Interview T & F

An Interview T & F Preamble: Anywhere there is water, there I dip my line. Life can skim the surface. Life can reside in depths. And truth is a bad deal, my friend, it ruptures the Bohemian night. Precision was what he was after, like an imprisoned felon seeking reprieve. It’s been so long; memory could be wrong. So, fuzzy wuzzy was he, but logically he was not he. Sorry, my line drifts… Note: Neither Franz Kafka nor Tao Qian knew of each other and neither cared about fame. They lived literally worlds apart both in time and in space. What follows is a brief fictional interview Franz did of Qian: F: I heard it said, the more things change, the more they stay the same. T: Yes, the I-Ching, The book of Changes. F: Yes, things transform; they undergo metamorphoses. By the way, are you afraid of roaches. T: Only of the kinds that move about, only of the kinds that dwell in high places. And I smoke them out. They pass legislations and suddenly the illegal becomes legal. They eat a meal, walk as far as half a block, and consume another meal. Their entire life is a repetition of meals. F: Interesting. I understand that you are a famous poet in China. Is that correct? T: Look at it this way, my friend, if you are a successful traveling salesman of restaurant cookware, then I am a poet who has drowned himself many times in wine. F: I understand that you gave up a high government post to become a rustic farmer of chrysanthemums. T: Yes, my friend, just as you prefer Prague coffeehouses, I prefer the anonymity of village dung. Confucius said there is beauty in all, except some fail to see it. F: Quite true, my friend. I have learned from you. Have you written any of this down? T: Though I have scribbled volumes, it is literary lightweight. Burning it will only produce a pale fire. F: Thank you, my friend, I have learned from you. Now I must find my friend Max and give final instructions. T: Goodbye, my friend, when you come this way again, look for the house surrounded by five willows. Epilogue: Friends can be as eloquent as the long Great Wall of China or as terse as a legal brief. You can hear each murmur in a crowded courtroom or the silence of a bamboo leaf.

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New Forum for Poems: Chrysanthemum Poems (above)

Submit poems to Chrysanthemum Poems by email to koonwoon@gmail.com

Koon Woon June 1, 2024

Poem _______________ David Gilmour

 

DEPTH GAUGE

 

Standing on the sunlit bank

Throw yourself into the stream, shadow and all

If you are in substance ready to plumb the depth.

The experience you suffer daily is enough to appall;

Immersion in that material swamp—contents not forms.

Viewing the off-season family theatre from the crack

In the stage door; star-struck neighbors hanging round,

Stiff with drink, animated bags, stalking before the flood-

Lights and backtracking into the barren set.

There’s furniture, sure, the place is packed,

Furniture and pictures just for the sake of mood.

 

You are seeking contact with the wild world,

Aren’t you? I mean beyond the daily tragedy,

Where unnerved Furies can be temporarily tamed

By gutbusting laughter, or where a saint, crowned

By an atom-bomb blast, stands as an icon on a knoll,

Glowing like the beaming Dalai Lama in Dharamshala.

Hey! Forget those black-light dashboard skeletons.

In this scene The Presence smiles a happy refugee.

 

Do you really need the wisdom of bombastic Agamemnon?

Foreverafter fearful of the backyard bathroom?

That cannot help much.  Noooooooo!

For the scientist and the poet,

Creative data abounds

To study humankind in ways beyond the norm:

You know, fragrant thoughts of forests in Borneo;

An FM-band humming B. B. King, the blues bard,

Singing “Hummingbird” just on the verge of twilight

Greening.

 

Come on then!  The horned Bull has been sacrificed,

The Ram has run,

The Fish have played upon the horizon

In spring morning’s celestial stream.

If you are going to enjoy the Waters,

Fall, sun at your back,

Throw yourself in, shadow and all.

 

David Gilmour

 

 Koon Woon in Quail Bell Journal:  http://www.quailbellmagazine.com/the-unreal-20/poetry-seattle-3-poems-by-koon-woon

Julie Dickson ________________________ three poems

 

Earth sadly

 

I am the earth sadly waiting to die

below a vast canopy of green leaves;

flee from here into expansive blue,

revel in the view, expanse of kestrel

wings, shimmer of sun in knowing eyes;

he sends me back, time not yet over.

 

Sit upon my rocks far out on sea

island, jagged edges biting flesh, raw

memories run marathon, overlap,

collide, reality crashes - the past

cannot separate until a whale breach

sends spray, sea mist awakens; stand

 

high on melting glacier, feet frozen, boots

rated for below zero don’t cut it, won’t

feel toes nor fingers, numb like each time

gunshots heard, screams of children, knives

slice silent shouts of protest, unappeased

masses, more weapons amassed to destroy

 

what semblance of calm remains as blood

drains, rivulets careen down streets, footprints

mark path of humanity, destined to

destroy species without habitats, elephants

perform under duress, bears feast as birds

peer down from canopy of leaves, I expire

 

slowly, painful floating waves of plastic,

discarded refuse in belly of sharks, oil

slick pelicans suffocate, death on sand –

no matter ancient commands of worship,

humans once knew my worth; still progress

into state of ruination, await my demise.

 

Julie A. Dickson

Exeter, New Hampshire

 

 

freezing to death

 

if i lie down in snow

will fire still burn,

harsh embers

igniting

a frightening

explosion, white flames

erupting, disrupting

coherence

will fire still burn

if i lie down in snow?

Julie A. Dickson

  

Vigil

 

Barren the dunes,

landscape of emptiness,

devoid of humanity,

lighthouse keeps vigil,

watchful over ships and sea birds,

blue horizon meets sea of hopefulness,

lighthouse calls out, answering the waves

 

 

Julie A. Dickson