A fly mistook
My ear
For shelter
And it wasn’t even raining.
“Fly in there and die,”
I thought.
Lately I think too much about dying.
And as he tried to back out,
I heard him thunder
While I shouted,
Shook my head
And pounded my ear.
He rested a silent moment,
Then flew out the window
Into the June-blue sky.
[138]
When I was 14 (or near that) our family took a trip East. A little piece of Pennsylvania made a pretty big impact on me. I think it was the first time I was exposed up-close to a culture other than what was offered in Charlotte, Michigan and greater Eaton County. They have been referred to by others as the “Pennsylvania Dutch.” In a broader sense they are Amish. So much of this culture is interesting to me and the memories from the trip are strong so to pass a little of it along, I’ve been doing a series of “Pennsylvania Dutch Hex Symbols.” (Surprise: They don’t have any thing with the Dutch or Hexes.)
This offering is a popular representation of the “Distlefink.” The distlefink legend, as I understand it, began with the early immigrant farmers who had new fields infested with thistles. The goldfinch’s appetite for thistle seed, helped with this problem. The story goes that the farmer called it the “Thistlefinch” and due to his strong German accent it sounded like “Distlefink” to others. This symbol, often painted on barns represents hopes for good luck and good fortune.
[137]
You know I don’t write these things to rip off famous people. I write them (and “sing” them) as an homage. I mark them as parody for legal purposes.
I adore Tom Waites. He and I are on parallel developmental paths. His involves more fame and money, but the aesthetics are parallel. This is called
Chocolate Sprinkles.
I have to get chocolate sprinkles
on my ice cream when you’re away.
If I don’t get chocolate sprinkles,
I’m bound to have a shitty day.
Chorus
I thank God for chocolate sprinkles.
I thank God for vanilla ice cream.
I thank God you don’t leave me
Except in my worst kind of dreams.
Chocolate sprinkles can’t hug and kiss me.
They can’t even stroke my cheek,
But they liven up my whole demeanor
And make me smile when I am weak.
Chorus
I don’t want no hot fudge sundae.
I don’t want no banana split.
I sure as hell don’t want no sorbet.
And waffle cones taste like shit.
Chorus.
[130]
Before a thing exists, we don’t know it’s a thing.
Before radio, we didn’t know what radio was.
Before TV,
Before atomic bombs,
Before rockets,
Before me.
After a thing exists we know it’s a thing.
We know what made the thing
and we can name it:
a ram jet makes sonic booms,
CO2 makes global warming,
my mom + dad makes me
(it is an uneven task).
It’s when we keep going backwards,
that things get awkward.
What made mom + dad?
What made a ram jet?
What made CO2?
Eventually we must ask:
Is there a time before everything?
Before steel?
Before carbon?
Before atoms?
Before matter and energy?
Abrahamic religions tell us that nomadic desert dwellers
from thousands of years ago
had already asked that question.
Their answer was: God,
YAHWEH.
They found a thing called God
And they named it: YAHWEH.
More precisely, the voice of YAHWEH.
The Word.
God spoke and it all became.
Before that, Babylonians recorded a tale
wherein the great god, Marduk
battled the goddess, Tiamat
and that struggle created the Earth and its people.
Or, specifically, the body of the defeated goddess
is used to make the sky and the earth,
her tears form the great rivers
and her son, (who is also her spouse?)
contributes his blood to make people.
Of course, the story doesn’t tell us
how the warriors and her son,
and all the other gods who were watching
came to be
except they were divided out of other Gods
Before them.
It’s always the same:
Someone or something
has a thought.
He or she, but usually He, speaks
or fights
or commands
the Earth,
or the land and sky,
or the earth and the heavens
to come into existence
and all that follows is called “after.”
Science tells this story too:
In the beginning,
The Universe
(a far larger story, they say)
does not exist.
It is “before.”
It is before time or space or things.
And then something unknown/unknowable happened.
It is named The Big Bang.
We do not know what caused it,
Or what “it” was,
Or where “it” was.
Or when “it” was:
Some scientists say,
“13.787±0.020 billion years as interpreted with the Lamda-CDM concordance mode,”
and a few others say
“A little less according to the background microwave radiation measurements of Plank.”
Howsomever,
All these calculations took place “after.”
And now there are things,
and now there is space,
and now there is time.
All of that happened in a twinkling of an eye.
The story continues today.
This is “now”
and we don’t know what is “after after.”
And we won’t know until…after.
Some say BOOM;
Some say freezing in the dark,
but both leave space and time
And matter lingering.
…unless the clock can tick backward
or runs in circular time.
If that is the case
we are looking for the beginning of a circle.
Modern atheists
(and nihilists),
or even ancient ones, as far as I know,
made their own sounds against that small voice.
“But what of before?”
And
“What of after?”
That voice with that question
does not create anything,
Or at least it hasn’t yet.
Apparently only mythological gods die;
the Earth abides…
until it doesn’t.
[85]
We were young, stupid,
but that thing nagged at us hard.
Your bits were younger,
Mine were virgin, insisting.
I have never forgotten.
[79]
Before you cheated
I was lost in your blue eyes
Liquid pools bouyed me
insulated me from storms
kept the tragedy at bay.
[80]
I see you naked
only in my memory
for these 40 years.
That does not stop me at all.
My fantasy is stubborn.
[81]
That season was hot.
I didn’t have a fan but
We chilled all summer,
rolling in the waterbed
laid out on the concrete floor.
[82]
Do I like tankas?
Well, not particularly.
They feel like haiku
That can not find their endings
like an old Bob Seger song.
[83]
Conditional? Yes!
My love comes with strings:
Puppy, no house poop!
Her love denies boundaries
But she drinks from the toilet.
[84]
This started as an experiment on FaceBook.
From Ezra Pound:
The apparition of these faces in the crowd:
Petals on a wet, black bough.
From me:
The dog’s bright eyes in stillness…
The rabbit in silhouette against the snow.
[76]
The owl’s eyes in moonlight
her wings in darkness
her talons in flesh.
[77]
Her illium in moonlight,
a dunescape of grays,
a long rill,
a graceful curve,
a valley in shadow,
my hand in silver.
[78]
This spate of haikus comes from a prompt offered from the FaceBook page of friend and bard, Terry Wooten. That’s him in the photo performing at his unique venue, Stone Circle. He wrote:
Bi-polar April.
Peepers singing in snowflakes.
Change lawn mower oil.
(April 18, 2022)
I shared his poem on my FaceBook page with the following comment: “It is a nearly perfect example of the the American Haiku: 5-7-5, presents something funny and/or surprising, it contains nature and makes a comment on humanness. It goes above and beyond by banging two things together that don’t belong together (twice!!) for a little “contrapposto.” I took it as a challenge to write my own April poem. I thought I could take inspiration and match his genius. Not today! I’ll keep trying.”
The rest of the day I continued to put out haiku and some are better than others. I’m not certain any rose to Terry’s level above.
Oh no! I just drank
six gay beers and I liked it.
Please don’t tell my wife.
[68]
Heart doctor gave me
(prostate the size of a peach)
Mass diuretics.
[69]
What makes a haiku?
In America, mostly
Humor and surprise.
[70]
Ski masks make baseball
Look like bank robbing–
Another stolen base.
[71]
It’s hard to see things
If you don’t do anything.
Bad haiku! Bad ‘ku!
[72]
When the sun peeks through
on a snowy April day,
don’t believe the lie.
[73]
A Fox News headline
Is a lie that might happen
In Bizarroland.
[74]
Matter/energy
Cannot be made or destroyed.
Where’d the ice cream go?
[75]
Why save those old canvases?
I guess I thought I might paint over them one day.
The brain that made those images
Was stiff.
No training. Little forethought.
I called them “studies.”
They were more like meditations
Without thought or intent.
The new, older brain becomes more plastic.
I see more potential.
In 35 years I haven’t ended my relationships
With them.
Today I tore them down
And resurfaced them with 400 grit.
I used the zazan frog block
And reprinted him in pthalo green
On 35 year old purple stripes.
He seems to like it there.
Travel well Zazen.
Go visit my grandchildren.
[52] and [53-67]
They are starting to go now,
Like the rockstars;
A bunch checked out early,
Not exactly a poets’ 27 Club
But a spike on the graph, for sure.
And now, we are starting to drop.
Turds from an elephant’s ass
Is the only metaphor that comes to me.
This week, another one.
Last week too.
It doesn’t seem to matter,
The fire and the ice both end.
Wind has forgotten how to blow
In Chicago and everywhere.
I wonder at next.
I look at the actuaries’ lists.
I know I’m on there somewhere.
Probably pretty soon.
I love who is still in this tent
With me.
Let me say that deliberately.
But the sense of this era for me
seems to be a growing choice
Between mourning
Or being mourned.
If you are reading this
And you are a poet,
Let it serve as a cautionary tale.
If you are reading this
And you are not a poet,
I take this moment to bid you a conscious adieu.
Maybe read this poem again in a few years.
[51]
woodblock print
This little (5″x5″) piece of art has a linear story. My friend Chris Cavanagh is Facebook friends with another friend of mine, Stefan Sencerz. Among other things, Chris and Stefan share a long-time interest in Buddhism and all manifestations of Zen. In following a Zen moment between them back to Stefan’s Facebook page, I encountered the image of Sengai Gibon’s (1751-1837) “a frog doing zazen.” It was, and is, brilliant. I asked Stefan if he thought the old master would mind my borrowing his image for a woodcut. We decided he would be pleased. Stefan offered the text of his haiku, so I have transcribed it here and on the back of the print.
just sitting
motionless …
a fly on frog’s nose
Stefan Sencerz
I present “zazen,” an issue of 5 printed in black on hand painted canvas paper. 2023
I already know there will be a slightly larger issue in green on a variety of art papers and perhaps a third issue on origami paper.
If you are compelled to have a copy, contact me.
I’m sorry these five are gone. I will producing an different edition in green and assorted art papers shortly.
Update 4/17/23
Zazen frog just sits.
He is fat and yet he smiles.
What Zen empties him? [68]
[46-50]