Friday, January 26, 2018

Marija Says

Today at the YMCA gym, E. introduced himself to us on the basis of the White Beard Connection. We had a long talk about life, and Hungary where he spent half his life, coming here with little English and getting a job as wheelchair/gurney pusher in a hospital. His brother was a high-wire acrobat and went back to Hungary where his line of work was more plentiful.
Thinking about this part of Europe and thus about wars, which have been so plentiful there (wars of which we are now more conscious again in these very peculiar times) reminded me of this powerful poem by Jean Pedrick, one of the founding women of Alice James Books (look it up!) If she were still among us, I think she would have been marching last week.


Marija Says

Grandmother said, they come from the east.oday
on horses. Watch the plain there
for the long cloud, thicker than smoke.
Hide what you can, potatoes, turnips,
anything that will keep, nothing to call
the bees. Then filthen and uglify yourself.
Roll with the swine until you retch, I beg you.

Mother said, they come from the north
like giant insects, beetlebacks on the feet
of millipedes. Whatever obstructs, they mount
and topple.When the ground shakes, when the crows
scatter, do everything she said. The food. The pigs.

They came from the sky. The pig exploded.
I was pasted with it. Even so, grew up, grew old.


Jean Pedrick
Mitteleuropa; poems
Small Poetry Press, Pleasant Hill, CA,1992, page 9.

Tuesday, January 16, 2018

One Foot Forward; honey and onion

Just went out for the mail, which was a note from my baby sister
and a book of writing prompts written by Peter Murphy.
 above are last year's ducks, but I hope they are still among
the ones that are here this year.   The life of a duck
often takes place in groups of ducks 
that look very much like each other. 
jhhymasfoto


In yesterday's mail, the book I had ordered by Chana Bloch,
The Moon is Almost Full, Autumn House Press, 2017.
And the first poem in the book reminded me of my blog
and my hopes for this year.


Yom Asal, Yom Basal

                    One day honey, one day onion.   
                                                              --Arabic saying

In every maybe, the fear of yes.
In every promise, a shattered glass.

For every portion a cutting edge.
For every rift a slippery bridge.

In every hope some pickling salt.
In every bungle a touch of guilt.

Unto every plan God's ringing laughter.
Unto every death a morning after.

                              Chana Bloch

The design of this is simply stunning to me! As I examine the structure, I see more and more design. Two line rhyming stanzas, each line in two parts, as is the epigraph. Try to make a structure for your own poem!