Franz Kafka interviews Tao Qian by koon woon

https://fivewillowspoetry.blogspot.com/

Franz Kafka (briefly) Interviews Tao Qian

Preamble:

Anywhere there is water

There I dip my line

Life can reside in depths

Truth is a bad deal, my friend,

It ruptures the Bohemian night

Fuzzy Wuzzy was he

But logically he was not he

My line drifts

Note:

Neither Franz Kafka nor Tao Qian knew of each other nor cared about fame. And they lived literally worlds apart in time and space. What follows is a brief fictional interview:

F:  Are you afraid of roaches?

T:  Of the kind that moved about, only the kind that moves in high places. I smoke them out.

      They pass legislations and suddenly illegal becomes legal, etc. They eat a meal, walk then as

      far as half a block, and then eat another meal.

F:  I understand that you are a famous poet on 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 you gave up a government post to become a rustic farmer of chrysanthemums.

T:  Yes, my friend, just as you prefer Prague coffeehouses, I prefer anonymity amongst village

      dung. Confucius said there is beauty in all, except some fail to see it.

F:  Thank you, my friend, I must go see my friend Max now.

T: Good-bye, 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.

-          Koon Woon, March 6, 2020

.               

Grant from the WA State Arts Commission

We are indeed thankful for a grant of $1,200 from the WA State Arts Commission to publish the 2020 Chrysanthemum Literary Anthology and readings in the Seattle area. 

Good morning, Blues!

$1,200 Grant from the WA State Arts Commission

The WA State Arts Commission has just granted the Chrysanthemum Literary Society $1,200 for its Chrysanthemum 2020 Poetry Anthology and a public reading at the C & P Coffee in West Seattle. We deeply thank the WA State Arts Commission for its clear vision in meaningful and necessary poetry for the times we are coping with. 

Koon Woon ----------- nonfiction

TOO LONG A STORY by koon woon (draft)

Julie A.Dickson ---- four poems

Rejoice

Single bird perched upon snow covered tree

he huddles, head nestled out of the wind

swaying his thin frame ‘mong branches blown free,

desolate landscape, lone bird wonders when

this storm will subside, the sun to emerge.

Snow covers feathers, his beak under wing.

Lifts up his head, storm seems on the verge;

sun breaks through snow sky, he’s ready to sing.

Flies over meadow now coated with snow,

straight to a farmhouse with silos of corn,

scattered, the seeds, they call from below,

landing to feast on this cold sun-filled morn.

Recalls the chill night he spent in the tree,

rejoice the morning, when storm set him free.

Julie A. Dickson

Exeter, NH

Survival

When words escape me like so many dreams

everything changes, different it seems.

Travel upon memory buried in snow,

while drifts blow over wherever I go.

I trip over roots, hidden -- I fall

on my knees but I realize that overall

the whole point of a journey varies;

some may stumble while others tarry,

confused, might wander among the rubble,

pick through detritus that caused this trouble,

reminisce smiling past times when I knew

a trembling voice, from one of a fool.

Isolated, alone in a din,

Ignored or passed over -- turn myself in-

to the fray, if I  write about life,

will they recognize, imagine my strife?

Yes, overcome, I’ve lived onto this age,

earned the right to own all of my rage.

A pass is issued, somewhat of a badge,

a ticket, an entry to lift up this latch.

Open a new door, within my own time –

appreciate brilliance, begin to unwind,

unravel the voices beneath the snow,

whisper survival through words I now know.

Julie A. Dickson

Exeter, NH

Secret Melon

Lying on the floor in the hallway

unseen

I saw grownups in black slacks,

lace collars

a party in my parent’s house

hidden

I wanted sweet cantaloupe melon,

watching

mother cut fruit all afternoon

fruit salad

for guests she said and only smiled

at my request

for a bite of melon, ripe and delicious

wait, she said,

the leftovers, you can have breakfast

I frowned

I crept into the dining room, under the table

reached up

quickly grabbed a piece of melon,

juicy cantaloupe

I popped it quickly into my mouth,

so delicious.

I crawled back to my bed, still tasting,

happily

I went back to sleep now, waiting

for breakfast

Julie A. Dickson

Exeter, NH

Ashes

I know just where my father’s ashes are interred,

but I wonder if I really knew him.

My mother’s ashes were buried next to his,

but while his were in a faux-granite urn,

hers had been dumped, unceremoniously

from a cardboard box directly into the ground,

by my father ten years earlier.

I thought of this atrocity, this role-reversal,

how much my mother hated dirt,

would have preferred the clean sealed urn.

It was he, who would have wanted to be dumped

into the ground or over the lake he loved,

but instead he was locked inside an urn.

Sometimes I wish I could have torn open his urn,

thrusting him to the wind, scooping up the memory

of my mother, to capture her essence

but then I realize that she is more free

than my father will ever be.

Julie A. Dickson

Exeter, NH

Jackie Anderson ----- four Cinquains

DAYBREAK

Daybreak

Sipping warm mug

Silent awakening

Newborn day shining pure white light

Clean slate

---------------------------------------------------------

JOLTED

Jolted

Shocked and shaken

Cruel attack rends my heart

Healing faith revives, I will rise

Stronger

--------------------------------------------------------------

MOVED ON

Moved on

Went your own way

Voice smiling through my phone

Like a visit at home today

My son

BROTHER

Brother

Charms, aggravates

My reaching out falls short

In deep abyss of chasm wide

Love hides