Modern English Tanka 4

M ODERN

E NGLISH

T ANKA

i

MET 4

Spring 2007

Volume 1 Number 4

MET 4, Summer 2007

Volume 1 Number 4

Modern English Tanka

ISSN 1932-9083

Denis M. Garrison, Editor

Michael McClintock, Contributing Editor

M ODERN E NGLISH T ANKA P RESS

Baltimore, Maryland.

2007

M ODERN E NGLISH T ANKA P RESS

Post Office Box 43717

Baltimore, Maryland 21236 USA

www.modernenglishtankapress.com

dmgarrison@modernenglishtankapress.com

Modern English Tanka - MET 4, Summer 2007 - Vol. 1, No. 4

Acknowledgments of previous publications are printed at the end of

the journal (p. 234).

form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information

storage and retrieval systems without permission in writing from the

publisher, except by reviewers and scholars who may quote brief

passages. See our E DUCATIONAL U SE N OTICE at the end of the

journal (p. 239).

Modern English Tanka , a quarterly print & digital journal, is

dedicated to publishing and promoting fine English tanka (including

tanka written in cinquain and cinqku set forms). MET is 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, MET publishes articles, essays, reviews, interviews, letters to

the editor, etc., related to tanka.

Modern English Tanka — MET 4, Summer 2007 — Vol. 1, No. 4

Published by M ODERN E NGLISH T ANKA P RESS .

Print Edition: ISSN 1932-9083

Digital Edition: ISSN 1930-8132 www.modernenglishtanka.com

editor@modernenglishtanka.com

C O N T E N T S

Modern English Tanka — MET 4, Summer 2007

Volume 1, Number 4.

9

EDITORIALS

11

Looking Back and Moving Forward by Denis M. Garrison,

editor.

15

Tanka in Collage and Montage Sets: Multivalence, Duende, and

Beyond by Michael McClintock, contributing editor.

29

TANKA

31

a n’ya

32

Aurora Antonovic

34

Pamela A. Babusci

36

David Bacharach

38

Cathy Drinkwater Better

40

Tom Blessing

42

Shawn Bowman

44

Janet Brof

46

James Roderick Burns

48

Janet Lynn Davis

50

Melissa Dixon

52

Marje A. Dyck

54

Jeanne Emrich

57

Margarita Engle

59

Amelia Fielden

65

Bernard Gadd

66

Denis M. Garrison

68

Victor P. Gendrano

70

Beverley George

72

Sanford Goldstein

76

Andrea Grillo

77

Michele Harvey

80

C W Hawes

89

Elizabeth Howard

91

Jamila

92

Kirsty Karkow

94

M. Kei

96

Michael Ketchek

98

Larry Kimmel

101

Kathy Kituai

103

Joseph V. Kleponis

104

Gary LeBel

106

Jean LeBlanc

107

Robert Hill Long

109

Bob Lucky

112

Terra Martin

115

Francis Masat

117

Michael McClintock

122

Annette Mineo

124

Amy Nawrocki

126

Dustin Neal

130

Louis Osofsky

133

Stephen A. Peters

135

Pamela Pignataro

136

Jack Prewitt

139

Patricia Prime

142

Kala Ramesh

144

Lynne Rees

146

Adelaide B. Shaw

150

Guy Simser

152

André Surridge

154

Barbara A. Taylor

156

CarrieAnn Thunell

158

Chuck Tripi

159

Linda Jeannette Ward

161

N. C. Whitehead

162

Robert D. Wilson

165

Fran Witham

167

Peter Yovu

169

ESSAYS & ARTICLES

171

Tanka and Duende by M. Kei.

179

Toward an Aesthetic for English Language Tanka by

CarrieAnn Thunell.

186

Teaching Tanka by Jean LeBlanc. Includes debut tanka

by Amy Feld, Chrissy Vnencak, Beverly Wood, Nicole

195

Mackesy, and Jamie Meny in Five Tanka Debuts .

199

BOOK NOTES & REVIEWS

201

NOTES

201

Heron Sea : Short Poems of the Chesapeake by M. Kei. Book

Note. Review of debut reading by Abigail Greene.

206

These Audacious Maples by Paul O. Williams. Book

Note.

209

The Poetics of Motoori Norinaga: A Hermeneutical Journey ,

translated and edited by Michael F. Marra. Book

Note.

211

shorelines: haiku, haibun, and tanka by Kirsty Karkow.

Book Note.

212

REVIEWS

212

The Salesman’s Shoes : Tanka by James Roderick Burns.

Book review by M. Kei.

216

Baubles, Bangles & Beads : Threaded Tanka by Amelia

Fielden. Book review by Denis M. Garrison.

223

Contributors

234

Acknowledgements

235

Tanka Venues, with abbreviations

239

Educational Use Notice

240

Corrigenda

241

Advertisements

9

E D I T O R I A L S

10

11

Looking Back and Moving Forward

With this issue, the first volume of Modern English Tanka is

complete. In our first year, we have produced four issues on

time and crammed full of poetry, articles, book notes and

reviews, and other features especially for those who read, write,

and love tanka. Each issue includes over 500 poems. Volume 1

has a total of 2,152 poems, by our count, in its 1,016 pages. The

poems were submitted by 109 poets, 25 of whom appear in all

four issues.

We believe it is fair to say that MET has published in its first

year a representative group of the poets, all over the world, who

are writing tanka in English. In addition to many poets from all

over the United States, Canada, and Australia, poets in MET

hail from England, India, Japan, Netherlands, New Zealand, the

Philippines, Romania, Scotland, South Africa, and Thailand. It

should go without stating (but one must) that the success of

MET is entirely because of the tremendous and excellent

submissions from poets all around the globe. We thank them all

for their many contributions—it is they who make MET what

it is.

In terms of circulation, the print edition is a modest success; we

count each issue’s sales in dozens. The digital editions have

received about 90,000 page requests. As far as we can interpret

the statistics furnished by the hosting company, there appear to

be a few thousand regular readers. As another measurement,

there are about 600 websites that include links to Modern English

Tanka .

It was a most pleasant surprise to learn that the digital edition

of MET has been used in the college classroom as a resource

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

12

for teaching tanka. The great trove of fine tanka now online in

Modern English Tanka furnishes educators with a unique and free

resource for teaching.

MET has taken positive steps to enhance tanka education. We

published an Educational Use Notice that emphasizes “our

intention and our policy to facilitate the use of Modern English

Tanka and related materials to the maximum extent feasible by

educators at every level of school and university studies.” Now,

at the digital edition website of Modern English Tanka [at

www.modernenglishtanka.com/resources/] we have set up a

webpage: “Tanka Resources for Students, Educators, and

Scholars” at which we are posting resources as they are

developed. Included there, so far, are :

•

Recommended Readings in Tanka Studies includes

several lists: “Read These First,” “Keep Up with

These,” and both anthology and critical scholarship lists

for tanka in English, modern Japanese tanka, and early

Japanese tanka. This set of lists was contributed to by

members of the online tanka discussion list, Tanka

Roundtable [http://groups.google.com/group/tanka

roundtable].

•

Bibliography of Books Containing Tanka in

English version 1.6.1 - Compiled by M. Kei,

2006-2007, revised 2 May 2007. This is the most

comprehensive and up-to-date bibliography of tanka in

English that we have seen. We appreciate M. Kei’s

generosity in permitting its use.

•

Tanka Venues is a list of venues for publication of

tanka in English with standard abbreviations approved

by the Tanka Society of America. Use of standard

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

13

abbreviations for publications and anthologies will

facilitate citations and bibliographic entries.

Modern English Tanka is making these resources available

through Creative Commons Licenses to minimize the burden

of seeking copyright permissions for students, educators, and

scholars. We hope to develop more such resources in the

coming months and to publish them in both print and digital

books. We are always open to suggestions in these respects and

to offers of resources for such use.

Realizing that events occur in the tanka community more

rapidly than a quarterly can report upon in a timely fashion, we

have established www.TankaNews.com as an instant news

outlet for tanka news, calls for submissions, deadlines,

announcements of new books, journals, etc., passings and

milestones, and so forth. Anyone can go to www.TankaNews

and subscribe to the news, i.e., have it sent to your email

address. Likewise, feel free to email us at metankapress@yahoo.

com and share press releases, book announcements, etc..

Special mention must be made of MET’s aptly-titled

contributing editor, Michael McClintock. In his own right, an

éminence grise of tanka in English, as well as being the President

of the Tanka Society of America, Michael contributes to Modern

English Tanka in many ways, beyond the excellent editorials and

book notes. His always sage advice has been of immeasurable

value, not to mention his encouragement and ideas. In this first

year of association, the editors have found a tremendous span

and depth of agreement on both tanka-specific and general

poetic matters. On the other hand, we have had strongly

opposed views on some matters, which has been an important

contribution also. The creative dialectic that arises out of

opposing views that are examined in depth with mutual respect

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

14

and trust is a fount of new ideas and concepts, from which we

both gain in understanding tanka in the broadest view. It is an

honor and a privilege to work with Michael.

Going back through and re-reading this first volume, one can

see that we have been true to our original purpose: to publish

the full panoply of tanka in English without trying to impose a

definition upon the genre. We have tanka of every length, from

the haiku-length to the full 31 English syllables. We have tanka

that treat the classical subjects and tanka that break new ground

in content. We have the rapturous lines of ecstatic poets and the

dirt-plain lines of realists, and everything in between. But,

please, please, don’t think that we believe we have accomplished

what we set out to do. No! What we have accomplished, we

hope, is a good start! We are already making plans for Volume

2, with a new cover design, a new web design, and the same

openness to all kinds of tanka. As always, all we ask is: Send us

your best!

Grateful for a fine first year,

Denis M. Garrison, editor

May 17, 2007.

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

15

Tanka in Collage and Montage Sets:

Multivalence, Duende , and Beyond

“The great artist is the simplifier. Music is harmony,

harmony is perfection, perfection is our dream,

and our dream is heaven.”

— Henri-Frédéric Amiel, Journal Intime

Have you ever noticed how some tanka, written by the same

poet, seem to want to combine with other tanka that appear on

the page, or in a collection, and become something more than

the individual poems they are? This is how tanka collage and

montage begin.

Demonstration is far easier than explanation. For example,

consider how these three tanka, from Kala Ramesh’s work in

the current issue, create a whole that, if not greater than the

individual tanka in any absolute sense, is yet a different poem:

the skylark

scales the deep valley

scattering notes that linger

in every blade of grass

and the buzzing bees

our bodies, for what

seemed an eternity

became the love song

of the shepherd, seeking

the idyllic union

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

16

she wears

silk saris with grace

bound into a cocoon

should the silk worm be burnt

alive for that?

— Kala Ramesh

These three tanka fuse together, in sense and meaning, as a

single poem having layered meanings and substance.

Individually, these are very fine tanka, powerful and evocative.

In proximity, there is an accrual of expressive force, and an

expanded dimension that is the result of layering personal lyric

with social and political statement embedded in vivid imagery.

Consider also these two pairs, the first pair taken from the

poems by Pamela A. Babusci, and the second pair from the

poems by Jim Doss, appearing in Modern English Tanka #3 :

my heart’s

deepest wounds

are hidden

in the womb

of my unborn child

beyond

our spiral galaxy

a billion others . . .

the sound of

falling snow

— Pamela A. Babusci

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

17

The clasp breaks

and the beads spill

across the floor—

my whole life a ritual

of gathering what others have lost.

Over my face

someone else’s face

stretched like a mask,

aging as I remain

the same.

— Jim Doss

What is going on here? I think they are examples of what Denis

M. Garrison called “multivalency” in his essay, “Dreaming

Room” [1]. For the past year we have talked of little else, and

have struggled to create a simple vocabulary that would be

useful in describing these compound structures.

Multivalency is a key term and concept, and is derived from

“valence,” which Garrison explains as a term “used in biology

to refer to the forces of reaction and interaction, and is used in

chemistry to refer to the properties of atoms by which they have

the power of combination.” As used by Garrison, the term

“multivalency” refers to “the property of words to react to one

another, interact with one another, to be fungible and

suggestive. A multivalent tanka is one with dreaming room.” To

this vital kernal of thought I would add this extrapolation: I

think the presence of this property of “multivalency” is what

gives a tanka the power to combine with other tanka, or with

other short forms, to form larger structures that create a

compound literature of expanded poetic experience—e.g., the

tanka collage, and the tanka montage. Secondarily, I think that

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

18

this property of multivalence both attracts and repels. Tanka

having similar multivalent values attract; tanka having dissimilar

or dissonant multivalent values repel one another and defy

interlocking together to make an effective aesthetic whole.

How do we measure or assess a poem’s multivalence? How is

multivalence registered? The properties of a poem’s special

multivalence are found in the kind and quality of its imagery, in

the tone of its language and phrasing, in the poem’s allusions

and the associations of its implied or directly stated emotions

and ideas. A poem’s implied and ambiguous contents are also

numbered among its multivalent properties. Poems having

complementary properties of multivalence will be attracted to,

or gravitate toward, one another; poems with differing

multivalent properties will tend to repel, or will be dissonant,

when placed or arranged together. A tanka’s multivalent

properties are its fingerprint, as well as its potential to link or

combine satisfactorily with other tanka or forms. Poems having

different multivalent properties do not link well, or at all. Just

try putting a tanka by Beverley George with one by Robert D.

Wilson. Except in very rare cases (I have not found one), they

will not combine!

We can see this magnetic, attractor-dynamic of multivalence at

work in recent collections. I will briefly discuss just four, each

of which has been noted and highly praised by critics for its

coherence.

Drops from Her Umbrella by Laura Maffei (Inkling, 2006) is a

collection of 131 tanka arranged in five separately titled

montage sets: “Office Job”, “Infant Batman”, “One Leg

Unshaved”, “Chalk Dust”, and “Summer of Nipples”. In the

Afterword to the book, I wrote:

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

19

“Easily read in one sitting, the one hundred and thirty-

one poems of Drops from Her Umbrella encompass the

small events and daily routines of several years,

providing as complete and textured a portrait of the

author’s life as might be found in a prose autobiography

of as many pages. While each poem stands alone as a

unitary, aesthetic whole, as do all tanka, so carefully has

the poet placed them in their sequence that each

grouping becomes a chapter that is fundamental to the

forward movement and cumulative effect of a larger,

single narrative.”

In this book, the multivalent properties consist of all the objects

and routines of a working woman’s life in New York City: diet

books and bug spray, apartments and snaking traffic, single

packets of Caesar salad dressing, malls and fridges. These, and

the unforgettable “infant Batman”, are the fingerprints of time

and place that bind the poems into a single, sustained montage.

Similarly, Andrew Riutta’s chapbook, The Pie in Pieces (River Man

Publishing, 2006), is a tanka montage in which the 33 poems

have complementary multivalencies that are drawn from the

rural and small-town Michigan setting, as well as from blue-

collar life, work, values, and the objects and imagery associated

with these.

Still another example where locale plays a large role in providing

multivalent cohesion and connection is Kirsty Karkow’s water

poems (Black Cat, 2005). This collection may be understood as

a tanka collage, made up of tanka, haiku, and sijo. It reads so

well in its parts, and as a whole, because the poems in it have

complementary properties of multivalence that are derived from

and consistently expressed in the imagery, emotions, and ideas

associated with the setting of coastal waters, coastal landscapes,

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

20

and the ocean. Like Riutta’s The Pie in Pieces , water poems is

similarly rich in regional character, flavor, and language. A

student of Asian poetic forms, Karkow has made the haiku and

tanka of Japan, and the ancient Korean sijo, her own. Affording

good company to the crisp haiku are the reflective voice of the

five-line tanka and the three long lines of the singing sijo. So

arrayed, the result is a sustained, vivid meditation on the coastal

sea, the great ocean, the environs of estuary and river, variously

modulated to convey the moment in its precise values of tone,

color, and conscious awareness. These are simple poems having

deep love in their linguistic chemistry of sun, salt and spray.

A final example from recent collections is Robert D. Wilson’s

Tanka Fields (White Egret, 2006). In this tanka montage of 88

poems, the chief properties of multivalence are in the dream-

state quality of the poems’ imagery, the frequently distorted

syntax, and the persistent repetition of inter-weaving, inter-

changing images, objects, and patterns. Wilson’s vocabulary is

that of shadow, moonlight, water-image, and restless

loneliness—the book is a tour de force in the duende of

melancholy, the chief tonal ingredient or property of the

collection’s overall multivalence.

Multivalency is a way of describing why (and perhaps how)

tanka and other short poems are integrated into new, coherent,

interactive patterns that break free of the conventional stanzaic

forms of longer narrative, epic, and lyrical verse. Compositions

or arrangements of two or more tanka appear to be literary

forms of collage and montage, and very different from the

linear progression, internal logic, or somewhat artificial or

arbitrary “linking” mechanisms that are typical of the “tanka

sequence.” These structures may be defined simply:

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

21

Tanka collage : an assemblage of tanka with other

short forms (haiku, senryu, cinquain, sijo, etc.)

composed as a set and intended as an aesthetic whole.

In tanka collage, the tanka form is numerically dominant

in its number of lines.

Tanka montage : two or more tanka composed or

arranged as a set, intended as an aesthetic whole.

Usually, these sets are given a title.

To the examples of tanka montage cited above, we will add

these two examples of tanka collage (tanka in combination with

other short forms, e.g. haiku). The first is from a long string of

alternating haiku and tanka by Robert D. Wilson (heretofore

unpublished), a prolific writer of both tanka collage and

montage sets:

inside the

raccoon’s eye, crayfish

praying to god

if you still

lived in the shell we

call a body,

water would weave

its song between moons

i gave up, cricket . . .

the moon’ll kiss me

before she does!

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

22

sing to me

water, like you did

inside of

mother’s womb . . .

dancing fingers

— Robert D. Wilson

This short piece is an example of tanka collage taken from the

anthology, The Five-Hole Flute (Modern English Tanka Press,

2006):

Trilling Robins

four lines deep

into the first poem

of the day—I pause

airing my white whiskers

in the morning coolness

trilling robins—

out of low, rolling cloud

the ball of the sun

just over

the ridge

that world

that goes on

forever

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

23

not green itself

but a hint of it—

the slanting spring light

— Michael MClintock

Tanka collage and tanka montage have the appearance of

stanzaic verse in the Western tradition, and share similar

dynamics. The chief difference, however, is that each tanka and

other short form in the collage, and each tanka in the montage,

is an autonomous, complete, and whole poem in itself,

independent of the context of the other poems but contributing

to them, and conveying with them, an expanded poetic

experience.

Another example of tanka montage is found in this set by Gary

LeBel, appearing in Modern English Tanka #3 :

in the child’s hair

and winter woolens,

how much sweeter

could it be,

the scent of an acre?

having gathered

in a circle,

crickets’ long feelers

each shyly touch

those of the dying

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

24

like splendid arrows

aimed at earth’s center,

cormorants dive

into the thick brown slurry

of the tainted river

into these same rosy skies

whose warm ocean breezes

swept the eyelids

of Homer,

stars melt

the sounds

of leaves crushed underfoot:

what did Rilke mean by

‘those who have no home

never will’?

— Gary LeBel

This is a small masterpiece of Impressionist tanka montage. The

group appeared in Modern English Tanka #3 , just as it does here.

Larger than the other sets cited immediately before it, this group

of five tanka has the footprint and authority of a five-stanza

poem in the more traditional Western style. The five tanka, each

independent and whole as poems, do not behave in quite the

same manner as traditional stanzaic verse: the progression is not

linear or, even, especially logical. There is no “argument” being

developed, stanza-to-stanza, but rather a cumulative, complex

impression that is created by poems that share complementary,

harmonious multivalencies. They attract and bond to one

another because of closely-related imagery, associations, and

multivalent values. As in the poems by Ramesh, the effect is a

layering of personal with symbolic, metaphorical, and archetypal

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

25

meaning.

Multivalency, collage, montage: these concepts have as much to

do with the experience of tanka in compound structures as they

have with the technique involved in making these structures.

Art is always more than technique, but involves a special kind

of vision that, in poetry, transfers from the heart and soul of the

poet to the page and from the page directly to the reader in

meanings that are real but ineffable, solid but defiant of

paraphrase or adequate exegesis.

These compound and extended structures have what Federico

Garcia Lorca and others called “duende.” [2] And I think some

essential aspect or ingredient of duende may be very close to the

heart of that thing we call “tanka spirit” and what we mean

when we speak of the high art of the short lyric—unmistakable

when experienced, but difficult or even impossible to describe,

explain, or reduce to any kind of mechanical understanding

rooted in “technique.” Technique has to do with the outer

garments or scaffolding of tanka, and of poetry generally.

Analysis of a poem’s words and how they relate one to another

can reveal something about technique, but technique is not

where or how the poetry happens or is experienced.

One effect of multivalency is a sense of duende, and this set by

LeBel is enfused with duende. Duende is a concept about the

creative impulse and the artistic imagination: the source of

artistic inspiration, the mystical fuel behind the art. It is not a

technique at all; it transcends technique and, in fact, may not

even be a concept so much as a category of aesthetic intuition

and existential authenticity—to be encountered by the reader

for direct interaction.

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

26

A similarly powerful montage group appears in the work by

Annette Mineo, also in Modern English Tanka #3 :

after two days

of steady earth-pounding rain

May in her glory

upon the world opens

her grand green dam

all my youth

both disappears

and reappears

in her smooth flawless face

her wide shining eyes

the lilacs

are blooming purple bells

in the rain

yes for one more day

I will strive

— Annette Mineo

Riffs of tanka montage appear especially in the work of Tom

Clausen, Cherie Hunter Day, Jeanne Emrich, Margarita Engle,

Denis M. Garrison, Beverley George, Larry Kimmel, and Carol

Raisfeld in Modern English Tanka #3. In the same issue, we have

the titled pieces of fully-realized tanka montage in Robert D.

Wilson’s “the zen of closed eyes,” Sanford Goldstein’s “the face

before / the face after: a tanka cluster,” and Robert Hill Long’s

extraordinary reflection on Keats, Shelley, and the life and fame

of poets, in “Dear John.”

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

27

A number of compound, extended works illustrating the

integration of autonomous short poems into new, coherent,

interactive patterns that break free of the conventional stanzaic

forms, were brought together recently in The Five-Hole Flute [3]

The anthology provides an overview of modern tanka, cinquain,

and haiku, and the changing shape and power of these forms

when arranged in sets and sequences. Examples of tanka collage

and montage are present, as well as examples of anaphora,

thematic linking, and antiphonal response. Among its selections,

the book includes the complete Limbs of the Gingko by Pamela

Miller Ness, a highly structured tanka montage in four parts,

written over a period of six years. Ness describes the work as “a

sequence of tanka” that “details two journeys: my father’s

journey into Alzheimer’s disease and my journey as daughter,

caregiver, and translator of our experience into words.”

More directly tied to what has been discussed here are the

compositions found in The Dreaming Room .[4] Intended as a

companion volume to The Five-Hole Flute , The Dreaming Room

brings together three dozen tanka collage and montage sets—in

relative lengths of short, medium and long. The anthology

provides carefully selected samples of works that are theme-

driven, autobiographical, imaginative, and of pure, sensual,

Impressionist imagery.

In these structures, the basic brick is the single tanka poem—an

aesthetic, unitary, complete whole. However, given the right

multivalent properties, a tanka may be combined with other

tanka or short forms (haiku, senryu, cinquain, sijo, etc.) having

similar multivalent values and properties, to create tanka collage

and montage sets that seem to open new dimensions for

exploring and expressing the many layers of human experience,

thought, and emotion, while at the same time re-approaching

the traditional stanzaic verse of the West. In English and

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

28

American literature, the high art of the short lyric has seldom

been more evident.

This, too, seems evident: Literary studies have a healthy

resistance to new terms and the general jargon of ideas. A stable

vocabulary provides structure, continuity, and a common

language within what is often a wildly fluid environment of

waves, spray, and foam. The critical vocabulary of the West

began with Aristotle’s Poetics and has been stingy of additions

ever since, even while accruing to itself two millennia of

experience in critical analysis and the discovery of principles by

which each kind of literature may be understood. At the same

time, the disciplines of Western critical thought regarding

literature appear to be almost gleefully willing to consider (if

only that) the content of ever-changing directions and

approaches. I am grateful for both traditions, and have made

use of both in this discussion of English-language tanka in

collage and montage sets.

— Michael McClintock, contributing editor

____________________

End Notes:

1. “Dreaming Room” [editorial] by Denis M. Garrison, MET #3, Spring

2007.

2. For an extended discussion of duende , see The Demon and the Angel: Searching

for the Source of Artistic Inspiration by Edward Hirsch (Harcourt, 2002). Lorca’s

own take on duende can be found online in his essay, “Theory and Play of

the Duende.”

3. The Five-Hole Flute: Modern English Tanka in Sequences and Sets, edited by

Denis M. Garrison and Michael McClintock, Modern English Tanka Press,

2006.

4. The Dreaming Room: Tanka in Collage and Montage Sets , edited by Michael

McClintock and Denis M. Garrison, Modern English Tanka Press, May 2007.

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

29

T A N K A

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

30

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

31

a n’ya

if this life

is as clouded as a mirror

with fine dust

how will we find ourselves

in a world full of mirrors?

how hairy!

I married the man who once

said I’ve never met

the spider I’m afraid of—

this lover of crawly things

summer flowers

from buds that opened right

before my eyes

friendships which might too blossom

take a longer look inside

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

32

Aurora Antonovic

with pen and ink

I capture his likeness

seaside

he turns in wonder,

how did you know, how did you know?

homesick

in this large city

far from home

the smell of smoke

in my smoke-free room

riverside

wind rustles through

the poplar’s leaves . . .

this restless feeling that

comes and goes without warning

one year

after his stroke, I’ve finally begun

to write about him

but only his death, his life

too large to capture on paper

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

33

Aurora Antonovic

at the coffee shop

he hands me the poem

he has written for me—

the cloying taste

of hot chocolate too-sweet

my life

like this gnarled old scarf

if only

I could go back to undo

mistakes this easily

bickering during breakfast

he pauses to lick

mango juice

from my

fingers

the last summer

with my mother

we picked strawberries

to this day

they never taste as sweet

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

34

Pamela A. Babusci

no regrets

for loving him

too much

i stare at the

rain-soaked moon

breathing in

dew from

chrysanthemums

still empty

after lovemaking

i am suspended

like a dewdrop

mid-air

in mid-life

with unsatisfied desires

after giving myself

completely

to him

i change into

my scarlet robe

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

35

Pamela A. Babusci

i empty

my pocket prayers

on the dresser

put on red lipstick

for my phantom lover

another waiting game

with a new lover

surely his heart

has turned

to stone

you already possess

these vermilion lips

what more do you need

what more do you want

my foolish lover?

spring melancholy

summer melancholy

is one more painful

as i lie still in my

motel room?

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

36

David Bacharach

the hills won’t last

one day I’ll look up

and they’ll be gone

worn away

by my own desires

when I was young

I saw visions

now I am old

and dream

of ordinary things

my old boat

in the back field

falls apart

little by little—

another birthday

once again

I carry the casket

of a friend

judging by its weight

no money was spared

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

37

David Bacharach

so worried

the time I chopped off

a chicken’s head—

how easily

the axe came down

coyotes cry

a claim to this world’s

fat rabbits

as the Big Dipper pours

night into the sky

a gut shot deer

comes quietly to rest

in my orchard

one last stubborn apple

hangs in the tree above

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

38

Cathy Drinkwater Better

Sunday morning call

“I have breast cancer”

the clock’s steady tick

steady tick

tick

winter wind—

out of nowhere I remember

your knee on my throat

the screams

of the children

blue sky

and a tangle of branches

lined with buds

the sound of snowmelt

baptizes me all over again

so cold

these early spring nights—

I saw you in a dream

hazy, your outstretched fingertips

mere inches from my own

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

39

Cathy Drinkwater Better

early spring—

that old record of bird calls

I loved as a child

now had I a way of playing it

I could put a name to each song

another spring

and still at war—

nearby

the shooting range unleashes

a barrage of birdsong

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

40

Tom Blessing

all night i wait for the phone

or the sound of your car

but the night is silent

the dogs restless

as they pace by the door

returning

i find the bones of love

here beneath

the deep roots

of the pine

beyond the snow

covered mine pile

blue sky and

the distant voices

of children

paint dries

on the canvas

as the model

bends to retrieve

her blue robe

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

41

Tom Blessing

you wear

a dress of wind

beneath

the summer

moon

i long

for those nights

when the tide

rushes through

soft reeds

along the beach

the cobble groans beneath

my heavy steps

perhaps around the next point

i will find delight

in the closet

the scarlet dress

is empty

my life

without you

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

42

Shawn Bowman

the sound of laughter

my family’s laughter

in the next room—

I know this

so well

I think I

could be a hero

and as I think it

the dog has

stolen my sandwich

they have no idea

what I do with my pen,

my cats spend

a good portion of life

staring at blanks in the walls

it would be a good job,

waiting for the exam

my joy is tempered

by the old-timer

starting out again

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

43

Shawn Bowman

in her granddaughter

she sees her grandmother,

the thread

running through the seam

is seamless

I read

(stream beneath a footbridge

a path through firs and oak

a mile from the city)

the meter

only twenty miles

from you

but the drive

makes me wonder

what if our inventions fail

this is no allegory

to make us feel better

about ourselves,

she cries inside a house

of tormented beauty

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

44

Janet Brof

all the while

tsunamis of tragedy

have been breaking around us—

running through its repertoire

spring’s intricate orchestra

saturdays

by the bus depot thin men

unshaven propped on a wall

await the big black car

its cargo restaurant leavings

tenement window sill

her pretend piano

small girlchild

joins her boozy papa

on his fierce harmonica

you tutor writing

what program do you use

asks the counselor—

how to speak of in one word

the elements of love

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

45

Janet Brof

above the roistering

motorcycle parade

rooftop wisteria

casts shadows on stone

delicate as arabic script

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

46

James Roderick Burns

All my hopes and dreams—

vintage motorcyclist

adjusts his goggles

and snaps off a brisk salute,

disappears behind a truck.

Two crows wrestling

over a red bulb of meat—

in the passing lane

I notice one is dead, wings

covering the victor’s beak.

This febrile journey—

coal wagons thumping along

in cold coupling,

the image of a butler

winking in a seaside booth.

On seventeen twists

of crumbling elastic

and a balsa frame

split to the heart, this prayer

stumbles up through the treetops.

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

47

James Roderick Burns

I’d write a poem

about that queen of hearts, lodged

in the old lady’s

scraggly hedge, but no one

would believe I had seen it.

Having decided

to lop off these hellbound legs

I still feel the pull

of warm tarmac, Cerberus

refusing to walk at heel.

Smiling at colleagues

I begin a new chapter

(Prevarication:

nature/nurture? ), dot the ‘i’s

on one more skull and crossbones.

Ah, Dakota Bar—

ice melting in a plain glass

while the signwriter

leans down, lights a cigarette

for the man with plywood boards.

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

48

Janet Lynn Davis

into steaming tea

I release curls

of fresh ginger . . .

once in a while, my life

borders on exotic

how deftly

you maneuver the chopsticks;

with fork in hand

I study your routine

as if you were a gymnast

with such calm

you speak of the mass,

the MRI—

but will this look inside him

alter your view of the world?

unaccustomed

to change, but soon,

even the intermingling

shadows of trees

will be parted

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

49

Janet Lynn Davis

my passion

for the written word

rolls in, rolls out. . .

the uncertainty

that June thunderstorms pose

my houseplants

wither from neglect—

the poppies, though,

are bountiful these days

in southern Afghanistan

you go inside

when the insects come out

this country night

the peace too loud

for your city ears

strolling alone

on this platinum beach

my whole life

strung before me, behind me

in beads of silica

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

50

Melissa Dixon

summer reunion—

in my grown son’s arms

I move once more

to the great jazz rhythms

that I used to love

alzheimer’s ward—

my older sister’s eyes light up

she calls me

by the childhood name

I long ago left behind

a flowering shrub

I donated years ago, pushes

against the fence—

which will last longest

the fence, the shrub—or me?

when I die

please may I reincarnate

on a different star?

maybe a peaceful ‘Planet Three’?

get back to me on this . . .

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

51

Melissa Dixon

plum blossoms

bending low over the fence—

is the earth warm

beneath you . . . if I lie down

will you cover me with petals?

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

52

Marje A. Dyck

overlooking

the waterfall

a delicately spotted orchid

lately I miss

kindness

roar of the city

my ears ache

for the silence

of country

birdcalls in a meadow

down by the river

miniature sand dunes

imperceptibly shifting

all day long

this vagabond wind

rocky island in the sun

once teeming with birds

now in this

chill wind

not a wingbeat

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

53

Marje A. Dyck

after the argument

flowers in the conservatory

speak only

fragrance and

harmony

a piece of the moon

is missing tonight

how empty the sound

my key turning

in the lock

saxophone

at sunset

I trace the sunlit curve

of your shoulder

in my mind

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

54

Jeanne Emrich

A Disappearing River

though I saw

my parents ride

a disappearing river

I still stand on the bank

in disbelief

he was unshaven

she in a borrowed nightgown

how strange

to be haunted by

the trivia of dying

the years spin

as in a particle separator

my feelings

for my parents detach

from their names

driving by

my childhood home—

yet another family

has moved into

my earliest memories

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

55

Jeanne Emrich

a random light

in the bedroom mirror

startles me

out of myself

I could be anyone

i

Bougainvillea at Sunset

lacking a pen

I wandered East Africa

for another—

a Masai spear, or a bone

that once struck a drum

morning unfolded

its golden limbs

in the tall grasses—

Ngorongoro Crater lay

ringed with teeth

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

56

Jeanne Emrich

I followed a rhinoceros

across the Serengeti plain—

do this yourself

if you would purchase

loneliness by the mile

the bright stain

of pink flamingoes

flung skyward—

to witness this miracle,

I ate my share of mud

I made acquaintance

with a Tanzanian fly

whose sticky legs told me:

the fallen buffalo doesn’t care

what crawls into its belly

friends, beware

of where you stand

in the Great Rift Valley—

the bougainvillea at sunset

is darkest blood

i

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

57

Margarita Engle

on a day

of old arguments

the distant rain

is a silk veil

above high mountains

rusty gate

on both sides

dry pasture

and the gold light

of wind

Sunday morning

in a mountain meadow

walking

feels like a new

form of prayer

flying low

above the rodeo parade

wild geese

in formation

turn toward high mountains

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

58

Margarita Engle

ship

in a bottle

my life

indoors

a memory of wind

living will

let my voice

become

ashes

of birdsong

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

59

Amelia Fielden

in your place

iris messengers

deep purple

alone not alone

one more Mother’s Day

slabs of snow

on blue-black mountain slopes

an eagle

dropping among the crags

the end of another life

warm and heavy

on my lap a spaniel

snores lightly,

closed blinds confirming

we’ve finished with today

a grey cloud

of galahs whirrs up

from the dunes

pink breasts blending

into the dusky air

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

60

Amelia Fielden

ashamed

not to be happier

at his news, I feel

uncomplicated delight

in the dew on long grass

in the photo

she’s looking away

to the distance,

yet his arm round her waist

is keeping her close

when I am

emotionally adrift

I reach for

the rock of tanka,

write myself steady

‘with all my love’

he inscribed a book

for my birthday—

what then did he give

to the girl he married

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

61

Amelia Fielden

running in sand

two guys pass each other

as determined

on opposite directions

as we are these days

sounds of the sea

waving from the aircon

lull me to sleep

in my hospital bunk

a long way inland

overseas call

extended by longing

as always

leaving too much unsaid

we say our goodbyes

more brilliant

than my own jewelry

morning raindrops

hung on a callistemon—

what else have I missed ?

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

62

Amelia Fielden

no more ‘what if’

in these mellow years

of ‘what is’

I’ve grown dependent

on the consolation of birds

dark morning

one bird singing as if

it weren’t winter,

as if all were well

with this world of ours

your shining face

looking back at me

from the shoreline

a bright memory—

it will fade, it will fade

ours is the age

of suicide bombers

ours is the age

of suicide bombers—

such repetitive despair

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

63

Amelia Fielden

living-room

redolent with freesias

and sunshine,

lives shadowed by things

beyond our control

from all my bulbs

only one hyacinth blooms—

statistics

don’t explain my family

situation, either

outside the wind

roaring and rattling

Mariko stands

in an eye of stillness

giving life to her tanka

entwined

with jasmine flowers

the mimosa

is blooming again—

grandchildren, if only . . .

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

64

Amelia Fielden

ferries glide

in and out of the quay—

forty-five years

a flicker of light

in the sliding shadows

one small white duck

facing into the wind

treading water

against the lake’s roughness

where shall I get my strength

in my arms

our sick baby daughter

watching you

walk away while snow fell

like an old black and white movie

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

65

Bernard Gadd

a calendar

of wedding photos

twelve months of your eyes

looking aside

from me

my windows don’t show sea

always sliding in,

but hedge and birch rooted

in lawn, their changes

reliably slow

the fan you sent

is hard to open

the calligraphy baffles

its box is beautiful . . .

everything hints ‘wait’

you sit naked

staring through curtains at waves

waiting to be left

with your pen, your pad

far from us minutes ago

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

66

Denis M. Garrison

for a moment

a jumbo jet taking off

almost

drowns out your tirade—

‘Say again, my darling?’

TV coverage

grim tragedies in ‘high def’

we use up power,

kleenex, ‘anytime minutes’—

omigod, the helplessness . . .

forty years

are not time enough

to forget

the shouts of “incoming”—

waking to my own raw voice

in my dreams

Dad does chores with me

we work and laugh,

work and talk . . . but never

once about the nursing home

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

67

Denis M. Garrison

the brilliance of a

Susquehanna afternoon

with blinding glitter

the falling sun scatters sparks

across these rocky shallows

raspberry patch

laced with honeysuckle

don’t mind the thorns

no taste is half so sweet

as that of hard-won fruit

more than folk wisdom:

‘every bride is beautiful’

ah! her rolling curves

arrayed in snowy blossoms—

these fragrant apple orchards

Maryland summer

life inside the emerald

sun-glare or moon-glow,

jewel tones or minty pastels,

the green is endless . . . endless

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

68

Victor P. Gendrano

buds burst

in the leafless tree

this early spring

the widower’s love

reawakens

dining alone

their guitar music wafts

in the crowded place

where last year

they bid farewell

cloudy sky

he gazes at her plane

with longing eyes

suddenly he remembers

what he forgot to tell her

her wheelchair gathers dust

in the garage corner

now in its third year

I still can’t bear to sell

or throw it away

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

69

Victor P. Gendrano

her make-believe love

holds me hostage

a little bit longer

the last leaf falls

in the brisk wind

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

70

Beverley George

mist rising from reeds

in the Sculpture Garden

you take my hand

and I grow afraid

we may draw close again

In April I travelled in Japan with friends.

how you come and go

my Tokyo poet friend

only four weeks past

the haori you are wearing

warmed a cherry blossom night

my child’s house—

paintings, rugs and china

fragments

from our family home

more poignant to me here

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

71

Beverley George

why do you ask

such questions about me

do you wish

to flatter me, or

plan my obituary?

open window

fronds of a staghorn

quiver in night rain

shadows moving through the pines . . .

why can’t one of them be yours?

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

72

Sanford Goldstein

time: a tanka cluster

I squash

a carpenter ant,

I stare

at the kleenex,

the form

signed

for cremation

and put

the will

away

recalling

this August day

bitter chrysanthemums

in the hair

of the dead one

opening tonight’s paper

and another

name

crossed off. . .

Steinbeck’s gone

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

73

Sanford Goldstein

Mishima,

you didn’t wait

for this flesh

to compress or expand

these teeth to rot

once

along this March

street

there must have been women

with tangled hair

Genji,

I plan

to meet no one

in the space

after

in bed

the whisper

of death

and I wanted it

louder, louder

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

74

Sanford Goldstein

she stayed

twenty years

to bake

and sew

and all the rest

time

and the way

it makes its point:

a face

not seen in a decade

hours

in this jumble

of sound

where no-god

batters the heart

tonight

at least

there’s time

to see

this September moon

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

75

Sanford Goldstein

no falling blossoms

speak

my own mortality,

only this crumpled napkin

this stained cup

i

N.B.: “Steinbeck died in l968, Mishima in

l970, and my wife in l972. So these poems

were written between l968 and l975, and are

published here for the first time.”

—Sanford Goldstein.

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

76

Andrea Grillo

blue again

no summer sky

blue . . . that blue

deep into the wail

of a saxophone blue

every night

long past supper

my old lab licks

her empty bowl one more time

just to be sure

lilies float

in a black marble pool

of shallow water—

are they muses also

to the light and dark summer sky?

on the couch

I curl up under

a quilt

using the cold

to keep the world at bay

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

77

Michele Harvey

he never saw

the milk bottle

before it shattered

above his eye

the smallest scar

the flowering stub

of the apple

after the stroke

how quickly the wife

puts his life away

on a TV screen

the clear blue sky

is haunted

by waving handkerchiefs

of September Eleventh

fluffy whiteness

covers the walls

in the quiet room

his brother

in a straitjacket

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

78

Michele Harvey

on route 17

driving alone

alongside strangers

this universe of cars

expanding into space

we gave away

her eyes

while she was alive

pressured to decide

by workers in white

entire towns

swallowed

by the dam—

she is told he’s immune

to tears

at the wake

my father’s rival

winks . . .

remembering baseball

and my mother’s body

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

79

Michele Harvey

he moved

to this country

after the war

a baker

filling ovens

in his arms

while making love

she closes her eyes—

his life’s frustration

with every thrust

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

80

C W Hawes

The lilacs

are in full glory now;

this morning,

I am reminded

again of your absence.

Setting aside

our differences,

we try again;

around the elm stump,

all the bright green shoots.

Already white

these dandelions

of early May

and already white,

the growth of my beard.

The dandelions

have already blown and seeds

drift across the yard;

we look at each other,

knowing you must move on.

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

81

C W Hawes

The apple blossoms,

flying away in the breeze,

cover the yard;

without you, these branches

might as well be bare.

In the east

the sky barely light,

fog in the pines;

His words on my tongue,

a smile on my lips.

On my knees

reading the surah

by candlelight;

the swirl of fog and

the sun in the pine tops.

Listening

to “Sukiyaki”

on this iPod—

I hear the static

on my old radio.

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

82

C W Hawes

That huge oak,

standing majestic,

dwarfed the house;

five decades later,

is it still there?

The long grass:

so many waves running

before the wind;

how many lives are there

holding onto those roots?

I decide

to read poems by Saigyo

this morning:

the loneliness is

inescapable.

All the cars

driving by my window

this Sunday morning . . .

I’m curious: how many

are on their way to church?

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

83

C W Hawes

One’s faith

is clearly just that:

one’s faith;

many weeks have passed,

still no letter.

A Sunday

morning in early May . . . ;

prayers prayed,

gazing at the pine trees,

I remember Basho.

Early morning:

the sounds of the birds

and the wind,

occasionally

the singing of tires.

So many

poets dead and buried

by my age . . .

I think of this while

blowing out these candles.

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

84

C W Hawes

watching

the thunderstorm roll up

from the south

I see me nine years old

and laughing in the rain

Saigyo

and Basho, devoted

wanderers;

all of my journeys are

of the interior.

The deep breaths

of my meditation,

my focus—

and yet, my mind strays

to that pine in the wind.

In the morning,

I hear the call to prayer

from far away;

today, who will hear

this mechanical prayer?

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

85

C W Hawes

Floating,

on the air, a little

dandelion seed;

in the midst of these friends,

I find I’m that seed.

bright pink

the crabapple blossoms

now

a sprinkle of petals

to adorn our bed

the brown sand

stretching limitless

along the beach

each and every night

you nestled by my side

the seminary

student calls his mother

long distance

his icy voice chilling

the small talk

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

86

C W Hawes

in this mind

so pre-occupied

with tomorrow

there is no room for peace

no room for quiet

yellow fog

slowly advancing

relentless

the dark shapes like weeds

populate my mind

year after year

another candle

on the cake

and the relentless

advance of the cancer

my necktie

so incredibly tight

around my neck

the washing machine

twisting twisting the clothes

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

87

C W Hawes

a small child

sitting amongst the rubble

crying

in the market nearby

vegetables being sold

thoughts simmer

because of your phone call

this April day

cascading water

echoed on my cheeks

cigarettes

scent this August morning

workmen

going to work long

before the sun

I drive west

on Interstate 94

patches of snow

in greening ditches

the brown cattails

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

88

C W Hawes

on this bed

watered with your tears

we now sleep

together hands clasped

wedding rings moonlit

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

89

Elizabeth Howard

coralberry in the hedge

even now I hear

the scorn in his voice

buckbushes he called them

I break a sprig for the vase

from the pool

at the giant oak’s roots

flashes of red

and the click, click

of a cardinal drinking

green mountain

two bucks race

past the black cows

rise over the fence

white tails waving

bluff of icicles—

through hemlock

and rhododendron

the sparkling rush

of a waterfall

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

90

Elizabeth Howard

surgery waiting room

adults ignore

the lurid soap opera

only a little girl

intent on the screen

the fridge’s racket

at the country inn—

last night’s talent show

an old man rubbing

a washboard ditty

I lift my eyes

from the steaming platter

to shelves of Venetian glass—

the scent of garlic

the must of old wine cellar

where clumps

of bleeding hearts

edge the lane

signs of turmoil

in the leaf litter

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

91

Jamila

give me

my breath back

you stole it

when you told me

you loved another

where does he start

and where do I begin?

it is like

day turning to night

but which am I?

I wait

with the laundry

piling up

the water turns cold but

he still doesn’t return

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

92

Kirsty Karkow

remember the poem

where Hafiz says that God

likes circles?

a gold-red peach lies soft

in the curve of my hands

cabernet

come share a glass

let’s toast

with liquid rubies

to forget the blood

it’s not too wide

the canyon between tears

and laughter

let’s bridge it together

move to the happy side

raging wildfires

how loud the forest sounds

I have heard

that ponderosa pine cones

have need of heat to prosper

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

93

Kirsty Karkow

spring rains must

have emptied heaven’s wells

the streamlets sang

through many days and nights

as if drunk on fulfillment

if we drew lines

from star to star to star

all night long

would there be a final picture

before the ink ran out?

the daffodil

bows its yellow head to:

the rising sun

the sinking sun

and all the suns between

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

94

M. Kei

unfinished quilts

after her funeral,

I recognize

the ‘grandmother’s fan’

intended for my daughter

the earth not yet

settled on the graves,

the winter

has been very cold

this year

the tips of

the leaves of

the chokecherry tree,

yellow in the

summer rain

it’s a sad thing,

these wings of dust,

gliding through

the chill of dawn

that never comes

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

95

M. Kei

in autumn

the veil falls and

reveals the world

of heron-blue water

and memory-blue sky

a few dark figures

under a dagger moon

huddle together

beneath the overpass

and passing time

astrologer-poets

argue about stars,

Orion and his hounds

continue across

the winter sky

a morning

without sparrows

just the debris

of a long winter

tapping the window

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

96

Michael Ketchek

just as things

were getting boring

five bridesmaids

stepped out

and lit cigarettes

all the cars

neatly parked between the lines

just looking

you would never know

it’s a crazy world

on the town commons

stands the war memorial

a tribute to the bravery

of soldiers

the foolishness of man

her voice

sad Celtic violin

I’m homesick

for green hills

I’ve never seen

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

97

Michael Ketchek

New England town

stone Union soldier

watching over the commons

a quarry in the mountains

a hole in the forest’s heart

the mountain

looming over the everything

in the countryside

my father’s love so plain

he never had to speak of it

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

98

Larry Kimmel

The Way of Things

in the grey distance

the line between sky and hillscape,

barely discernible—

without faulting the facts

memoir becomes legend

standing among stately pines

disgraced and alone in my outcast state

yet always,

always an integral part

of the universe

to pick up the beach

grain by grain, how long?

in eternity

no time at all, I think—

the endless hour glass trickles trickles

first light

morphing into shadowless dawn

perfect stillness

what I am I am

right here right now

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

99

Larry Kimmel

Kinds of Loss

this time, she tells me,

she’s telling the truth—

between us

I watch the struggles of a wasp

drowning in peach juice

we all have our secret selves,

but to hear it

on the twisted sheets of love—

my whole body

a stubbed finger

walking in the shade

of the tree tunnel

a sunbeam cuts my eye

when I least expect it—

that time she played me for a fool

the analyst

plays her hand

cards facing out—

you select the one

that puts me at fault

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

100

Larry Kimmel

at a distance,

November trees like antlers

along the river—

of betrayal

let the jacked-deer be my metaphor

i

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

101

Kathy Kituai

will they fall softly

I come home

to find you asleep

on my shoes

are you dreaming

the sound of footsteps?

you greet me

seek out my lap purr

what I notice

is you pay no heed

to your matted fur

shall we talk

about my leaving?

‘impossible?’

you glare your shut mouth

ulcerated

I keep watch

the night you wind back

the lonely hour

to a time before we sat

close to the end of your days

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

102

Kathy Kituai

looking

into your eyes looking

into mine

I no longer see the world

as a place to prey in

limp in my arms

on our return from the vet . . .

how can this be

you will be waiting won’t you

the other side of the door

will they fall softly

the way they did where you slept—

plum leaves

underneath the tree

where you dream deeper

— for Muffie: 1992–2006

i

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

103

Joseph V. Kleponis

moonlight through treetops

cascading onto the bay—

you sang a love song

that carried through the night—

I thought it was meant for me

the ride on the el—

rhythmic clack of metal wheels—

your hand brushes mine

as the door hisses open

night’s cool air touches us both

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

104

Gary LeBel

Pleiades . . .

what

a foolish

lovely thing,

desire

even after the heavy rains

became the bright stars of that night

I was still only mud

murmuring up

to the river

skeletons tangoing

across the rooftops of this dusk,

this hour,

leave those who’ve never danced

their teeth-bitten flower

the soft curves

of your body:

better than words

as I pretend not to watch you undress

from behind a book

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

105

Gary LeBel

the summer sea . . .

who but lovers and artists

have mapped that place

where flesh jumps the gap

to soul?

late honeysuckle

wafts through the bedroom window

over eyes that stare at the ceiling,

eyes I didn’t mean

to fill with tears

with an invincible elegance

she sashays slowly across the screen

launching triremes of desire

toward the strange and delicate coasts

behind each film-lit eye

It’s in Rembrandt’s oils

of Titus’ curls,

that same light

behind the eyelids

of Vermeer’s girls

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

106

Jean LeBlanc

weave me

a blanket of stories

long into the night

your fingers tangled

in my hair

a canyon wren’s song

raindrops in the high desert

her mind

too young

for this disease

three clocks

in the kitchen,

each with

a different time:

you, me, us

Sunday, a loaf

of homemade bread

all to myself,

a kitchen

of yeast and sage

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

107

Robert Hill Long

University

starts back up tomorrow—

In the coffee shops

sophomores practice

staring at blank legal pads

In the woodblock room

of the Asian gallery

a sliding drawer reads

This Display Not For Children—

inside, lovers making kids

A drop of rain is

not a drop of rain when

it strikes my window

in the airport bus

after a fight with my wife

Always a baby

bawling on the long flights

eventually he’ll stop—

the wind on the jet’s wings

has to quit somewhere

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

108

Robert Hill Long

My wife composes

our New Year’s message

faith hope love the works—

On each solemn envelope

I stick the flag-stamp upside down

A phone number

inked suicide-red

on an unsmoked cigarette

in the gutter—probably

the woman I should have married

A single robin

rehearsing his pick-up line

in a row of late-March oaks—

My spayed white dog cocks

her ear, uncocks her ear

What’s that crow saying

This pine is a leaky house

the rain is damn cold

I’m hungry where’s my mother —

shuffles wet feathers and flies

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

109

Bob Lucky

at the airport

there’s barely time for a kiss—

security

at home I take a shower,

dry off with your wet towel

Thai massage

at the women’s prison—

she works on my feet

and plans her escape;

I can feel it

it should be easy

as a game of darts

I let him win—

but he beats me

by losing again

there’s always a monkey

beating off at the zoo—

school boys laugh,

the facts of life not fitting

into the teacher’s plan

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

110

Bob Lucky

the dentist

has freed her from pain—

unknown drugs

she tells us all

about her baked potato

on my street

dogs and cats call a truce

at night—

I drop rotten mangos

back into my neighbor’s yard

I don’t call you

afraid you might think

I care—

and if you thought I cared

I probably would

our love is old

worn smooth, cracked

predictable—

down the road the wrong way

an elephant takes a stroll

— for Lisa and the elephants of Chiang Mai

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

111

Bob Lucky

the cleaning lady

throws open doors and windows

and leaves—

a spotless house

filled with mosquitoes

everyone

should

share

one secret

with no one

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

112

Terra Martin

swans circling

in their mating dance

reflected

on the night table

our glasses twinkle

in the shell the

sound of the sea

telling, telling

my blushes

give me away

a shooting star

dwindles

like a whisper

your shallow breathing

lulls me to sleep

from front door

to the garden gate

a universe

a hummingbird

sips a honeysuckle

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

113

Terra Martin

virginia bluebells

color the cemetery

sanctuary

a question

you never asked

yesterday slips

through my fingers

like water

your apology

washes over me

summer slowly

opens her kimono

to reveal

the peony blossoms’

fragrant dew

honey sweet

hyacinth

a strange perfume

clings

to your evening jacket

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

114

Terra Martin

high summer

embroidering roses

over emerald cushions

you feed me

strawberries and cream

hands play

with light and shadow

a puppet

I surrender to your

lingering touch

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

115

Francis Masat

blossoms

with no breeze

a gold haze hangs in the air

only the bees

coming and going

deserted street—

the rolling cadence

of a plastic jug—

thunder

in the distance

I spill sand

from small swim fins

in the morning air

the sound

of wind chimes

Provence—

oil paintings

of l’huile d’olive - irises

full of blue

a child’s eyes

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

116

Francis Masat

rain—

just a gull and I

at the river’s edge

did Spalding Gray think

so too?

school class

we collect leaves

for the nursing home—

skimming rocks

only the clouds return

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

117

Michael McClintock

the day before

heading off to the Army,

my father and friends

smiling into the camera—

smart, funny, and immortal

morning lights

the polish

on the floor

this is the best

time of day

I sat awhile

picking my nose this morning,

considering

the many shortcomings

of our national life

in the world

outside my window

a cloud detaches

from the others

and enters my dream

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

118

Michael McClintock

curious all week

about what the new one keeps

in her cubicle—

a vase of jungle orchids

made of soft Chinese silk

from the shade

of thick, green leaves

a nesting dove

looks out upon the bright day

perhaps hopeful of a breeze

there’s a house

far back in the summer woods

I’ve visited for years . . .

a noon-hour nap is still

my only way to get there

forty miles

of bad road

and now this

small town green with trees

where every woman is beautiful

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

119

Michael McClintock

five hundred children

crowding into the circus—

I comfort the kid

who’s allergic to peanuts

and fears clowns

furtively

slipping asparagus spears

under the table—

later I find the dog

didn’t want them either

of summer days

few remain . . .

nights are chilly

and in the morning a mist

hangs over the newspaper

a blue morning sun

on a cold city street—

deciding

what’s me and what’s

everything else

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

120

Michael McClintock

Erasmus,

I wish you were here

for a walk

into town.

Yes, I do.

on this rock world

I’ve found

nothing

shines

of itself

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

121

Michael McClintock

Summer Movies

of course, as kids,

we knew no better than to laugh

at the parasite

in the science fiction movie,

attached to the adult’s brain

the Wolf Man’s

transformation by moonlight

was his problem—

for us, chewing licorice whips,

it was entertainment

the owl hoots,

it never cries—

you’d think

once in a while

an owl might

i

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

122

Annette Mineo

how boyish

to tease the swan with

your fake gesture

of food so he rears up and

splashes his great white desire

what else for mama

on her eightieth birthday

but plain white callas

with brilliant

purple centers?

hands inside

my old father’s gloves

I clean winter leaves

from beneath hydrangeas

the earth exhales

on St. Patty’s day

between two Irish coffees

and your smiling eyes

a longing for

your mother’s soda bread

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

123

Annette Mineo

I cut my hair today

with each snip the years

of trouble

fell to the floor

like a petal I left floating

a sliver of day

beneath the shade

your hand on my belly

as I try to find words for

the broken me you never knew

the red-winged blackbirds

have returned

to sing from the golden reeds

with them

every age I’ve ever been

into me

a solitary swan floats

a great white cloud

what ever made me so afraid

of being alone?

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

124

Amy Nawrocki

A folded letter

awaits its chance to open

and unfasten

all correspondence; this, as I fall

into the envelope of your love.

I return

from an amethyst moment

of lost sleep; instead

of a dream, my hand finds

the rough facets of your back.

In grandmother’s

kitchen my sister and I

eat oranges—

tart crescent moons slice into

the mouth’s antique memory.

The black and ivory

prickles of a porcupine’s

quills know something:

mysteries of how contact

can sting and wound.

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

125

Amy Nawrocki

Wings disintegrate

like flowers in a compost

pile, or dead leaves

many years after their falling,

once ripe, precious, and viridian.

Without sun the pine

needles cannot help but hold

rain drops captive.

If words were as frequent

as these crystal drops, I’d write.

As soon as dusk shields

the day’s flower from brightness,

the moon’s quiet loom

imparts grace onto weary

petals, weaving leaves to sleep.

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

126

Dustin Neal

“strike three!”

the old president

behind home plate

droops his head

at the home team’s loss

cloud

after cloud

the moon dims—

a one-eyed man at the bar

in and out of sleep

distant lightning,

do you see me

in this fog

lighting one cigarette

after another?

in this

sudden flood . . .

earthworm,

where are we

so eager to go?

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

127

Dustin Neal

bramble,

how long are we

going to poke

people the wrong way

till they see our beauty?

old creek,

how many other

wide-eyed boys

covered in red mud

have called you theirs?

nearly spring—

nothing in me

wants to bloom

as she picks new

hearts to trample

our conversations

end in war . . .

alone, I

watch the dogs fight

over my crumbs

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

128

Dustin Neal

spring night

a dream of you

snuggled

within the threads

of this quilt

shall we both

share these songs

mockingbird?

I’ll strum a note

to find your key

a dip

of Copenhagen

in his smile,

he anxiously cleans the dirt

underneath his fingernails

shivering

above a stove

how can I

consider my hands

empty on this cold night?

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

129

Dustin Neal

evening

the dandelion

and I

allow the wind

to direct us elsewhere

page after page,

the librarian silences

her sneeze,

wind gusts rattle

the door sign

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

130

Louis Osofsky

completely still

the fire box is cold

night’s end

seems my body exists

inside your mirror

at the funeral

my mouth opens

to laugh

yet, another hand

squeezes my heart

dust

on the second pillow

kept in bed

waiting for you

to brush it

i stare into

closets & drawers

none kept time

windows opening

summer happens again

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

131

Louis Osofsky

mysterious

i deflect your irony

return no malice

a game of catch

only we seem to know

in warmth

together touching

we lie

our embrace

holds back the cold

chocolate

melting on the counter

sweet yet sad

your kiss

surprises my forehead

a song of taste

kissing each other

cheek to cheek

a dance

of here & now

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

132

Louis Osofsky

you’re deaf

not afraid of silence

so I listen

& respond

in soft stillness

turning

pillows over

lifting sheets

i… breathless

fan your see-through skin

we dance

wearing each other

the cat twines

nudged into new shapes

your toes delicately curl

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

133

Stephen A. Peters

today the

rainstorm

overtakes me

tomorrow

who knows

near the

park bench

the autumn breeze

leaf by leaf

missing you

browsing the items

at the garage sale

among the blankets

the talk again

of winter

fireworks over

a sky filled now

with stars

and across the pond

a frog croaks

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

134

Stephen A. Peters

autumn leaves

the stairway

a bit steeper

that creak in

my left knee

forest pond

another season

still the old frog

floats among

the pull of stars

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

135

Pam Pignataro

Morning moon

outside my kitchen window;

crows land

on bare branches of the oak—

silhouettes of leaving

One blue-black crow

perched on a bare branch, unmoving

and unmoved.

Bring me your solitude,

your stillness, your silence.

Windows

leaded by autumn rain

and dusk—

I cannot see out,

no one can see me.

Water

slips under the canoe—

blue, green, light.

Yellowed memories sigh

and drift silently to shore.

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

136

Jack Prewitt

we call this split

of sky from earth

daybreak

like our separation

it seems irreversible

my journey

puts mountains

behind me,

transfers each day

from future to past

dust motes

in sunlight slanting

across our bed

blessed by the magic

of mundane things

early joggers

on the beachside path

smile at me

especially those

that look like you

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

137

Jack Prewitt

village cenotaph

an old man scrubs

the bird shit

off names of the fallen,

grateful his isn’t there

very politely,

apologising in advance

he invites

each woman to bed—

he is a maths major

a fire track

through ironbark forest—

james dean

and a long-legged girl

throb past on his harley

drowning

in other people’s music—

if death

is the price of silence

could be it’s a bargain

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

138

Jack Prewitt

never mind

I’ll do it myself

underlined

in a phrase book left

among fallen blossoms

3 am

screams shatter

the night

a cot death relived

then stashed away

this candidate

represents the Greens—

that’s his daughter

going round the park

picking up his pictures

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

139

Patricia Prime

washed clean

in the riverbed

a round white stone

for a moment I hold it

solid and warm in my hand

beyond the window

a scentless begonia

stretches green leaves

catching the last summer sun

and the song of cicadas

autumn sends

slight shivers through

the hills

as each falling leaf settles

on the ground beneath our feet

in the parcel

from a young woman

who lives in a bus

handmade stained glass ornaments

butterfly in flight and a heart

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

140

Patricia Prime

where should we meet

but in this shabby park

with the swings missing

as the sunset flares up

above a half-dismantled fair

the lamp is in place

by the notes on the desk

for a short story

that tells of forbidden love

a tale of perfect sex

on a certain evening

miles from nowhere

the lake turns to milk

in the light of a full moon

where we kissed for the first time

this is how it is:

I turn my glance

to the garden

as though to open fields,

try to write “quite simply”

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

141

Patricia Prime

the sun on the sea

napkins on our knees

we share shrimps

together like children

waiting for the next moment

parting makes simple sense

there’s nothing special about it

the air is to blame

garden noisy with cicadas

sun above the pine trees

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

142

Kala Ramesh

the skylark

scales the deep valley

scattering notes that linger

in every blade of grass

and the buzzing bees

our bodies, for what

seemed an eternity

became the love song

of the shepherd, seeking

the idyllic union

she wears

silk saris with grace

bound into a cocoon

should the silk worm be burnt

alive for that?

in your voice, sorrow

mountain owl, more like

when I’m alone

my body quickens to all

that I thought long forgotten

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

143

Kala Ramesh

sugarcane sticks out

from bullock-carts

I sense its sweetness

my baby . . . just feeling you

through my stomach wall

smiling as high tide

caresses her bare limbs

I remember grandma saying

girls shouldn’t expose

their legs in public

placing my feet

in its warmth

I toe-lift the chattai

to check the coldness

of the floor

Chattai – Banana grass floor mats

used widely in India.

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

144

Lynne Rees

two women

are sharing a beach picnic

in January

I breathe in the cold sea-air

and what I want to call, love

driving alone

from the Alps to the Pyrenees

to this strange town

sometimes I am grateful

for my own small shadow

still stewing

about last night’s argument

over my desk

a blue sheep trots in the sun

the river runs downhill

callused bark

where the graft’s two tongues

became one ––

it’s twenty three years , he says

and we haven’t stopped talking

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

145

Lynne Rees

first one leaf

then another then dozens

tumbling between trees

the urge to let go sometimes

stronger than a need to hold on

looking at the face

in the mirror that looks back

at me… a woman

who doesn’t want to believe

she’s only a trick of light

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

146

Adelaide B. Shaw

Arrival in Geneva

gray dawn

the gray smell of coal smoke

against gray buildings;

a stranger in a foreign city

will it ever be home?

exploring the streets

the quick French of the natives

carried in the wind;

tentatively I ask

for directions

cold wind down my neck—

my string bag bulges

with groceries;

at the end of the first day

a lighter step to my walk

i

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

147

Adelaide B. Shaw

spring shower—

in a crowded café

forty-year old songs;

with each note

a trickling memory

this spring sun

pouring down on me

like liquid

through my arms, to my hands

a new strength in simple acts

eight weeks of care

tender touches and soft words

each morning a peek

to watch the hibiscus

reveal its one blossom

a slow waking—

pressed down by heavy heat

morning comes;

another day to get through,

another day of no desires

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

148

Adelaide B. Shaw

mid-afternoon

the sun still warm

so late in autumn

a gentle slowing down

nothing to do but give in

a slow baking

of cinnamon apples—

the scents of autumn

from outside in

and inside out

the winter moon

slipping in and out of clouds

this blustery night

thoughts of you slip

in and out of memory

five -year old charmer—

her cascading giggle

breaks my heart;

may she always have

such joy and dimples

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

149

Adelaide B. Shaw

time to say good-bye

in the early morning chill

good wishes echo;

our smiles set on hold

until the taxi leaves

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

150

Guy Simser

One foot in water

one foot on land, I stand here

contemplating life

and death at the edges, life

and death so close to hand

So deftly covered

by a curling iron wisp

yet, Rembrandt

would have found that tiny

black hair on grandma’s mole

The longer

the cold shadow of the birch

the warmer

the gold

of its leaves

Twilight lake fog

our damp hands

wooing

a loon alone

alone

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

151

Guy Simser

The tanka poet’s

effort to be unique

amongst thousands

on the tidal flats, that

one flamingo’s dance

I understood dad

a god-fearing man

rendered helpless

Lou Gehrig’s disease

what did he not do

Sick for four days

we sleep apart

temporarily

a high school kid again

aching for Friday night

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

152

André Surridge

driving at dusk

through city suburbs

just as people

turn on house lights

looking into their lives

at the end

of a long dark alley

a small blue flame

in the gas lamp outside

the Spiritualist Centre

statue

of an unknown warrior

only his fingertip

in sunlight this autumn day

we read the names in silence

looking for your face

in the crowded shopping mall

its warmth and light

I steer through the heavy swell

to my personal lighthouse

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

153

André Surridge

taking a bit

of the old fence with him

a bull reaches

into the neighbouring paddock

for lush green grass

jigsaw

one crucial piece

missing

the way I feel

when you’re away

autumn’s honeyed light

we walk through ankle deep leaves

the dogs run ahead

a whirl of leaves in their wake

barks echoing through the wood

back to back

we sleep each on our own

edge of the bed

outside a cat fight

brings it all back

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

154

Barbara A. Taylor

synchronised

to the robin’s song

prismatic dew drops

on ancient lichen

glimmer

saddles and bridles

the loose bit

soft leather, stirrups

forget your spurs

a whisperer needs no whip

rodeos, musters

at Kentucky or Ascot

the smell, the sweat

puffing snorting stallions

leather rubbed on frothy flanks

Minus forty

freezing lakes

spiked frosty grasses—

street-smart sparrows huddle

above the underground

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

155

Barbara A. Taylor

scented blossoms

new urges of desire

after moons of longing nights

spent thoughts of loving her

have passed

her new horizon—

the lichen-covered limb

branches fallen

opening broad perspectives

of gumtrees in sweeping valleys

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

156

CarrieAnn Thunell

he chants the liturgy

in flawless Latin—

the genus and species

of the native plants

he loves

a doe tiptoes

through driftwood and stones

then leaps up the bank—

wish I fit

into my skin like that

a willow

dips its fingertips

in the lake

my heart stirs

with thoughts of you

backpacking

his beard grows out

with the tide

his wildness rising

as the tide comes in

Modern English Tanka — Summer 2007

157

CarrieAnn Thunell

blending in

with rippled ice water

a lone heron

seems but a shadow

as was I without you

cumulus clouds