Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Kumamoto Renshi 2010

Connecting through the Voice (The Kumamoto Renshi)

[1]

Let us offer up a song, may the gods
Of these fields bear witness
The gods look down, the landowners
Plant the fields and are glad

(Hiromi)


[2]

The children form circles and play in the forests
Where the leaves of visitor’s language flourish

Even in the land of roots
There are seeds waiting to germinate
Or so my great-grandmother used to say

(Shuntarō)


[3]

the future rising
as does my name red mountain
summit high above

the earth below in darkness
hole the fathers called sheol

soon to be with you
on Aso not Death Mountain
in the other poem

beneath which looms the shadow
of a visionary fish

(Jerome)


[4]

Come, please,
My red, burning fluid!
From my crumbling bosom
Through my chest and arms
To the villages beneath the mountains

Things seen with the eyes
Washed away, burned to ashes
Bring a beginning to this world
Once again after so many times

(Wakako)


[5]

Standing before the diorama
Gazing at the mechanized plumes of smoke and flows of lava
My monthly visitor caught me off guard

There is another me who watches silently
As I let out a sigh of relief

(Yasuhiro)


[6]

What has been planted in this sacred field
Belongs to you
Unmistakably belongs to you

(Hiromi)


[7]

Still within my mother’s womb
I wait for language
The language of those who hate me
The language of those who will love me

(Shuntarō)


[8]

so that he starts again
until the mud
through which he walks

covers his body
starts again but robs him
of his breath

(Jerome)


[9]

Heart half-sized
I have wept, I have laughed that much
I have lived one hundred times more
Thanks to the forces that be

(Wakako)


[10]
Mass is defined by the second law of motion
And is in inverse proportion to acceleration when acted upon by various objects of the same size
But what universal law governs
That elusive object known as the soul . . . ?
I had read exactly that far when
The earthquake came
(Yasuhiro)


[11]

I must have been born to play,
I must have been born to frolic,

(Hiromi)


[12]

yet in his emptiness, his voidness
he is a real man only
when he murders

so in love with death
he leaves me desperate

the more I look into his eyes
I see a dead bull gutted
but a living man

(Jerome)


[13]

It was only a one-act play
Yet over thirty people appeared on stage
There was only a single curtain call
The young actress who played the role of the mute walked home singing

(Shuntarō)


[14]

[lyrics] The truth of silence surrounding
             The lies of language sinks in
                               The clouds listen silently
                               The sea listens silently
             To the farewell whistle resonating
                               Across the pier


(Yasuhiro)


[15]

I can hardly remember you
Though you once cared for me so
Mother, were you here in this world?
Or am I, who think I am alive,
The one seeing you in my dreams?

(Wakako)


[16]

When I was in my prime
With so many lewd liaisons
I left my infant child in my lasciviousness
And slept with many men

(Hiromi)


[17]

—how does she know the time?
—by fits & starts
—and if the time starts running?
—she runs behind it
—then try to pin her down
& hear her squeal
—a word caught in your throat
is still a word

(Jerome)


[18]

Light trembling on the water
What protects the lit up castle
Is the past transformed into legend

“I love the play of light on the water”
I love you who whispered these words

(Shuntarō)


[19]

Abdomen swollen large with hydroperitonia
Breathes in the shadow of the dry sheets
On the television screen of the sickroom
Is the bottom of what was once a lake, now covered with cracks
Scattered over the surface are bits of straw
At which the victims grasped while drowning in the pool of oblivion

(Yasuhiro)


[20]

just then
the pure white thread
descended, its tip slipping
sliding downwards
fervently I prayed I could reach
those glorious fingers in heaven

if only I had not looked back
I would have been nothing
more than a single-minded man

(Wakako)


[21]

Oh, my beloved, darling husband!
If this what you insist upon doing
Every day I will strangle to death
One thousand people from your land!

(Hiromi)


[22]
Pandemonium seeping from an article on the page of the morning news containing all the shocking news
Women’s sobbing leaking between the lines of the story
War cries filling the table of events

Voices packed tightly within the letters
In the voices, there is only breath
Only emptiness discreetly returned to silence
(Yasuhiro)


[23]

Hiragana, katakana, kanji, and western letters
Moving back and forth between the synapses
Of the left hemisphere of my brain
Meanwhile my hand and fingers go on strike
A raptor draws a circle over the satellite dish

(Shuntarō)


[24]

Passing through
Will sweep all illness away, they say
Will change one into infinite blue—
The body whole

(Wakako)


[25]

840 million thoughts
the sutra says
come every night
& overwhelm the sleeper
looking for a place
to hide
for which he writes
his death poem
as a perfect circle


(Jerome)


[26]

Where did you fall from?
Where did you fall from?
Where did you fall from?
Where did you fall from?
Did you really fall?
Did you really really really fall?
From where did you fall?
Did you really fall
From the cliff with the thicket
Of raspberries?

(Hiromi)


[27]

Ladle out the words over and over again
But still they don’t run out
From behind the kettle of quotation
Some sort of tail peeps out
The tanuki self has taken on a disguise

I want to unravel this self of mine
Into the threads of language
And weave them back into a brocaded flag
To hang where I came from in that other world

(Yasuhiro)


[28]

Flying, sitting, walking, sitting, now here
The warmth of the herb tea in my palm
What appeared last night in my dream
And called my name was no doubt a faerie

(Shuntarō)


[29]

The stones in the field
Rearranged in a single night
Tomorrow is the ceremony in which we send off
The soul of the bear we have raised
We put logic to rest
We celebrate the outrageous
The last song remaining
Is our offering
To the world

(Wakako)


[30]

people speak at me
& I don’t understand
except my name & yours
& little words like koko & asoko
& those that aren’t words at all
but sounds remembered
first as sounds
                                 the small nouns
crying faith (he wrote)
what poets always knew
what still astounds

(Jerome)

“Connecting through the Voice”: The Kumamoto Renshi

“Connecting through the Voice”: The Kumamoto Renshi

Close

Connecting through the Voice (The Kumamoto Renshi)

[1]

Let us offer up a song, may the gods
Of these fields bear witness
The gods look down, the landowners
Plant the fields and are glad

(Hiromi)


[2]

The children form circles and play in the forests
Where the leaves of visitor’s language flourish

Even in the land of roots
There are seeds waiting to germinate
Or so my great-grandmother used to say

(Shuntarō)


[3]

the future rising
as does my name red mountain
summit high above

the earth below in darkness
hole the fathers called sheol

soon to be with you
on Aso not Death Mountain
in the other poem

beneath which looms the shadow
of a visionary fish

(Jerome)


[4]

Come, please,
My red, burning fluid!
From my crumbling bosom
Through my chest and arms
To the villages beneath the mountains

Things seen with the eyes
Washed away, burned to ashes
Bring a beginning to this world
Once again after so many times

(Wakako)


[5]

Standing before the diorama
Gazing at the mechanized plumes of smoke and flows of lava
My monthly visitor caught me off guard

There is another me who watches silently
As I let out a sigh of relief

(Yasuhiro)


[6]

What has been planted in this sacred field
Belongs to you
Unmistakably belongs to you

(Hiromi)


[7]

Still within my mother’s womb
I wait for language
The language of those who hate me
The language of those who will love me

(Shuntarō)


[8]

so that he starts again
until the mud
through which he walks

covers his body
starts again but robs him
of his breath

(Jerome)


[9]

Heart half-sized
I have wept, I have laughed that much
I have lived one hundred times more
Thanks to the forces that be

(Wakako)


[10]
Mass is defined by the second law of motion
And is in inverse proportion to acceleration when acted upon by various objects of the same size
But what universal law governs
That elusive object known as the soul . . . ?
I had read exactly that far when
The earthquake came
(Yasuhiro)


[11]

I must have been born to play,
I must have been born to frolic,

(Hiromi)


[12]

yet in his emptiness, his voidness
he is a real man only
when he murders

so in love with death
he leaves me desperate

the more I look into his eyes
I see a dead bull gutted
but a living man

(Jerome)


[13]

It was only a one-act play
Yet over thirty people appeared on stage
There was only a single curtain call
The young actress who played the role of the mute walked home singing

(Shuntarō)


[14]

[lyrics] The truth of silence surrounding
             The lies of language sinks in
                               The clouds listen silently
                               The sea listens silently
             To the farewell whistle resonating
                               Across the pier


(Yasuhiro)


[15]

I can hardly remember you
Though you once cared for me so
Mother, were you here in this world?
Or am I, who think I am alive,
The one seeing you in my dreams?

(Wakako)


[16]

When I was in my prime
With so many lewd liaisons
I left my infant child in my lasciviousness
And slept with many men

(Hiromi)


[17]

—how does she know the time?
—by fits & starts
—and if the time starts running?
—she runs behind it
—then try to pin her down
& hear her squeal
—a word caught in your throat
is still a word

(Jerome)


[18]

Light trembling on the water
What protects the lit up castle
Is the past transformed into legend

“I love the play of light on the water”
I love you who whispered these words

(Shuntarō)


[19]

Abdomen swollen large with hydroperitonia
Breathes in the shadow of the dry sheets
On the television screen of the sickroom
Is the bottom of what was once a lake, now covered with cracks
Scattered over the surface are bits of straw
At which the victims grasped while drowning in the pool of oblivion

(Yasuhiro)


[20]

just then
the pure white thread
descended, its tip slipping
sliding downwards
fervently I prayed I could reach
those glorious fingers in heaven

if only I had not looked back
I would have been nothing
more than a single-minded man

(Wakako)


[21]

Oh, my beloved, darling husband!
If this what you insist upon doing
Every day I will strangle to death
One thousand people from your land!

(Hiromi)


[22]
Pandemonium seeping from an article on the page of the morning news containing all the shocking news
Women’s sobbing leaking between the lines of the story
War cries filling the table of events

Voices packed tightly within the letters
In the voices, there is only breath
Only emptiness discreetly returned to silence
(Yasuhiro)


[23]

Hiragana, katakana, kanji, and western letters
Moving back and forth between the synapses
Of the left hemisphere of my brain
Meanwhile my hand and fingers go on strike
A raptor draws a circle over the satellite dish

(Shuntarō)


[24]

Passing through
Will sweep all illness away, they say
Will change one into infinite blue—
The body whole

(Wakako)


[25]

840 million thoughts
the sutra says
come every night
& overwhelm the sleeper
looking for a place
to hide
for which he writes
his death poem
as a perfect circle


(Jerome)


[26]

Where did you fall from?
Where did you fall from?
Where did you fall from?
Where did you fall from?
Did you really fall?
Did you really really really fall?
From where did you fall?
Did you really fall
From the cliff with the thicket
Of raspberries?

(Hiromi)


[27]

Ladle out the words over and over again
But still they don’t run out
From behind the kettle of quotation
Some sort of tail peeps out
The tanuki self has taken on a disguise

I want to unravel this self of mine
Into the threads of language
And weave them back into a brocaded flag
To hang where I came from in that other world

(Yasuhiro)


[28]

Flying, sitting, walking, sitting, now here
The warmth of the herb tea in my palm
What appeared last night in my dream
And called my name was no doubt a faerie

(Shuntarō)


[29]

The stones in the field
Rearranged in a single night
Tomorrow is the ceremony in which we send off
The soul of the bear we have raised
We put logic to rest
We celebrate the outrageous
The last song remaining
Is our offering
To the world

(Wakako)


[30]

people speak at me
& I don’t understand
except my name & yours
& little words like koko & asoko
& those that aren’t words at all
but sounds remembered
first as sounds
                                 the small nouns
crying faith (he wrote)
what poets always knew
what still astounds

(Jerome)

Connecting through the Voice (The Kumamoto Renshi)

[1]

Let us offer up a song, may the gods
Of these fields bear witness
The gods look down, the landowners
Plant the fields and are glad

(Hiromi)


[2]

The children form circles and play in the forests
Where the leaves of visitor’s language flourish

Even in the land of roots
There are seeds waiting to germinate
Or so my great-grandmother used to say

(Shuntarō)


[3]

the future rising
as does my name red mountain
summit high above

the earth below in darkness
hole the fathers called sheol

soon to be with you
on Aso not Death Mountain
in the other poem

beneath which looms the shadow
of a visionary fish

(Jerome)


[4]

Come, please,
My red, burning fluid!
From my crumbling bosom
Through my chest and arms
To the villages beneath the mountains

Things seen with the eyes
Washed away, burned to ashes
Bring a beginning to this world
Once again after so many times

(Wakako)


[5]

Standing before the diorama
Gazing at the mechanized plumes of smoke and flows of lava
My monthly visitor caught me off guard

There is another me who watches silently
As I let out a sigh of relief

(Yasuhiro)


[6]

What has been planted in this sacred field
Belongs to you
Unmistakably belongs to you

(Hiromi)


[7]

Still within my mother’s womb
I wait for language
The language of those who hate me
The language of those who will love me

(Shuntarō)


[8]

so that he starts again
until the mud
through which he walks

covers his body
starts again but robs him
of his breath

(Jerome)


[9]

Heart half-sized
I have wept, I have laughed that much
I have lived one hundred times more
Thanks to the forces that be

(Wakako)


[10]
Mass is defined by the second law of motion
And is in inverse proportion to acceleration when acted upon by various objects of the same size
But what universal law governs
That elusive object known as the soul . . . ?
I had read exactly that far when
The earthquake came
(Yasuhiro)


[11]

I must have been born to play,
I must have been born to frolic,

(Hiromi)


[12]

yet in his emptiness, his voidness
he is a real man only
when he murders

so in love with death
he leaves me desperate

the more I look into his eyes
I see a dead bull gutted
but a living man

(Jerome)


[13]

It was only a one-act play
Yet over thirty people appeared on stage
There was only a single curtain call
The young actress who played the role of the mute walked home singing

(Shuntarō)


[14]

[lyrics] The truth of silence surrounding
             The lies of language sinks in
                               The clouds listen silently
                               The sea listens silently
             To the farewell whistle resonating
                               Across the pier


(Yasuhiro)


[15]

I can hardly remember you
Though you once cared for me so
Mother, were you here in this world?
Or am I, who think I am alive,
The one seeing you in my dreams?

(Wakako)


[16]

When I was in my prime
With so many lewd liaisons
I left my infant child in my lasciviousness
And slept with many men

(Hiromi)


[17]

—how does she know the time?
—by fits & starts
—and if the time starts running?
—she runs behind it
—then try to pin her down
& hear her squeal
—a word caught in your throat
is still a word

(Jerome)


[18]

Light trembling on the water
What protects the lit up castle
Is the past transformed into legend

“I love the play of light on the water”
I love you who whispered these words

(Shuntarō)


[19]

Abdomen swollen large with hydroperitonia
Breathes in the shadow of the dry sheets
On the television screen of the sickroom
Is the bottom of what was once a lake, now covered with cracks
Scattered over the surface are bits of straw
At which the victims grasped while drowning in the pool of oblivion

(Yasuhiro)


[20]

just then
the pure white thread
descended, its tip slipping
sliding downwards
fervently I prayed I could reach
those glorious fingers in heaven

if only I had not looked back
I would have been nothing
more than a single-minded man

(Wakako)


[21]

Oh, my beloved, darling husband!
If this what you insist upon doing
Every day I will strangle to death
One thousand people from your land!

(Hiromi)


[22]
Pandemonium seeping from an article on the page of the morning news containing all the shocking news
Women’s sobbing leaking between the lines of the story
War cries filling the table of events

Voices packed tightly within the letters
In the voices, there is only breath
Only emptiness discreetly returned to silence
(Yasuhiro)


[23]

Hiragana, katakana, kanji, and western letters
Moving back and forth between the synapses
Of the left hemisphere of my brain
Meanwhile my hand and fingers go on strike
A raptor draws a circle over the satellite dish

(Shuntarō)


[24]

Passing through
Will sweep all illness away, they say
Will change one into infinite blue—
The body whole

(Wakako)


[25]

840 million thoughts
the sutra says
come every night
& overwhelm the sleeper
looking for a place
to hide
for which he writes
his death poem
as a perfect circle


(Jerome)


[26]

Where did you fall from?
Where did you fall from?
Where did you fall from?
Where did you fall from?
Did you really fall?
Did you really really really fall?
From where did you fall?
Did you really fall
From the cliff with the thicket
Of raspberries?

(Hiromi)


[27]

Ladle out the words over and over again
But still they don’t run out
From behind the kettle of quotation
Some sort of tail peeps out
The tanuki self has taken on a disguise

I want to unravel this self of mine
Into the threads of language
And weave them back into a brocaded flag
To hang where I came from in that other world

(Yasuhiro)


[28]

Flying, sitting, walking, sitting, now here
The warmth of the herb tea in my palm
What appeared last night in my dream
And called my name was no doubt a faerie

(Shuntarō)


[29]

The stones in the field
Rearranged in a single night
Tomorrow is the ceremony in which we send off
The soul of the bear we have raised
We put logic to rest
We celebrate the outrageous
The last song remaining
Is our offering
To the world

(Wakako)


[30]

people speak at me
& I don’t understand
except my name & yours
& little words like koko & asoko
& those that aren’t words at all
but sounds remembered
first as sounds
                                 the small nouns
crying faith (he wrote)
what poets always knew
what still astounds

(Jerome)
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