M
ODERN
E
NGLISH
T
ANKA
l
Winter 2006
Volume 1 Number 2
MODERN
ENGLISH
TANKA
Winter 2006
Volume 1 Number 2
Modern English Tanka
ISSN: 1932-9083
Denis M. Garrison, Editor
Michael McClintock, Contributing Editor
Published by
M
ODERN
E
NGLISH
T
ANKA
P
RESS
Baltimore, Maryland, U.S.A..
Copyright © 2006 by Modern English Tanka Press, Baltimore,
Maryland, USA; All Rights Reserved.
Modern English Tanka — Winter 2006 — Vol. 1, No. 2 is
Copyright © 2006 by Modern English Tanka Press, Baltimore,
Maryland, USA. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be
reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means
including information storage and retrieval systems without
permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who
may quote brief passages in a review. Original poetry, graphics, and
article copyrights © 2006 by the respective poets, writers, artists,
and photographers.
Modern English Tanka
, a quarterly digital & print journal, is
dedicated to publishing and promoting fine English tanka
(including tanka written in cinquain and cinqku set forms). We are
interested in both traditional and innovative verse of high quality
and in all serious attempts to assimilate the best of the Japanese
waka/tanka genres into a continuously developing English short
verse tradition. In addition to verse, we publish articles, essays,
reviews, interviews, etc., related to tanka.
Modern English Tanka
Published by MODERN ENGLISH TANKA PRESS
www.modernenglishtankapress.com
Print Edition: ISSN 1932-9083
Digital Edition: ISSN 1930-8132
publisher@modernenglishtankapress.com
C O N T E N T S
Modern English Tanka — Winter 2006
Volume 1, Number 2.
EDITORIALS
1
Breathing Different Air
by Denis M. Garrison, editor.
2
Impressionist Elements in Modern English Tanka
by
Michael McClintock, contributing editor.
TANKA
15
Aurora Antonovic
a
n’ya
18
19
Pamela A. Babusci
23
David Bacharach
31
James Roderick Burns
33
Tom Clausen
40
Melissa Dixon
44
Jim Doss
47
Susan Doyle
48
Michael L. Evans
51
Amelia Fielden
58
Bernard Gadd
59
Denis M. Garrison
63
Victor P. Gendrano
64
Beverley George
65
Sanford Goldstein
71
William Hart
72
C W Hawes
75
Elizabeth Howard
76
Vidur Jyoti
77
Kirsty Karkow
80
M. Kei
83
Larry Kimmel
87
Deborah P Kolodji
88
Gary LeBel
91
Jean LeBlanc
93
J. Andrew Lockhart
97
Francis Masat
100
Michael McClintock
107
Annette Mineo
111
Cristian Mocanu
113
Amy Nawrocki
116
Pamela Miller Ness
118
Louis Osofsky
119
Jack Prewitt
121
Kala Ramesh
123
Chad Lee Robinson
124
Natalia L. Rudychev
125
Adelaide B. Shaw
128
Guy Simser
131
George Swede
134
A. Thiagarajan
135
CarrieAnn Thunell
138
Kozue Uzawa
140
Linda Jeannette Ward
142
Robert D. Wilson
144
Fran Witham
TAIGA
Victor P. Gendrano
149
sleepless.
Kirsty Karkow
150
I won’t succumb.
151
ritual.
Michael McClintock
152
in the woods nearby, Art by Karen J. Harlow.
153
right there, Art by Karen J. Harlow.
Natalia L. Rudychev
154
young woman.
155
after working all day.
ESSAYS & ARTICLES
159
There is No Turning Back
by Melissa Dixon.
167
A History of Tanka Books in English
by M. Kei.
183
A Hollow Shell : A Tan Rengay
by Jeffrey Witkin &
Pamela A. Babusci.
186
Diversity in Tanka
by Sanford Goldstein.
BOOK NOTES & REVIEWS
203
Fire Pearls
edited by M. Kei. Book Note.
207
Ferris Wheel: 101 Modern and Contemporary Tanka
,
Translated by Kozue Uzawa and Amelia Fielden.
Book Note by Michael McClintock.
210
Drops From Her Umbrella
by Laura Maffei. Review by
Kirsty Karkow.
216
empty garden
by Beverley George. Review by David
Bacharach.
223
Contributors
E D I T O R I A L S
1
Breathing Different Air
Careful readers of this issue of
Modern English Tanka
, and of
its premiere issue, will be struck by the response of many
poets to our invitation, proffered in our first editorial, viz.,
“
our goal [is] to give tanka poets a venue in which they can showcase
their tanka—not just their show-stopper, standing ovation, fortissimo
tours de force, but also their quieter, more subtle tanka, their strange
tanka, their haunting tanka, their terrifying tanka; even their snarky
kyoka belongs. We want to give space to the widest range of tanka
because it is such a new form in English
.” In response,
MET
received an extraordinarily broad and deep variety of
submissions—so many, we had to close submissions in
November, nearly a month early.
Perhaps our first issue proved we are serious about
showcasing tanka across a genuinely broad spectrum. In any
case, the proof is in the pudding. We invite your thoughtful
consideration (not to mention delighted enjoyment) of the
poems in
MET 2
. There are still plenty of fine tanka in
familiar styles, but also some that are unusual, provocative,
challenging to the reader. We could not be more pleased with
this outpouring of cutting edge tanka. Our invitation to poets
this quarter? Keep it up and send more in! Our windows are
wide open and different air is flowing through—a fresh and
invigorating breeze on which float exotic fragrances and
novel melodies.
— Denis M. Garrison, editor
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MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
2
Impressionist Elements in
Modern English Tanka
“He has never been known to use a word
that might send a reader to the dictionary.”
– William Faulkner (regarding Ernest Hemingway)
“Poor Faulkner! Does he really think
big emotions come from big words?”
– Ernest Hemingway (regarding William Faulkner)
In literature’s endless debate about words and vocabulary,
modern English tanka appears to have taken its own
direction, favoring neither Faulkner’s love of complex
language nor Hemingway’s notion of “big” emotions. Tanka
are not especially interested in the size of an emotion or idea,
big or small, but in rendering either or both in a way that is
immediately understood, using just a few words arranged in
five lines of lyrical precision.
One of the pleasures of compiling each quarterly issue of this
journal is the opportunity to bring together tanka that feature
a range of styles and subject matter. Each set of poems brings
a certain tone and setting to bear on our understanding of
tanka literature and its scrutiny of human experience, and
each one offers a distinct pleasure.
When I read a poem like Annette Mineo’s, below, from this
issue of
Modern English Tanka
, I am reminded of the creations
of the Impressionist painters:
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
3
in a black skirt
with one strappy shoe
off the curb
I part traffic on either side
like Moses
There is realism here, but it is not the realism found in most
haiku, in which setting, subject and action are presented from
an objective or omniscient, impersonal point of view. Here,
there is lyricism and plenty of “attitude”, and it all emerges
from the poet’s careful use of affective language: Words that
both describe and color the content.
Much has been written and observed about how visual arts
have influenced literature through shared aesthetics and
analogous techniques. While numerous comparisons and
contrasts have been drawn, in particular between the haiku
and tanka literature of Japan and its concurrent traditions of
sumi-e, painted screens, and various kinds and styles of
prints, it seems to me that modern English tanka finds a
closer echo in the practices of the Impressionist painters
—more so than any other prose or poetry that may have once
been associated, even casually, with this movement that took
painting out of the studio and into the world by painting
common subjects
en plein air.
In a recent article, Jane Hirshfield had this to say about these
cross-pollinations in art and literature:
“There is no contemporary poet who is not
already writing in ways influenced by
Japanese and Chinese poetry. This happened
near the start of the 20th century, with the
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
4
Imagists’ and the Modernists’ adaptations of
East Asian aesthetic forms, so parallel to
what happened in the visual arts. Gauguin,
Bonnard, Van Gogh, all have paintings
recognizably dipped in the aesthetic of
Japanese screens and prints. The history of
Western painting consumed that influence
whole and galloped on, and in one sense,
American poetry has already done the same.
. . The question of how the actual Japanese
poem forms (or, for that matter, the Urdu
ghazal) can and will be made our own is the
same as with any aspect of good poetry—we
make a new poetic strategy our own when
we begin to sound more like ourselves than
the poets we learned it from.”*
Mineo’s poem, like a Monet canvas depicting lilies and water,
implies an encompassing environment beyond the
frame—any city on the globe that has “traffic” and where
Western clothing is worn. The clothing, in combination with
the “off the curb” gesture, conveys much about the woman’s
character (and surely she is a young woman), her mood at
that very moment, and other details that are purely imagined
by the reader’s own memories of a similar scene, in a similar
place, at a similar moment, as if originating from some
timeless Jungian storehouse from which is tapped that
common, universal, archetypal experience of “Attractive
Young Woman on a City Street.” The language used is both
representational and affective, carrying all the essential
associations the reader needs to go beyond the dichotomy of
subject and object—a sleight-of-hand very typical and
characteristic of the best Impressionist art.
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
5
A somewhat surrealist application of this technique is seen in
this poem by Fran Witham:
a sea
of brilliant silk
rustles
at the edge
of the earth
The Surrealists were distant cousins of the Impressionists,
taking Impressionist subjectivity several counties (or
mountain ranges, if you will) over into the realms of private
rather than universal imagery and associations. Here, in
Witham’s tanka, the surrealist distortion of the silk rustling at
the world’s edge is relatively slight when compared to
Surrealism’s better-known extremes of subjective abstraction,
fantastical distortion, and ultimate arrival at “concept art” in
which “idea” became the sole object and, in literature, a kind
of word-soup with little or no connection remaining to an
objective world outside the individual consciousness.
Of course, in Mineo’s poem, words and phrases are the
pigments. The “strappy shoes” and “black silk skirt” are
complimentary images that together create the figure of this
woman, balanced in her moment of glory “off the curb”, full
of confidence and exuberant good humor in spite of what
must be frazzling circumstances, about to part the heavy city
traffic like Moses on the banks of the Red Sea—on her way
somewhere, for some purpose, her fate and destiny unknown,
but her brief presence among us, in this poem’s vivid
portraiture, stunning and unforgettable.
The following poem by Larry Kimmel, with its strangely un-
fisted moth and disembodied voice, treads that same
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
6
surrealist edge that is found within many Impressionist
works, one step removed from some of the imagery made
famous in Burroughs’ novel,
Naked Lunch
:
the moth flutters out
of my loose fist
into a drizzly night
something of your voice on the phone
remains in my ear
This issue of
Modern English Tanka
is full of similar vignettes
and treatments of subject matter, using language in ways that
are analogous to the Impressionist painter’s special use of
color and form to convey setting, subject, and action. The
majority of poems use asymmetrical composition and focus
on transitory phenomena and the effects of evanescence,
conveying not the subject alone (the “thing itself” or “thus-
ness” that is characteristic of classic haiku) but the idea,
emotions, and other associations, personal and intimate,
involved in the
experience
of the subject, setting, and action.
Take, for instance, this poem by Sanford Goldstein, in which
all the loneliness that comes of absence is conveyed by a list
of occasions for socializing and entertainment that are
juxtaposed to a stark image of table and cups:
once
after concerts
movies, plays
this table
held two cups
Though “sketched” in the sparsest language, the words carry
associations and a cognizance of events far beyond the
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
7
poem’s “frame”. In addition, and unlike the poem by Mineo,
this poem carries a far larger impression and sense of time, in
the form of personal history recalled in “concerts / movies,
plays” arising from the poet’s observation of “this table” in
the present moment—a table which, as he looks at it,
has no
actual cups on it,
and yet we see them just as the poet does, as
an after-image from memory.
In another poem, Goldstein conveys a mood we are all
familiar with:
washing away
last night’s
mood
I shower
I shampoo
This mood we recognize immediately—but what do we call
it? It has no effective word or term in English, and so the
poet names instead two personal actions to convey what was
necessary to wash it away: “I shower / I shampoo”. The real
point of rest here is on the new mood, also unnamed, that
comes from this activity and the sense of having been
cleansed of this unwanted remnant from the night before.
Other techniques and approaches to setting, subject and
action that appear to relate the way modern English tanka is
being composed to the basic principles and tenets of
Impressionism—both its view of human experience and the
rendering of that experience—are illustrated by the following
poems, also from this issue, which are generally
representative of virtually all of the work found in these
pages.
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
8
In Kozue Uzawa’s tanka, below, we are given imagery of
strong sensation:
in October
snow covered this town—
cold wind blowing
all day, and my face
became a winter face
The dichotomy of subject and object are completely erased in
the perceived, subjective reality of winter’s earlier-than-
expected arrival: “my face / became a winter face” becomes,
in fact, the archetypal winter of the human being as well as of
nature. Somehow, we are certain, it is far more than the
season that has changed here: We are given no name for it,
but only its effects through the sensations of early snow and a
blowing, cold wind. The poem is monochromatic in both its
literal and suggested cold whites. While there is harmony in
the depiction, there is an ineffable and delicate contrast made
between the human winter and that of nature.
A variant of this approach is seen in this tanka, also by Larry
Kimmel:
a flow of walnut hair
over an almond pillow
this winter night—
a slow dark river
to drown in
This poem, personal and direct, touches upon emotional
dimensions not easily paraphrased, but which are
communicated in a universal, almost Jungian sense. The
“impression” here is created by the harmony of walnut and
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
9
almond, by the “flow” of both hair and “slow dark river”—
seductive imagery, indeed, which makes the poet’s sense of
drowning all the more surprising as well as understandable
and stunning.
As in the imagery typical of an Impressionist painting, there is
no heaviness in the tanka cited above, nor is there
conventional depiction of the subject or its surrounding
detail. Each poem reflects a consciousness that is rooted
simultaneously in intellectual and emotional perception,
achieving a balance that the Chinese called and revered as
“mind-and-heart”—a unity of the faculties.
All of the poems cited here show a convergence of artistic
intention and method, whether conscious or unconscious,
with elements that have long been held as basic to, and
definitive of, Impressionist art. Some of these I list below, in
no particular order, as a means of summarizing certain
elements that appear to be most analogous to the way in
which tanka poets appear to be practicing their craft:
•
implications “beyond the frame” through use of
isolated, sometimes fragmentary detail to support and
convey an overall effect
•
use and handling of imagery that emphasizes
emotional, rather than rational or logical, cognizance
and experience
•
use of common subjects from ordinary life, treated
imaginatively
•
use of affective language (analogous to the
Impressionist painter’s use of color and form)
•
rendering the sensations and/or emotions and ideas
of a subject and its setting rather than reliance on
strict representation
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
10
•
a focus on subjective reality and the subject/setting as
it is experienced
•
emphasis on transitory phenomena and the effects of
evanescence
•
asymmetrical composition, in which the boundaries
between subject and background are blurred and the
subjective/objective dichotomy is erased in favor of a
unitary whole
•
an assumed “interactive” relationship between the
content of the art (poem) and the content of the
observer’s (reader’s) remembered experience
Most successful modern tanka appear to employ at least some
of the linguistic equivalents to these methods and practices.
Also, we see in all of these cited poems a striking and decisive
break from the traditional subject matter and imagery of
Japanese waka (the forerunner of modern tanka—“tanka”
being a term coined by Shiki to designate a new poetry that
was to be independent of waka restrictions), though much of
that has been and continues to be imported into the less
accomplished English-language tanka of today, creating a
Japanese-flavored Western poetry that is finally unconvincing
for all its other, real accomplishments as competent imitation.
In such poems as I have cited here, and in the thousands of
others similarly written over the past thirty years, we find a
poetry unique in English literature. It is grounded firmly in a
prosody that reflects Western concepts of art and philosophy,
values, and experience. Without doubt, we can see in them,
also, those elements that have been borrowed and profitably
adapted and transformed from the unquestionable wealth of
Eastern traditions. Modern English tanka reflect the eclectic
energy and nature of Western thought as well as any poetry in
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
11
English and, perhaps, even far better than most of the poetry
found at any other time in our literature in terms of its
capacity to introduce revolutionary change to what is
regarded as poetry’s special understanding and record of
human experience.
While the arms and legs of modern English tanka may be
patterned after the Imagist mold, ** its mind and heart may
indeed be Impressionist and, as Impressionism did, may lead
off into related but divergent directions, particularly those
exemplified by Expressionism, some forms of Cubist painting
and literature, Fauvism, and even some of the less extreme
forms of Surrealist art and literature.
Over the coming year, we will continue to explore these
avenues of thought, and to identify and discuss those
connections to culture and art that seem to lend themselves
best to a deeper, more coherent understanding of modern
tanka literature—its development, practice, and content.
— Michael McClintock, contributing editor
* See “Interview with Jane Hirshfield” by Michael McClintock and Robert
D. Wilson, in
Simply Haiku
, Vol. 4, No. 4, December 2006
(http://www.simplyhaiku.tk).
** See “Introduction” by Michael McClintock, in
The Tanka Anthology
,
edited by Michael McClintock, Pamela Miller Ness, and Jim Kacian (Red
Moon Press, 2003).
l
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
12
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
13
T A N K A
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
14
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
15
Aurora Antonovic
I look for scars
months after the surgery. . .
no proof
of the suffering
I’ve silently endured
pulling dead plants
from the autumn garden
this chill-filled morning
news that her cancer
has spread
as I apply cortisone cream
to my eczema-mottled hands
I recall the words
of my teacher:
You must suffer for your art. . . .
with the open-and-shut
of my eyes
the bad dream vanishes . . .
a shaft of moonlight
on your bare shoulder
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
16
Aurora Antonovic
how do I tell him
these new plans
don’t include him?
the herb of grace rotted
before it’s had time to grow
how vast the sky
how steady the stream
this sunny winter morning . . .
the joy of receiving news
from a friend far away
he brings pretty trinkets
dazzling baubles
from his journeys
but all I’ve really wanted
is ever, only, him
so alone
this first winter
after my sister’s death
with only the wind
to follow me home
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
17
Aurora Antonovic
hot, humid sunshine
to thunder storms then snow
this fickle day in March
the weather as indecisive
as I am about you
midnight
the den alive
with the flash of lightning
this breathless realization
that I love you
moon mist
shines through the window
and over the bed
this my only company
while you are gone
too much birthday
on this
my twenty-fifth year
I find myself suddenly weary
of excess and love
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
18
a
n’ya
how could sun scalded
mountains ever be more
poetic
than when ravens barrel-roll
into the deeps of their chalice
mid-october,
every street in this city
is blowing—
all the hardwoods pose leafless
amid their fallen glory
past reflections
from a Christmas tree lot
in the deli window
my father’s face and smells
of pine sap plus salami
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
19
Pamela A. Babusci
a friend waning
like a firefly . . .
who will tend
his spring garden after
the winter moon sets?
—
In memory of Jerry Kilbride
.
alone
too many years
i have become
the only guest
in my apartment
betrayed by a friend
is worse
than by a lover . . .
there are secrets
a lover doesn’t know
my plans for lovemaking
are dashed
my lover on the couch
sleeping
like a stone buddha
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
20
Pamela A. Babusci
accepting loneliness
as a gift . . .
i toss
pebbles
into a drowning moon
unemployed
& enjoying it . . .
time to read
bukowski & fall
in love with him
i’d rather be with a
faceless lover
than one who stares
into my empty eyes
asking questions i can’t answer
growing up
i felt invisible . . .
my mother
did she know
the depth of my love?
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
21
Pamela A. Babusci
after painting her lips
she has nothing to do
but count the endless
chokecherry petals
falling in the mirror
i’ve grown fond
of silent lovers
who needs lies
who needs
forever land?
you said
i was more comely
than the fairest wildflower
now, i see you have
plucked them all
—
Tanka Splendor
Award, 1996.
i feel the breeze
from these
mating butterflies,
once you and i
were the same breath
— First published in
Lynx
, 1996.
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
22
Pamela A. Babusci
as if i could
lure him back—
peonies flooded
in moonlight
on the bed stand
— First published in
Blithe Spirit
, 2003.
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
23
David Bacharach
before dawn
alone in the kitchen
I listen:
the humming of things
my life depends on
gazing
at my just born son
I promise him
a quiet, happy home—
he has forgiven me
the toilet
at the truck stop
is dirty
and stinks of urine
how good to see it
they watch
from the wall—
dead parents
so attentive
now they’re gone
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
24
David Bacharach
we discuss
nothingness on our walk
along the lake
but before we finish
the dog jumps in
we fished
the Delaware Bay
in a dory
when my father and I
loved each other simply
I try to recall
the dream last night
about my father—
all I can remember
is pain and sadness
an oak tree
above the dog’s grave
leafs out late
he waits patiently
for the coming shade
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
25
David Bacharach
distracted
from Thoreau’s book
by a noisy crow
and the scent
of spruce trees
the moon
sits on a hillside
as if
the summer breeze
will start it rolling
a long walk
into the woods
with my son
we always go back
the way we came
by evening
all my problems
sink quietly
behind a distant hill
with the sun
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
26
David Bacharach
groping
in a parked car
kissing and colliding
we stumble towards
our mutual fate
from the valley
we hear a man and woman
fighting
we both realize
it’s time to separate
in anger
I tore the bed to pieces
around her—
just splinters left
where we made love
a can
of chilled grapefruit juice
tumbles
out of the machine
that ate my dollar
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
27
David Bacharach
another day
and nothing accomplished
my horse
browsing on the hillside
doesn’t have this problem
this lowering sky
touches a row of gaunt
cherry trees
twisted and bent in grief
for their lost blossoms
an old man’s
thick white hair is all
I remember
he sat on a little bed
and talked to my father
tonight demons
are at work again
with sharp sticks
I escape downstairs
to find a pencil
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
28
David Bacharach
I’ll never enjoy
walking a wooded lane
as my dog does
back home he ignores
Beethoven’s Sixth Symphony
an old tractor
beside a gravel heap
at sunset
nothing special
about my memoirs
double doses
of medicine
for the old dog
it will kill him
but kindly
a guy
in a hard hat
waves us through
we start the fight
all over again
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
29
David Bacharach
brandy finished
new poems written out
it’s time to go in
but the hillside mist
keeps me there
the moon moves
an inch away a year
I’m told
as I squeeze mustard
onto my hotdog
young ones leave
and go to the city
an old Navajo says
I watch her fingers
string turquoise beads
just sun
sand and sagebrush
to the earth’s edge
my life, after all,
is not very complex
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
30
David Bacharach
$12.50
for a bale of hay
the Navajo girl
who sold her horse
offers me jewelry
I race the light
into a Kansas sunset
of corn and sky
at the horizon
I find only darkness
awake and weep
for another day
of lost tomorrows
as if I ever
possessed the future
a spice rack
of little white houses
on the wall—
which one, I wonder,
do I live in
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
31
James Roderick Burns
The fall of the leaves
from their greeny-brown corners
as the tea bag’s skin
grows ancient under my spoon—
dark, silent, inscrutable.
The civil servant
breaking at nine twenty-five
stirs discontentment
into papery coffee
like a dollop of fresh cream.
Portobello storm—
in the bank forecourt wet palms
turned up to heaven,
balance slips limp as posters
after the revolution.
Door shuts with a boom
in the underground car park
and as my boots click
across concrete, in the air,
Ennio Morricone.
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
32
James Roderick Burns
Hot stink of metal,
bright shrieks, the roundabout whoosh—
in this cubicle
how sorry I feel for you
my unfortunate daughter.
Scraping at windows
the newsagent’s boy reveals
a faded Capstan
poster, my dead grandfather
lighting up behind the glass.
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
33
Tom Clausen
the rain here at home
a week after we left him
at college—
wondering if he sees the rain
any differently now?
after we run out
of animated talk
while waiting for car repairs
she tells me that maybe
she had too much coffee
one of those things
you witness and register . . .
an older man at the travel plaza
is told to go to the gift shop
and stay there!
it looks too late now
to do anything about it
a sapling bent to the ground
overtaken
by the grapevine
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
34
Tom Clausen
my daughter whispers
“bad mood”
as my wife issues
further orders
on the home front
calling in sick
for the first time
in a long time—
the dog and cats
sleep the day away
it’s an art form,
that is what I come up with
to tell the student workers
the opportunity they have
on this job
all without vows
between us
in the dark
the attention he receives
purring . . .
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
35
Tom Clausen
I can see to the end,
it is so predictable,
those who will want
to save me and my inability
to see what from . . .
leaves mostly off
the trees,
so is it going to take
apologizing for almost
twenty years of mistakes?
on this long drive again
it is as if I’m inspecting
one by one
those buildings that are
closest to falling apart
it is a lifelong need
to feel what others
are feeling . . .
not to mention myself
staring out on winter rain
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
36
Tom Clausen
there is no other way
than to be all out
for everyone . . .
and what harm could there be
using the word love loosely
articles of clothing
left behind
in the hobo jungle . . .
I leave my mark
and take a memory
across my desk
a ghostly spider
makes a run for it
as if it knew
I had pen in hand . . .
just biding a little time
I order a beer
in a sports bar
a couple nearby
in full uniform
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
37
Tom Clausen
having said I’m sorry
too often
and being told so
I realize that apology
is a calling too
indicted
in the court
of my own opinion
the sentence, further attempts
to sort it all out . . .
watching her build
a ramp for the chickens
it occurs to me how often
things must happen
without comment
these luxurious photos
of nebulae
and super novae too,
her figure enhanced
by motherhood
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
38
Tom Clausen
quality time with her
that is what she calls it,
something rather foreign
at this late point
of limited exchanges
so much I can’t figure out
but will accept
on blind faith and gratitude
noting the truth of everything
that does work out . . .
a conspiracy
of my own making
this nightly feeling
so much more to be done
keeping me up later and later
sitting out a rain
under a shack porch
a young guy joins me,
his talk and spirit remind
of how I once was
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
39
Tom Clausen
a moment of regret
that the way the world works
we don’t tell strangers
we love them
spontaneously
it’s a delicate task
to take my daughter out,
to bond with her
and do what she wants,
without talking too much . . .
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
40
Melissa Dixon
how they changed my life
those years we were together
a magical clash
of minds lighting up
our own private sky
your voice
an intimate buzz on the phone
so close—and yet
so far beyond my touch
my arms ache . . . my lips burn . . .
lying on sun-warmed sands
your mouth mumbling
at my earlobe . . .
the insistent susurration
of approaching tides . . .
waking at dawn
while you still sleep, I sit
searching for words
to explain your unexplainable
presence
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
41
Melissa Dixon
walking a lonely road
like one from long ago
a slow wind
flowing through my hair
I lift my face to the sun
l
One Strange and Misty Morning . . .
Driftwood
sits on the shore
like a small tea table,
a truncated tree worn silver
at sea.
Question:
What ancient south sea volcano
tore you from the warm earth—
ejecting you
skywards?
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
42
Melissa Dixon
Falling . . .
molten lava
flowing past you, streaming,
hissing in the abysmal waves
below . . .
Becalmed
at night—as the full moon rises
above the horizon
a single face
shines back.
Tumbled
by tides throughout
the countless years, split veins
pattern your core like spider webs.
And now:
You’re here—
long, curly roots trail all around,
pale as a mermaid’s hair
lying across
the sand.
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
43
Melissa Dixon
Tonight?
A gentle surge
will silently lift you . . .
stealing you back. At dawn, you’ll be
long gone.
— First pub. in
Amaze: the Cinquain Journal
, 2004.
l
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
44
Jim Doss
roadkill
picked over
by squawking crows—
today I get
my year-end review
I want to be
the cheese
you nibble at
without
springing the trap
the pain of your existence
penetrates us
bit by bit
like the cancer growing in your lungs
the drip of the morphine bag
disbelieving
I watch the news
as if the world
were coming to an end
yet again
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
45
Jim Doss
the famous actor
amid much media hoopla
dons a tux
for his 5th
fairy-tale wedding
air-freshener
scents the house
with lilac blossoms—
outside a foot of snow lulls
the daffodils into deeper sleep
with Van Gogh’s ear
I listen
to the starry night
roll in
on the tide
cigarette butts,
scattered where he stood,
circle
his unspoken anxiety
like sharks
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
46
Jim Doss
the three graves
placed together—
father, mother, and stepfather—
I think I know
where I stand with each
veterans day— those remaining
stand beside the mayor
in their WWII uniforms—
withered branches
giving off their last blossoms
Assawoman Bay
you caught the cross-eyed flounder
hook line and sinker
just like your mother
caught me
alone in my study
the poem
like an SOS
slipped into a bottle,
set free on the tide
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
47
Susan Doyle
Autumn leaves,
ruby and amber,
crushed beneath a shoe;
you aren’t here
to see the dying of the year.
Pomegranate juice
stains your lips
red;
I lean in
to steal a kiss.
walking
down this dark path
above
the beating
of dove wings
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
48
Michael L. Evans
on this old pier
where we once stood smiling
two gull feathers
if they were magic
I would fly to you
these moments
of naked truth
before the mirror
I finger the scars of life—
reflect on those invisible
first day of spring
alone on this old dock
I wake from the dream . . .
red clouds drifting, drifting
through an emerald sky
these stars
I watch each night
before drifting to sleep—
will they ever hear me wishing
for you?
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
49
Michael L. Evans
those nights
when the north wind
chills me to my center
I remember honeysuckle
and you
sharing
midnight poems
waking filled with the muse
we head for distant ports to watch
tall ships
what if
I were to stand
earless in Shangri-La,
would your soft hands learn to sing me
bird songs?
old friend
sly Depression
your narcotic sweetness
calls to me—but I still have songs
unsung
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
50
Michael L. Evans
full moon
again the wolf
stirs within my wild heart
again my song to you will fill
the night
this dance
we do apart
in our separate worlds
always slightly out of step with
ourselves
thinking
I caught your scent
in a warm breeze last night
all day I sit at my window
watching
hidden
deep within her
two month swell, the echo
of my secret love song softly
beating
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
51
Amelia Fielden
I’ll light a fire
with all the old desires
burn burn burn
hopes of anything
more than I have now
the incense
of irrational hope
is relit
on our second evening
without arguments
‘you’ve got mail’—
it’s the missing words
which wound me
when I eagerly
open my in-box
the drought drags on
yet there’s a great bush
of white daisies
energetically
flowering by our fence
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
52
Amelia Fielden
across grey skies
screeching white cockatoos
swoop and swivel
like cavalry manoeuvres
on an old-fashioned battlefield
lines of light
streak the summer river
where children
shrieking, leap and slither
through my memories
you will do
what you will do—
I’m saving
my energies to fight
rip-tides off the beach
little birds
flutter in the fountain—
do you feel me
do you feel me more than
the words I’m e-mailing
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
53
Amelia Fielden
hiding the sun
holding its warmth, sea mist
wraps the swimmers
like a grey beach towel—
will you need me next summer
eucalypts bend
to dark winter winds
blowing blowing
way over the ocean
roses with my summer love
your cramped pencil
my lavish biro pages—
somehow
our differences
don’t amuse me any more
noticing
jacarandas in bloom
suddenly
thinking this at least
was worth waiting for
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
54
Amelia Fielden
white peony
at its heart just a hint
of scarlet—
why can’t you ever
completely trust me
— first published in
Kokako
.
from the glass vase
a red-black velvet rose
unfolding
into this silent room—
alone is not lonely
— first published in
Kokako
.
star jasmine
fragrance in the back garden
silent still
did I ever wish for
such a quiet life
— first published in
Ribbons
.
sun has set
all the brightness fallen
from the air
all the summer warm gone—
when will I see you again
— first published in
Yellow Moon
.
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
55
Amelia Fielden
this morning
the sea’s pale, lethargic
spitting up
sour-milk froth on my feet—
two more days of chemo
— first published in
Yellow Moon
.
unfolding
your letter I touch
your fingers—
spring has come again
with all its young hopes
— first published in
Tanka Café
.
to attract me
he once ran a marathon
not knowing
I wanted him to
stumble into my arms
— first published in
red lights
.
alpine meadows
scattered with wild flowers
finally
she admits that next year
she won’t be coming home
— first published in
Paper Wasp
.
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
56
Amelia Fielden
magpie’s song
out of windy darkness
too early
too early to start
another day of despair
— first published in
Paper Wasp
.
each morning
it flourishes along the fence
star jasmine
I planted there where
you said it wouldn’t grow
— first published in
Tanka Splendour
.
crimson-breasted
parrots in our palm trees
at breakfast
news of bloody battles
right outside Baghdad
— first published in
Tanka Splendour
.
garden at night
smothering in the perfume
of orange blossoms—
probably I’ve lived now
the best of my life
— first published in
Still Swimming
.
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
57
Amelia Fielden
in the land
of giant donuts
and cherries
a homeless man begs
through the eyes of his dog
— first published in
Still Swimming
.
such sultry
frangipani nights
and you too tired
to want to tango
down the bedroom hall
— first published in
Stylus
.
scorching morning
the garden tap molten
in my hand
faded hydrangeas
so tired of summer
— first published in
Stylus
.
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
58
Bernard Gadd
the summer palace?
a huge lake’s glimmer?
I see only
the architecture
that’s you
your forests are red
I’ll walk among totara
imagine colours
the chill winds, the leaves
dying on grass
you laugh hugging
the cliff, your skirt’s brief red
the sole brilliance
in a noon of dull
leaves and stone
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
59
Denis M. Garrison
. . . today he returned
after several years’ absence
he grasps my hand
so tightly, so long,
I remember why . . .
the puma’s trail
reveals a dragging limp
I unload my rifle—
the dinner check is paid
without the usual banter
across the lake
high-rise apartments burn
flames stab the night sky
when you bark my name
I turn to our latest row
the day grandma died,
in the red glow of pa’s pipe
on the porch that night
for a moment, his wet face—
the one time I saw him weep
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
60
Denis M. Garrison
holding your last note
torn, smeared pages, silent in
empty useless hands
gone dry and yellow
they curl … they crumble
the “I” of the eye
might be anonymous
but the sea it sees
has an honored name
in every human tongue
Last Run to Eden
(a tanka string)
cold water flat
by the westbound tracks
shuddering
as car after car
leaves without me
even though hundreds
have passed me by
each train I’m not on
seems like
the last run to Eden
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
61
Denis M. Garrison
fading whistles
and clatter
crossing lights blink off
Iowa at 2 AM
is the dark side of the moon
westbound at last
all I own in a duffel bag
breathing different air
I leave far more
than Iowa behind
abandoned tracks
the curve of rusted rails
into red sunset—
the barmaid’s bra
lies exhausted on the bed
in our pullman berth
we burst out laughing
as our rhythm
harmonizes
with the racketing rails
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
62
Denis M. Garrison
cheerful dining car
then I notice
your untouched place setting
the handwritten note
with just one word
at the train station
waiting on the platform
in case you arrive
a thousand faces pass
too many but not enough
outside my window
million-dollar scenery
for endless miles
I slump in my seat
your ticket in my fist
heading home
for a funeral of sorts
riding the rails
across a golden prairie
windblown and empty
l
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
63
Victor P. Gendrano
warmth of her touch
in that snowy weekend
fantasy fling
am I ready or a fool
to fall in love again
I feel alone
in the crowded tour bus
this misty morning
she calls my cell phone
she cannot come at all
starved for a woman’s touch
he indulges in fantasy
and falls prey to a flirt
beneath the cloak of night
alone, he weeps
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
64
Beverley George
your old wool scarf
flaps from a verandah peg
stilling it
with both my hands
I weave a Celtic knot
a ragged line betrays
the rip beneath the river
I watch your fingers
trace erratic shapes
on the smoke-glass table
pauses and silences,
your sudden indrawn breath
these days I hope
you will not say you love me—
how ordinary that would sound
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
65
Sanford Goldstein
Written in 1974, this “cluster” (Sanford’s term) is being
published for the first time here in
MET
.
[
The Editor
.]
ephemerality: a tanka cluster
cherry blossoms
from this March tree—
how flickering
the Buddha
mentality
they’re too brief!
too short!
I cried
reading my poems
this April night
again
September corridor walk
and all the open doors
shout
frail! frail!
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
66
Sanford Goldstein
this leaf smell
as if burning
burning
even the transitory
away
once
after concerts
movies, plays
this table
held two cups
washing away
last night’s
mood
I shower
I shampoo
the afternoon’s
enormity
it too will pass
passes—
I drink coffee in this paper cup
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
67
Sanford Goldstein
see, Basho,
I too can stop,
can notice
this something
blooming beneath a hedge
trying for sound
I see
the watering down
even of this fragile
tanka world
where’s
last night’s image
I held in a gray form?
today’s chopped wind
rattles the maple like a toy
l
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
68
Sanford Goldstein
This cluster, published here for the first time,
was written in l976-l979 and revised in 2006.
[
The Editor
.]
the ambiguity of space: a tanka cluster
my bitterness
unscrewed,
I put it on
a white plate
to the left of now
give me
a circle in mist
where all that’s forbidden
dances
pokes
my street walk’s
ambiguous
looking unseen,
and the want
pressing like some dark spite
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
69
Sanford Goldstein
I have galloped
ten miles
from today’s now:
there are cliffs, promontories,
and in the distance castrates walk a beach
once
my kids
placed on slides
came down down
into these five arms
there’s a distant
slice of cake
that sometimes
in dreams
my fork plunges into
what’s this zen
dynamism I learned—
these bursts from the All?
these dewdrops
from a crane’s beak?
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
70
Sanford Goldstein
let me space
five lines
for a decade—
I breathed
and there was pain
I take
the assigned frequencies
walking in my battered cap,
and later, on paper napkins,
the face of another
jarred loose,
I roll
like gravel
picking up
this tanka world
wanting
tonight
at least
parts greater
than the whole!
l
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
71
William Hart
Kolkata, India
tall in the night
stands an office tower
face lit, eyes dark
backed by shadow towers . . .
a leader and his keepers
this apple core
to me an ending
is to the waiting crow
a new beginning
yet to begin
a tall ladder
left leaning
on a light pole
raises a stairway
into the dawn sky
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
72
C W Hawes
in this dream
they are all singing to me
those trees
that I knew so well
and considered my friends
of my former
classmate from tenth grade
I could only ask
about the old neighborhood
and if it had changed much
purple skyline
on the eastern horizon
mid-September morning
I turn and see you sleeping
and promptly forget the sun
yet again
eating gallo pinto
for supper
the monotony of the poor
at least I get some fiber
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
73
C W Hawes
fingering
these blood red prayer beads . . .
harvest moon
a whisper of wind
moves the stillness
standing room
all that’s left on this bus
with no air
sweaty blank faces
faces sweaty blank
blow upon blow
the striking of the mallet
driving driving
into the hard ground
the outlying fence post
August moon
after twenty-eight years
some clothes some books
the dingy room lit
by the neon sign
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
74
C W Hawes
this heat
this incredible heat
shimmering
the fat white maggots
all look so very familiar
viewing the lake
this foggy morning in June
swirling shapes
that remind me so much
of the dream I woke from
the hillside
white as with snowfall
apple blossoms
and her favorite tree
there upon the woodpile
a bite
of this fragrant purple plum
the sweet juice
running down my beard
your slender fingers
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
75
Elizabeth Howard
deserted farmstead
kudzu covers
a five-fingered tree
a dead man’s hand
rotten flesh peeling away
across the lake
from the park café
an oddity to tourists
a lonely homestead
an old man push-mowing
demolition—
the tot’s foot swings
crashing the barricade
in rhythm
with the wrecking ball
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
76
Vidur Jyoti
vacant baskets
drifting strains of pipe
dancing snakes steal a glance
clouds gather in sky
her tresses over my face
stacked memories
survive flowers in the vase
in that musty room
files in a heap
gasp for fragrance
through palm fronds
on the river bank
moon slips into waters
with outstretched hands
her child reaches out to sky
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
77
Kirsty Karkow
the red fox
dared to cross the pond
on thinnest ice
our footprints in light snow
straight and sure
again this dream
I stroll through greening woods
in the pale shadows
lie ammunition factories
overgrown with vines
the monkey’s fist
will not release a sweet
though capture looms
such greed I understand
each time I touch your hand
multitudes
of stars and grains of sand
a zillion leaves
who can ever hope
to measure memories
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
78
Kirsty Karkow
litany . . .
she relates a lifetime
of troubles
yet there—a butterfly
lilts through yellow Cosmos
she never said
and I never asked
about her mother . . .
now peony petals
have blown across the lawn
— First published in
American Tanka
, 2004.
a multitude
of meadow buttercups
who could want
to take them home to fade
and wither in a vase
— Japan Tanka Poet’s Society, 2003.
whirligig
beetles swim crazily
in circles
I pause to watch them briefly
there is so much to do
— First published in
Hermitage
, 2004.
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
79
Kirsty Karkow
apricot moon
painting a ripple path
across the water
far away I have a friend
who shares its light with me
— TSA anthology
Castles in the Sand
, 2003.
—
water poems: haiku, tanka and sijo
, 2005.
a torrid day
broken by thunder
quick and sharp
this streak of anger
sadly misdirected
—
TSA Newsletter
, 2002.
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
80
M. Kei
Occasionally
during the hot summer days
I think I hear her,
but then it turns out to be
a stranger passing my gate.
She left,
and now I’m left
with this bedroom
she painted
pink.
I entered a cove
between two legs of land,
I set my anchor
in a brown bay
I am loathe to leave.
I harvest the fruits
of her lingerie, hanging
from lush vines
in the humid jungle
of the bathroom.
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
81
M. Kei
Her hand in mine
is strong as silk
and these skies
are purer
than Heaven itself.
I have heard of love that
lasts for fifty years,
now at forty-five, I think
I would settle for
fifteen or twenty.
Musing over the view,
I wish there was one
who would share it.
A single dandelion
clings to the precipice.
half life . . .
women are a
beautiful torment,
but it’s men
who break my heart
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
82
M. Kei
His burlap skin
washed by the
diamond waters,
and everywhere,
jellyfish in bloom.
Even though
the waves come and go,
it is better
to love the ocean
than the crumbling mountain.
Lightning
lasted longer
than your love,
so now I am
the thunder.
what i want
is a lover’s touch
that doesn’t
make me
flinch
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
83
Larry Kimmel
a flow of walnut hair
over an almond pillow
this winter night—
a slow dark river
to drown in
living alone,
living by touch and by faith
“all brightness
remembered brightness”*—somehow
she keeps her home, somehow
years ago
we sat on a stone bench
under a catalpa tree
something she said
not understood till now
in the park
watching the women
come and go
suddenly a shower of maple keys
and I’m dizzy
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
* from: “When I Come”, Robert Francis
84
Larry Kimmel
reading a romance
she lifts crumbs to her mouth
with a wet finger—
perched on a wrought iron table
a sparrow tilts its head to watch
embroidering & embroidering—
over the years
the best of her creativity
spent
on an old affair
lying awake
chewing the cud of an old hurt
as the clock ticks forward—
we waste our lives
in increments
it wasn’t so much
the surprise of her unwrapped body
in daylight
as it was the strange bedroom
that unnerved me
after W.C. Williams [
Arrived
]
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
85
Larry Kimmel
older now
we have our imagination
are allowed
to enjoy
its succulent fruits
the good deed
the kind word
the well wrought poem—
even the best of chess players
can only see ten moves ahead
where the old apple tree stood
winter constellations
without branches to decorate
and the moon,
a piece of home wherever I go
a close look
at the lovely-winged insect
reveals a trait too alien—
don’t ask
to know your idols
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
86
Larry Kimmel
the moth flutters out
of my loose fist
into a drizzly night
something of your voice on the phone
remains in my ear
don’t know why
I expect it—
the winter chickadee
doesn’t thank the hand
that offers seed
this wet spring day
the privets still brown—
it’s been a while, hasn’t it?
you in your new locale
me in my old, once ours
distant memories
no longer 3-dimensional
are flat
are medieval icons on wood
their colors faded
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
87
Deborah P Kolodji
cloudy water
after raccoons bathe
in my backyard pond
red and gold leaves float
where goldfish swam
slow dance
in the glowing light
of the harvest moon—
our hair is gray
as the last leaves fall
telephone pole crow
in the park overlooking
the runway—
your plane taxis out
then you’re both gone
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
88
Gary LeBel
a gleaming lake
and a young boy
slipping into it
seamlessly like a glove
at twilight
crept in with the moon
a life that weighs nothing
this moth I pass
from my cupped hands
to yours
blackbirds
rise weightlessly
on a gust of wind
life being
all they possess
tiger lilies bloom
and already another year
has passed
since they opened their petals
and took you away
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
89
Gary LeBel
a light summer rain
drums faintly
on the rafters
yet great rivers rush through us
that we never hear
the coldness of winter
in this star-woven night
finds us
more than ever
light-years apart
the men who drank whiskey
outside the shipyard gates at dawn
are now the rain
I walk through
in my old hometown
the scent of noon
pours in through the screen door:
in such high summers
Greeks dreamed of so much more
than machines
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
90
Gary LeBel
can it be
that our milk-white souls instead
are swimming
under the half moon
so bright above the lake?
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
91
Jean LeBlanc
Long after sunset,
the sound of skate blades
from the frozen lake.
Remember when darkness
made everything sweeter?
the evening song
of robins,
my father’s favorite—
I close the window against
the familiar rise and fall
on the strip of grass
between driveways
my neighbor’s clogs
cracked walnut husks
empty, empty
on the wooden footbridge
dusted with snow
you lean on my arm
as if I were
the steady one here
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
92
Jean LeBlanc
With my tongue
I form the bristles
into a perfect point.
Distracted by you, my hand
shakes too much to paint.
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
93
J. Andrew Lockhart
ironing my shirt
slowly and clumsily,
thinking
whether I should be buried
in new clothes
earth
tilted back from the sun
denying me warmth—
again and again
you leave me to sleep alone
Chopin etude
at an art exhibition
as background
cold fingers create
their own form of beauty
old gum
found by my fingers
under my chair—
you break my heart
again and again
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
94
J. Andrew Lockhart
the old man
his face holding years
in deep furrows—
we meet, first and last,
in the crowd
at sunset
I hear the bells
at the church
finding myself alone
at your funeral . . . again
the wind blows
beside the river
as always
your voice visits me
from far away
bare ground
partially covered
with yellow leaves—
a coke bottle cap
reminds me of summer
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
95
J. Andrew Lockhart
above me,
falling from pine branches,
brown spent needles
on my unkempt hair—
thinner each winter
listening—
bad news after bad news
on the radio . . .
Amazing Grace bleeds in
from another station
monarch butterflies
disrupt my writing
of tanka—
flying away with them
in my autumn daydream
watching the sky
through your eyes
in a dream—
seeing a cloud
cover half of the moon
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
96
J. Andrew Lockhart
hardwood floor,
cold to the feet
in the morning
facing a day
and a past
my shoes
stacked in the closet
neatly
arranging my future
step by step
this morning,
cooler then the one before,
warns me of the next—
envy fills me toward those
who now write about spring
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
97
Francis Masat
riverbank—
sunlight reflects
off the bottom of a bridge
a fish waits
beside a ruler
the time it took—
to grow
this redwood
to create
the dust of 9/11
she leaves today—
blossoms floating
across a pond
a palm spreads
in all directions
snowy field—
distant trees
a lace filigree
my Father’s footprints
smaller than mine
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
98
Francis Masat
a candle
flickers
out
on a sigh
her last breath
sunset—
alone on the road
I climb the last hill
shadows creep
across my path
surf-side beach—
between two palms
an empty hammock
no cameras allowed
topless volley ball
first thaw—
pebbles appear
beneath a fish’s fins
spreading remains
of winter
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
99
Francis Masat
rainy day—
pelicans in a row
on a gift shop shelf
a Tarot reader deals
for solitaire
fireplace—
the last glow
from Grandpa’s tree
the last crackling sounds
from Grandma’s piano
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
100
Michael McClintock
peaceable men say
“war solves nothing”
one wonders
whose ashes still silt
the rivers of Europe
— first published in
Blithe Spirit
, 2003
out in the garden
the gate’s windy creak
as evening comes on—
easy enough to believe
the dead might love that hour
to remind me
of the way things really are
in this world,
by the house I keep some pots
empty, to catch the rain
filling a bowl
my mother made from river clay,
the season’s first cherries;
I mist them with some water,
so they’ll sparkle a little
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
101
Michael McClintock
my poet friend
becomes a monk again,
changing his name,
moving away—
the same old shit
where do they hurry
at this hour of morning?
white butterflies—
not a shadow beneath them
on the sun-beaten grass
a street with no tree
or flower-box, or green bush—
we live in such places
not knowing we are injured
nor what hardens our hearts
a few rubber bands
to hold up my socks,
I wade the shallows
searching for the shoes I lost
playing Crusoe with the tide
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
102
Michael McClintock
in the kitchen
of the neighbor found dead
this late summer day
weevils are busy
inside the rice jar
dividing pecans
one for you, one for me
out of a basket—
powers and realities
that make unshakeable sense
when you told me the truth
there was that part of yourself
that came with it,
that I then owned,
bright as the day
when alone
on a barge in the harbor
at midnight
I feel like the only
fool on earth
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
103
Michael McClintock
sticking my prettiest stamps
on a letter to a friend
who is far away—
and then, why not,
it gets a kiss, too
selecting tanka
different from those
chosen by a friend:
many are the poems
in a world so big
the moon
looks lumpy tonight . . .
down here in this light
my face must also
seem that way
“thank you
for the talking watch”
my note begins,
a tinny Russian voice
telling me it’s midnight
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
104
Michael McClintock
last night
while we dreamt
the first snow
fell, burying
the land of giants
old Kong
beats his chest
out of clouds
zoom the biplanes
and the sputtering guns
not understanding
all I have heard read
by the great poet
when I ask him for his meaning
he says there is no meaning
stirring snow
that falls in a powder
like ash,
you drive off, life getting smaller
and smaller, until I’m alone
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
105
Michael McClintock
an old photo
of my parents,
young and happy—
of all the things I own,
that is the saddest
— first published in
The Tanka Anthology
, 2003
wanting to go
into my room
and be alone, yet
leaving the door
open a crack
the new calendar
hanging on the office wall
above the gossip:
green pagodas
shrouded in fog
what a thought!
to choose one’s own time and place
to lie down and die—
who’s got patience
that monumental?
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
106
Michael McClintock
sugar cane
lemon grass
green mustard
on this day of winter fog
the comfort of lists
— first published in
Blithe Spirit
, 2005
with a kiss and shove,
the dream I’m waking from
sends me packing . . .
the feel of the ship turning
in a wide arc on the sea
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
107
Annette Mineo
in a black skirt
with one strappy shoe
off the curb
I part traffic on either side
like Moses
after you kiss me
a pebble I drop
into water
sends circles boasting
out out out
the boy on TV
clings muddy to his mother
knee deep
in the hurricane’s wake
as I fold warm dry towels
side by side
we lay in the hammock
looking for blue
between swooshing green leaves
and tales of your ex-wife
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
108
Annette Mineo
last night’s
angry words today drip
furiously
in the noon sun
icicles
in the snow
black coats huddle round
your brother’s casket
as my hand reaches
for what’s left of you
blackbird shakes
beads of white rain
from her wings
into the trash
another rejection
in the mirror
this morning I am missing
a waist line
beneath the magnolia
heaps of soft pink petals
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
109
Annette Mineo
through my shirt
your lips find my nipple
at half-time
the November sky
fills with blackbirds
in the mail
red and white roses
for my daughter
arrive flawless, piteous,
from an ex in Iraq
my son splits cherry
with his father’s axe
and a likeness
I keep to myself
while picking up the pieces
beside me
in the sun of the step
a dragonfly lands
on my grown daughter’s knee
and I miss it
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
110
Annette Mineo
you call late
to say his cancer is back
come morning
the wind hurls acorns
onto my roof
— First published in
empty baskets
, 2006.
beside the boat
the great black humpback
leaps from the sea
and God tugs the roots
of my every hair
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
111
Cristian Mocanu
the doorknob, so cold,
its touch is almost burning!
how much time went by?
after such a long absence
will I find warmth inside?
monotonous bus ride
safety glass windows show me
endless withered fields
should I look the other way?
I’ll fall asleep, all the same . . .
the choosy child
is now eating his porridge
with the rest of us . . .
but after having met you
how can I settle for less?
how to walk on stilts
is an art hard to master:
one must be well taught!
to endure the pains of love
is the one art I can teach
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
112
Cristian Mocanu
street cleaners in Rome
adding the last careful touch
to the Christmas crib
like them, nameless and despised,
let me shine by love alone!
nightly company
faithfully staying with me
only the bed bugs . . .
grateful for the little things
I chat with them leisurely
morning
making tea
this New Year’s Eve
feels like the other days
again . . .
bright red
explosion
in all this grey
full-bloom sasanqua dares
to smile . . .
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
113
Amy Nawrocki
Can old memories
be replaced? Winter white
has faded and out
of the blue ashen darkness—
spring’s pink announcement.
When boats dock
the wide-mouthed sea mourns
as white surf tears
crest and fall with lonely
frequency, sullen and dark.
Rain, go away,
sever your ties to clouds,
break your lullabies
and phantom voice; believe
in the emerald slope of moss.
You slept as the snow,
breather of dreams, let me know
its trick: signal love
with whispered kisses falling
on the bare frame of a face.
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
114
Amy Nawrocki
Breath stumbles,
too fragile to hold the rope
of my life end to end
underwater or through
a prayer’s last gasp.
The crisp scent of fall
approaches, signals the geese,
beckons ceremony.
September savors its own
liturgy: prepare, but bask.
With August gone,
what can September do
except vacillate
between shadows and limestone,
between repetition and drought.
End of the affair:
slow September eases out,
unburdened, open
to the possibility
of seeing you again next year.
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
115
Amy Nawrocki
Cry out, autumn, forge
your voice in clear, scripted twangs.
Near violin’s empathy
is where I’ll find your jaded
harmony—orange and red.
When October finds
its ways into the bubble
of autumn, the specks
of time creep into the fold
of nature’s wayward blossom.
Until the long cuff
of my gray shirt unfolds past
the buttoned safety
of a guarantee, the flesh
stalls at the end of a sigh.
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
116
Pamela Miller Ness
Midwinter dusk:
you practice the flute,
I crochet . . .
would that it could
always be so.
We talk
about faith and death
and middle age
a gentle rumble
of distant thunder.
Midsummer walk
around the willow pond
a stranger’s smile
tells me she too knows
it is enough.
The long hoot
of the evening ferry
leaving shore . . .
all the places
she never saw.
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
117
Pamela Miller Ness
Looking up
the Latin name for
rose-of-Sharon ~
Would I be different
with another name?
A hint of red
in the maple trees
I need
to know of the woman
who saved pills for the end.
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
118
Louis Osofsky
i reach out
for what’s left of you
after chemo,
filtered light
smiling on your easy chair
oak leaves
fallen around my house
not even blue jays
scream their way to see me
. . . the cold has come
deep snow
from the window
smelling cold
a cat on the sill
warms its own shadow
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
119
Jack Prewitt
right now
what might she be doing?
smiling perhaps
her head half-turned
towards somebody’s child
waking
beside you
some place or other
vaguely curious
about its name
a dragonfly
towing its reflection
and shadow—
some days I can’t
believe my good luck
unable to avoid
golden wattle blossoms
strewn
on the wet footpath
my day starts badly
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
120
Jack Prewitt
spring deluge
river banks sinking,
our mountain
flowing to the sea
grain by yellow grain
a broken date—
one by one I feed
sweetmeats
to a stray dog
with emerald eyes
jazz trumpet—
for a moment I pass
to the other side
where god is making
tomorrow’s sunrise
the pills
for each day
separated
into compartments
like tiny coffins
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
121
Kala Ramesh
looking out
of a hospital window
the passing clouds
my heart beats
with a strange optimism
whirling leaves
round up
in circles of thought
as they catapult me
across the seas
he in Rome
and I in London
we talk
of those days
in India
the road we shared
tree under which we kissed
stand
testimony
to a different past
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
122
Kala Ramesh
why try
to fill gaps
with anything at all
won’t silence
do as well?
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
123
Chad Lee Robinson
she says this is
how it ends—
the tick of leaf
upon leaf
on the windshield
I take her
against the jukebox
the beat
of her heart
urging me on
she takes everything
but the book of love poems
I wrote for her—
stones in a dry river bed
exposed to the heat of the sun
my thoughts
come out all wrong—
the windshield wipers
do nothing
but smear the mud
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
124
Natalia L. Rudychev
replacing each other
seasons come and go
under the moon
every step I have taken
leads to your door
just before dawn
nine rosebuds
rest on the pillow
ready to bloom
for each shared year
weeping willow
we’ve passed every day
is sawed down
I can tell by your face
that you miss it
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
125
Adelaide B. Shaw
this country darkness
speaks in many voices,
yet there is a quiet
that slips slowly
into my mind
which face is mine,
the one in the mirror
or in the photo
taken fifty years ago
before life happened?
icy winds
send drafts down the chimney
flaring the fire;
through the years nothing has changed
that spark in your eyes
abandoned college
looming darkly in the rain;
just the wind speaks,
moaning the loneliness
of forgotten knowledge
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
126
Adelaide B. Shaw
he takes my hand
squeezing tightly as he did
when I was five
I fought the restriction
now I let him lead
you come in dreams
ethereal as a spirit,
yet complete;
your return is a comfort
that I, too, may do the same
after daffodils
pear blossoms waiting
to appear;
love comes like spring
all in its own time
doves preening—
again and again the wind
ruffles their feathers;
you massage my shoulders
and I become liquid
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
127
Adelaide B. Shaw
sun and blue sky—
under bare feet the grass
is warm and moist;
if I could package this day
I’d dole it out slowly
the back yard—
street noises and voices fade
from consciousness;
soon, in the mind’s silence,
words begin to bubble
we dance together,
hesitant in our steps,
afraid of wrong moves;
you come closer and I feel
the sureness in your arms
these years together
overflow my memory book,
flooding through seasons;
had you not come, how dry
my life would have been
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
128
Guy Simser
Draped with dank moss
the old pine’s lowest branch
and the tilted tombstone
lean on each other, for now,
in Aoyama Bochi *
* Largest graveyard in Tokyo, circa 1872.
Has this dawn’s tear,
by gently tracing it,
read the fortune
of that oak leaf’s
crinkling life-line?
At my first meeting
with my daughter’s new beau
she nods her head
with everything he says
with everything I say
That brilliant full moon
which only traces by his
bedside window frame
each late spring, greatly
pleases this old man
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
129
Guy Simser
The sound of sensei’s
ink breath on washi and the
cold cicada’s moan:
both on their knees; before what
have I knelt, so faithfully?
That delicate hint
of your perfume, up from
my brown bag lunch
Thank you, too, dear
for the little things
Today, I bought a
little divine Ash box
from the carpenter,
who, refusing my cash, said,
“Believe me, it’s prepaid.”
Time after time
I catch my boy
envying
the length of his
twilight shadow
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
130
Guy Simser
This Morning Glory:
within an hour of so boldly
plucking it
my four-year-old learns
the meaning of “roots”
Watching an old
squirrel hiding tidbits
under detritus
By next spring what more
will I have forgotten?
Today, after your
rejection, I watched
my next best friend piss
on a freshly painted
fire hydrant
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
131
George Swede
Many persons are dying
at this very moment—
these large and slowly-
falling snowflakes are
impossible to count
Words wrongly used
have cost me a friend—
a fat black-and-white cat
lackadaisically chases
some skittering leaves
I think I know
my true feelings
yet doubt lingers
like this dirty snow
by the north-facing wall
So many factors
involved in deciding
the right thing to do—
blowing this way and that
the nation’s flag
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
132
George Swede
After centuries
what could be left in the grave
of this famous man—
sampling the fresh bouquets
a butterfly, a bee
Her deathbed hand
reached out!
Silver lace tendrils
climbing to all points
in the sky . . .
Many bird species
crowding this rock island—
the cacophony
as jarring as the back-home
clash of multi-cultures
I have many reasons
to feel sadness, even grief
yet now all are forgotten—
barely visible by the steps
spring’s first crocus bud
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
133
George Swede
I walk through the park
to a luncheon for a friend
who is leaving . . .
my eyes stray to where someone
has plucked a red rose
Yesterday I thought
my new poem was brilliant
today it seems confused—
the morning sun in a haze
over the marsh reeds
She, who last night
shouted at me, now
in the first light
an angel asleep—
I must have deserved it
I write because
of civilization, yet yearn
to be free of it
(as long as I can return)—
xylophone window icicles
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
134
A. Thiagarajan
my darling,
you throw tantrums
saying I didn’t sulk
for your calling off
the rendezvous tonight
tidying up—
so many angry letters
you never gave me
over twenty years
of our married life
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
135
CarrieAnn Thunell
Cherry blossoms
seem far too delicate
to have been born
in the rains of spring.
But like love, they keep returning.
Ice-moon
wavers in the lake.
How bare
love’s branches have turned.
Let us water our love.
In Japan
the ancient courts revolved
around affairs.
But my skirt enfolds
all the seasons of one man.
Moonrise
above the pitch-pines.
Eddies
of phosphorescence
light high-tide.
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
— first published in
Simply Haiku
, 2006
136
CarrieAnn Thunell
Neon lights
crowd Basho’s mountains.
Stars no longer shine.
No refuge remains
from urban scents and sounds.
Will our love
change its colors
grow dry and brittle
to be blown and crumpled
like autumn leaves?
When the moon
is swathed in cloud kimonos
it’s pilot light
never goes out. Dark lashes
conceal smoldering love.
Moon glow shimmers
in the woodland pond.
Rings expand
around a fallen branch.
His arms encircle me.
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
137
CarrieAnn Thunell
Swallow filled sky
vibrating with birdsong.
The larger part
of me lifts off and soars
with bittersweet longing.
a face
in the subway station—
swallows
swirling all around her
trains come and go
Creatures
furred or finned,
feathered or flowered or fungus,
let us dance
this life as one.
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
— first published in
Ribbons
, 2006
— first published in
red lights
, 2006
138
Kozue Uzawa
in October
snow covered this town—
cold wind blowing
all day, and my face
became a winter face
can I jump into
the pure world
of calligraphy?
I quietly stand with a brush
in front of a white paper
holding my breath
I put a brush on the paper
and keep on writing
nobody can go back
to the starting point in life
slowly
the small rose bud
starts to swell
my life is
not so bad after all
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
139
Kozue Uzawa
a deer
waiting for a chance to cross
at the road side
in this busy evening traffic
stands quietly like a philosopher
faint sound
of flute is coming
like flower petals
in the air . . .
did i really love him?
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
140
Linda Jeannette Ward
Why does she return
to my brambles and weeds?
My old friend
forever remodeling
her home . . .
lightly touching
the inside of her thighs
his fingers
help her to remember
how to tango
cedar-scented mushrooms
erupt from
this storm splintered tree
— how easily it slips off
the self i wore to please you
my feet sinking deeper
into sand that shifts
on this full moon night
I fail to resist
the pull of illicit love
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
141
Linda Jeannette Ward
peepholes peer
into this windowless
hallway . . . somewhere
the summer sound
of a stuck screen door
we string
tiny silver bells
around her deathbed
set a soft fan
to rotate
striated rock
where the glacier flowed
once an avalanche
those dreams and desires
frozen somewhere in time
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
142
Robert D. Wilson
your breasts
rise and fall like
puffer fish in
an aquarium,
anxious for dinner
by the time
i drink my coffee,
it’s cold . . .
a heron stepping
out of its shadow
stay here, moon;
pretend i’m a cloud
you can wear
this evening in a
ballroom stirred with stars
cabin fever . . .
bored out of my mind,
i pluck stars
from the sky and
eat them . . . one by one
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
143
Robert D. Wilson
think of me
tonight, while the wind
stirs the
sky into a broth
seasoned with memory
antsy wind,
pacing behind the
mountain . . .
a bevy of leaves
tossing summer
laughing water . . .
the cacophony
of maids on
the back porch,
swallowing words
like the wind
i slip in through
your keyhole,
uninvited . . .
grasping straws
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
144
Fran Witham
searching for God
on the lowest shelf
i find a book
and read quietly
on my knees
— first published in
Presence
, 2003.
Lying where my father slept
I’m long awake
beside my broken mother
who drifts to sleep
between her sobs.
Provincetown
a sea
of brilliant silk
rustles
at the edge
of the earth
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
145
l
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA – Winter 2006
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T A I G A
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Taiga by Victor P. Gendrano.
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Taiga by Kirsty Karkow.
I won’t succumb
to days of leaden skies
wildflowers bloom
tucked unto yellow braids
of the farmer’s pretty child
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Taiga by Kirsty Karkow.
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Tanka by Michael McClintock.
Art by Karen J. Harlow, 2006.
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Tanka by Michael McClintock.
Art by Karen J. Harlow, 2006.
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Taiga by Natalia L. Rudychev.
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Taiga by Natalia L. Rudychev.
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A R T I C L E S
&
E S S A Y S