The Writers Block

Jinjuku Farewell

Gold Autumn,
a koto plays over
the tin roofs.

The stick houses
shoved close
the way stars
appear close together.

A dog walks
by himself. Red leaves
mat his tail.

The trees rinsed
with rain, the limbs
blackly clean. A dawn
wth no wind.

A yellow tractor
builds a culvert.
Sounds a foghorn.

A fire in a trash can
flickers the way
a television flickers
in another room.

Aldebaran and Castor
circle like horsemen.

I came to you much later
than others.
Your silver teeth and hair
white as Japanese snow.

When I go, I will write
and tell you what I see,
who is there.

You write prodigously. I can't comment yet until the other pile in, I know I'm a cheat feeding off the others best efforts. If only I knew what it meant.

Ieuan

it is not entirely clear if my narrator is leaving in the sense of taking a trip, or leaving in the spiritual sense, death.


if you have speakers, here is a short koto recital---

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=75uAD-XYs6U


one of the most moving films, for me, is realm of the senses---considered a classic, it is perhaps the most unrelenting X rated film i have ever seen, but to me it is art, not pornography.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bk_aOjfkCrY


thanks for your comments.



bernie

Bernie,


A yellow tractor
builds a culvert.
Sounds a foghorn.

The above reminds me of my grandfather, when I was five, and saw a tiny brush next to his shaving machine. He said, "Nobody touches it." I asked, "Nobody; not even you?" "Nobody." "Then, if nobody touches, the shaving machine sticks out its own little hands, takes the tiny brush and cleans itself?" (I happen to like magic--poetry allows it).

The following stanza repeats "the way" and it is the only stanza, besides the closing (which I really like) that is all prose in delivery.

Conjugating 'to shift.'

pen

The Japanese experience is indescribable

Ieuan,

I think you have something wonderful to compress in your poem/reaction.

Krishnamurti would explain that "no mind" as "no division between the observer and the observed," and speak of "immediate action." Very Zen. Clarity requires silence of thought (no thought). The idea of becoming what we do, of being that which we experience (Buber says the same thing, as do others). There is a Zen quality to Bernie`s poem--you captured it.

pen