June Rains [Haiku]

house & garden
glisten from a soaking
of June rains

To Macbeth or Hamlet Through Life [Common Meter]

Ambition is where danger lies,
and, thus, Macbeth's world burned.
But indecision 's no great friend,
or so Hamlet had learned.

Don't let the fates lead you headlong
into murderous rage,
but don't let your response to strife
grow too feeble with age.

DAILY PHOTO: Tree in the Temple of Confucius, Beijing

Taken in the Beijing Temple of Confucius in the summer of 2008

Quiet Moments of Buddha Time [Poem]

in quiet moments
of Buddha time
i watch the world
like a man who's blind

i sing my songs 
like a drunken sage
and offer curses
as though free of rage

DAILY PHOTO: Hawa Mahal

Taken in March of 2020 in Jaipur

High Tree Hawk [Tanka]

the high tree hawk
scans for prey from lofty heights;
the rat scurries -
unaware of far-flung foes,
but side to wall all the same

BOOK REVIEW: The Beats: A Very Short Introduction by David Sterritt

The Beats: A Very Short IntroductionThe Beats: A Very Short Introduction by David Sterritt
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

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This is the most fascinating book I’ve read in the VSI (Very Short Introductions) series, and I read a lot of these books as a means to mainline the gist of various academic subjects. I should point out that the subject matter is more colorful than the average scholarly topic. The Beats were a 1950’s American countercultural literary movement that some may confuse with the hippies of the 60’s, but which was different in many ways. As is emphasized in the book, the Beats were more about revolutions from within than they were about upending society. In that sense, they might have more in common with the Transcendentalists (i.e. Emerson, Thoreau, etc.) than the hippies. That said, some Beats did flow pretty smoothly from one movement to the next, and were both interested in revolution from within and without – most notably, Allen Ginsberg.

The first thing that one finds compelling is the biographical sketches of key Beat figures (i.e. chapters 3 and 4 on Beat novelists and poets, respectively.) A disturbing number of Beats lived tragically short lives, owing to drugs, alcohol (e.g. Kerouac,) and sometimes just being around a violent contrarian. Even the Beats who lived long lives had their share of outlandishness, such as William Burroughs killing his wife, Joan Vollmer, in an ill-fate William Tell imitation. (Those who know Burroughs from later in his career may wonder why he even had a wife, being gay and all. That’s just one of the ways that hidden, latent, and repressed homosexuality plays out as tragedy in the Beat story of the socially conservative 1950’s.)

The second thing I found absorbing was the discussion of how these writers and poets made art. Like the aforementioned Transcendentalists, the Beats drew heavily on Eastern philosophies and psychologies – most notably Buddhism, and Zen, in particular. Beat authors not only looked to the East for subject matter and aesthetics, but also to help them achieve the spontaneity and nowness associated with Zen. However, this wasn’t wholesale conversion to Buddhism, it remained a uniquely American strain, and also sought to draw inspiration from that most American of arts, Jazz.

If you’re interested in the Beats or their approach to writing, I’d highly recommend reading this book.


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Visionary Poets [Free Verse]

Blake had visions of angels
&
Ginsberg had visions of Blake

I'm sure some 
angelheaded post-Hippie hipster 
has had, or will have had,
 visions of Ginsberg,

But who are Blake's angels hallucinating?

Maybe the angels have no eyes
and have
visionless visions 
of visionary poets?

DAILY PHOTO: Warm Light of the Setting Sun on the Autumn Treetops

Taken in the Fall of 2021 in Atlanta

Cemetery Walk [Free Verse]

And in the end,
the dead are still
and the graveyard's quiet
is not so bad.

The monuments weather;
in due time,
letters become less crisp
&
dates become debatable.

A clean read means
there maybe someone 
left to mourn.

And fresh flowers mean that someone
has tracked their melancholy 
through the place,
and the air feels heavier,
and my mind feels heavier.

And I read names:
familiar & not,
popular & not.

I read names to distract me
from thoughts of my own dead --
to avoid tracking my own melancholy
through the place.

For, you see,
I've brought no flowers.