Wednesday, September 4, 2013


Big summer night
No words because the crickets
                          are still alive
New moon, leftover tofu
A month on, my song
                          will be different,
I will be different—
The birth canal says all is forgiven,
Old lessons will all be forgotten


James Owens said...

this seems to me very classical chinese in feeling -- and that is a good thing -- the same calm contemplation of natural cycles with intimations of the the poet's place within them ...

"the birth canal says all is forgiven" -- the year as process ... the crickets will die to make way for snow and then more crickets, and the speaker will be changed, eventually, though more slowly than the crickets, a song different beyond recognition ...

i like the tension between "new moon" and :leftover tofu" ... the coming-into-being and the fading-out-of-being interpenetrate, more a slow wipe across the screen than any abrupt cut ...


Erik Donald France said...

Amen. Samsara. Sayonara~!

the walking man said...

I bet it's like riding a bike and the old lessons will train your muscle memory swiftly.

Every life goes through moments that from the rear view mirror is where you realize the monument of them. Long after the new has become normal.

erin said...

ohhhhh, what james says)))

just yesterday we were having a conversation about memory and forgetfulness. on a radio program there was a man of science, a deep man, who was considering memory. one of his parents has Alzheimer's. he referred to the soul as the seat of memory but i think both memory and forgetfulness work in tandem creating a presence and void dynamic which becomes our living. your poem demonstrates this and more. very very lovely))))

love, "No words because the crickets are still alive"! who might have occasion to speak in such presence?!!