka, image and sound.

To read Songs about Sex, Death & Cicadas by Andrew Grimes Griffin, just click on the link. To download a pdf, right click on the link and select “Save link as…”

My Deathday— Choose Your Universe Wisely by Clank

This year I decided to do something different for my birthday; I decided to celebrate my death. The end result was an incredible evening of poetry, song, storytelling, drawing, conceptual art, chocolate cake, laughter and a whole lot of love. Over the next several weeks I will be posting the results.

To see all the posts to-date, click here

To go to the My Deathday main page click here

Tanka: a look at John Mackenzie’s process

More on the process of writing tanka from John Mackenzie.

Mumbling Jack

Wrote another spring tanka this afternoon. In Notepad this time—it’s usually there or in the Twitter compose box that I write them these days, for a number of reasons but mostly for feel and convenience—and saved all the various drafts from the first small seed to the last finicky fix. Here’s the eighth and (so far) final version.

The First Wide Bursts of Green

When spring brings shyly
through her slowly opening
door the first wide bursts
of green, the pale red petals—
I will see your eyes, your lips.

 

And below are the drafts I went through, ordered from first to last, of course!

1
around the corner with the
first

2
When spring comes shyly
through her slowly opening
door with the first hints
of green, and pale red petals—
I’ll see only your eyes, lips…

3
When spring comes shyly
through her slowly opening
door with…

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My Deathday — This Poem Is a Knife by Lynn Henry, Part II — The Poem

This-poem-is-a-knife-1- by Lynn Henry This-poem-is-a-knife-2 This-poem-is-a-knife-3

This year I decided to do something different for my birthday; I decided to celebrate my death. The end result was an incredible evening of poetry, song, storytelling, drawing, conceptual art, chocolate cake, laughter and a whole lot of love. Over the next several weeks I will be posting the results.

To see all the posts to-date, click here

To go to the My Deathday main page click here