Partridge Sky

Partridge Sky

forest groves cut off mountain dawn, bamboo hides the walls,

cicadas’ hubbub fades in grass by the small pond—

white birds appear reeling & reeling again through the sky,

lotus shines vermilion, its delicate scent on the water—

past the cottages,

near the ancient city,

I stroll quietly on goosefoot cane, turning to the oblique light—

thanks to yesterday’s midnight rain

I get another cool day in this drifting life

Translation by Jack Hayes

© 2017

based on Su Shi: 鷓鴣天

zhè gū tiān

Many thanks as always to Sheila Graham-Smith for her helpful suggestions.

Image links to its source on Wiki Commons:

“Autumn Skies Part”: Guo Xi. Song Dynasty – Public domain

5 Phases of the October Moon

1. new moon

traffic looks stalled under the Fremont Bridge arch

but it’s far off through rain & the train window

black river’s a one-way mirror for the sky

where the moon must float, absorbing gray moisture

2. waxing crescent

the sky’s undecided--half hour after

blue, half hour before black--but the train might

arrive on schedule under gold station lights:

the crescent’s blurred above angled power lines

3. half moon

cattails & vetch thrive at the parking lot’s edge

where this late afternoon blends shadow & sun—

the yellow clapboard walls align slanted light,

but not slanted light off the divided moon

4. waxing gibbous

streetlight photons cut across the avenue,

glimmer between the birch leaves, an electric

nest; here come the headlights, flying two by two:

moon’s belly swells ripe in an unpeopled sky

5. full moon

the taijitu sign glows black & white against

a stucco building; people are driving home,

lights approaching from all dimensions; how can

this moon be both a mirror & an orphan

Jack Hayes

© 2017

This completes the yearlong cycle of moon quatrains, & also officially signals the completion of the Sunflower Sky manuscript & 101 Portland Moons. Stay tuned for publication information.

September Moon

(8 quatrains)

1. new moon

the clothesline shadow sharpens on white clapboards:

the wooden pins & dish towels float static

between lilac’s silhouette & the window:

sun crescent at the moon’s invisible edge

2. waxing crescent

crickets babble like invisible water

from all directions at once; white headlights flow

east-west, almost steady; afloat in heaven’s

black river: the crescent moon, luminous leaf

3. half moon

the smears where plums dropped to the concrete grow darker

where black plum leaves screen the streetlights; white roses

flank the dim sidewalk, but it’s clear they’ve gone past—

half moon in nameless purple sky: gaze elsewhere

4. waxing gibbous

kitchen light walks through the backdoor screen, stretches

out on the swing chair a low ginkgo bough holds

up—nothing else is stirring, not even that

moon half hidden in the ginkgo’s higher limbs

 

5. full moon

that sconce light on the sky blue wall shines inside

the picture window along with the porch light

across the avenue; in the backyard the

moon burns incandescent yellow by itself

 

6. waning gibbous

electric crimson roses climb the stop sign,

but the blooms don’t seem to listen; sunflowers

bask in light off clapboards: beside a building

made of windows, the waning moon hangs heavy

7. last quarter

clouds at the horizon are such as they are,

far west of the red-lettered gas station sign—

doubtful we’ll comprehend them in this lifetime—

the half moon’s vanishing in more than one sense

8. waning crescent

that flash of a small white plane overhead; I

mistook it for the moon, but it turns north—two

cabbage whites thread through a garden that’s gone past—

this crescent’s a paler cloud, off by itself

Jack Hayes

© 2017

Gitimalya

Welcome to another edition of the Sunday music series.

We continue our September feature on composer Toru Takemitsu with a version of his 1974 piece “Gitimalya” (sub-titled “A Bouquet of Songs”). “Gitimalya” is scored for marimba & orchestra; here the marimba is played by Luigi Gaggero, with the accompaniment of the Orchester der Komischen Oper Berlin.

There’s a lovely & brief write up about this composition at Allmusic, which can be found at this link.

Hope you enjoy it.

Image links to its source on Wiki Commons:

“Stage for the presentation of the album "A Bonsai Garden" by Brian Banks, Musical Wednesdays program within the week.” Photo by Wiki user Fraguando (link provided is empty), who makes it available under the Creative CommonsAttribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported license.

Time & the River

(Eastbank Esplanade: 9/2/17)

green river like evening air stretching its

hands between the maples beside a distant

river—mother would recognize it in oils,

a canvas I could picture but didn’t paint—

but it’s afternoon & water has little

to do with this solid state blue sky; liquid

fragments stitched with boat wakes & memories &

glimpses in the direction this current flows

◦

the pigeons & starlings feeding on bread crumbs

strewn by park benches are skittish in the heat—

the scrub jay perched on the galvanized railing

turns & turns again, darts to the madrona’s

foliage—a pair of Canada geese on

a sinking log below the bramble cascade

stretch wings, preen in unison; under Burnside

bridge other geese move on indigo shadows

◦

I’m not young; the motorboat churns downriver,

bow lifted; a paddleboat moseys past those

floating geese, but the geese don’t stir; you’re standing

in sunlight, holding the dog on her leash in

a photograph in my mind that’s also you

standing by the railing above green green flow:

a freight train processes west on the Steel Bridge,

its passing infinite for those few minutes

Jack Hayes

© 2017

A Flock Descends Into the Pentagonal Garden

 

We return with music for your Sunday, & continue with our September feature on composer Toru Takemitsu.

Today’s selection is the Bournemouth Symphony Orchestra’s rendition of Takemitsu’s 1977 composition, “A Flock Descends Into the Pentagonal Garden”. Gene Tyranny, writing for the Allmusic site, described the composer’s inspiration as follows:

This beautifully titled composition for orchestra was inspired by a dream in which the composer saw a flock of white birds, led by a single black bird swirling around and then descending into a pentagonal or star-shaped garden. The garden, however, turned out to be the star on the back of artist Marcel Duchamp's head in the famous photograph by Man Ray.

I’d encourage you to read the entire Allmusic entry on “A Flock Descends Into the Pentagonal Garden”, which can be found at the link given above, as well as the essay on the piece at this link.

Hope you enjoy the music.

Image links to its source on Wiki Commons:

“A painting  of birds and  flowers”: Kitayama Kangan(1767 - 1801). Circa 1800.

Public domain.

And don’t tell me anything

 
And don’t tell me anything

And don’t tell me anything,

that someone can kill perfectly,

since, sweating ink,

someone does all he can, don’t tell me…

We’ll come back, gentlemen, to see ourselves with apples,

the creature will pass by late,

Aristotle’s expression armed

with grand wooden hearts,

and that of Heraclitus grafted onto that of Marx,

that of the gentle pealing roughly…

It’s what my throat told me:

someone can kill perfectly.

Gentlemen,

kind sirs, we’ll come back without parcels;

until then I demand, will demand of my frailty

the day’s stress, which,

as I see, was already waiting for me on my bed.

And I ask my hat for memory’s ill-fated analogy,

because sometimes I assume my immense mournfulness with success,

because sometimes I drown in my neighbor’s voice,

and endure

numbering the years on kernels of corn,

brushing off my clothes to the a dead man’s tune,

or sitting drunk in my coffin…

César Vallejo, “Y no me digan nada”

Translation by Jack Hayes

© 2017

Image links to its source on Wiki Commons:

“Héraclite” (“Heraclitus”): Johannes Moreelse; circa 1630.

Public domain