The Bamboo Hut Summer 2019
photograph Š Steve Wilkinson
a journal of tanshi
The Bamboo Hut Summer 2019 published by The Bamboo Hut edited by Steve Wilkinson Š The Bamboo Hut 2019
upon publication all rights revert to the respective authors
The Bamboo Hut
Summer 2019
The Bamboo Hut
Summer 2019
Anna Goluba Windy day Spinning, like crazy, Leaves of the green tea Raindrop Freely flows Down the pane... I hang onto it Tightly Our journey Apart from Different plans and maps We all just Follow the Star
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The Bamboo Hut
Summer 2019
Tony Steven Williams our busker orchestrates the square guitar case altar fills with offerings from bending backs flotsam— refugees drift between tides a beach in the distance glistens under stars the beggar holds out her bowl dark eyes shine through the dust of a Mumbai street
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The Bamboo Hut
Summer 2019
Paweł Markiewicz Flight of the wild geese the tame ducks are waiting for my kind dreamy cats it is infinitely tender as If Kant's star fell
early spring in thaw first wild goose looked at charming Apollonian cats Kant's philosophy in the shooting stars of tenderness a star belongs to the muse a butterfly is resting my eternity our garden full of pears and pure melancholy bee dancing in air eternal melancholy dew in the calyx as If Kant charmed muses the rainbow over the orchard
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The Bamboo Hut Theresa A. Cancro lotus pond... a frog jumps over itself steamed rice clings to my chopsticks... whispered gossip cat prints crossing the sandbar summer solstice a few coins for the beggar's bowl... pockmarked moon fluttering ginkgo leaves... the baby takes her first steps
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Summer 2019
The Bamboo Hut Brett Dixon “Missing” searching for John— we follow a muddy trail marred by old needles; I pray we have not seen a smoking gun.
"Resurrection" a fallen leaf reborn in the cold morning wind-subway graffiti calls for love in bold orange.
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Summer 2019
The Bamboo Hut David He Zhuanglang the new notebook she gave me as a birthday present... I find no words for her affection in silence we departďźŒ down the willow rain runs drop by drop the lake turns pink with sunrise a girl's tiny hand seeks lotus roots summer heat a cuckoo's song soaked in the mist Zen lake... a wild duck swims across the clouds
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Summer 2019
The Bamboo Hut John McManus windswept pines an old man unrolls his prayer mat stone goddess the taste of rainwater from her cupped hands takeaway menus the waiter turns one into a butterfly
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Summer 2019
The Bamboo Hut Pat Davis winter sea the old salt's one word comment worry stone the warmth in my pocket after chemo the shuffle of his hiking boots
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Summer 2019
The Bamboo Hut Bryan Rickert slow falling snow the softness of kitten fur river trip our meandering conversation fog at sunrise the slow reveal of pines
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Summer 2019
The Bamboo Hut Tiffany Shaw-Diaz moment of peace just me and autumn’s hush fearless I let the snow fall upon my tongue newfound hope hints of green bathe the woodland joyful noise the crunch of earth beneath my sole
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Summer 2019
The Bamboo Hut Michael H Lester If I Could Freeze a Moment in Time dressed in violet redolent of the scent of watercress she leaves dainty footprints in the frothy white sand overhead screeching seagulls swoop and circle in a cloud-speckled sky of sun-drenched blue sailboats of every rainbow color dot the horizon and the deep emerald green of an endless tropical sea a cool breeze jostles the slender palms gently swaying to the hypnotic notes of a distant flute I daydream of mermaids and sailors at anchor coconut milk and mango and your hand in mine
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Summer 2019
The Bamboo Hut Michael H Lester & Joy McCall rumbling over fallen fruits and nuts to escape wasps the hedgewitch shifts her wheelchair into high gear the wasps follow down the winding lane to the end she leaves them there, happy in a blackberry patch now that I live so far from the old place do the woodpigeons still circle over the orchard? the woodpigeons pecking at fruit tree sprouts look about for a sign of the hedgewitch around the old orchard house
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Summer 2019
The Bamboo Hut Joy McCall Normal for Norfolk reading verses I wrote when young and finding I'm still liking them I wonder where that young girl went, that poet I once was? revisiting Ray Bradbury his Swedish mum, English dad, descended from a hanged witch no wonder I relate! the Norfolk hares are dying out no brown life racing round green fields no March madness (except my own) no long ears, listening these days my head is full of sheep woolly, but quiet, slow and warm my favourite of all God's creatures ... blankets, mittens, scarves, socks the copper pot, the milking stool what stories could their shadows tell? the tired milkmaid, the coughing miner the dark side of loveliness he says 'shake the poems loose from your skull' and I see my grave with words coming out like grass shoots up from the sacred ground sugar beet and cannabis growing side by side in these fields you have to smile, in these parts it's Normal for Norfolk
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Summer 2019
The Bamboo Hut Eva Joan sometimes the sky’s too far too deep.... too dark for a night sometimes you’re the sky 3:00 a.m..... quiet music still sounds in the darkness out of my radio.... i find no sleep the search for repose is in vain as long as I cannot find you behind my eyelids sensuality swaying marram grass the distant moon
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Summer 2019
The Bamboo Hut Ani Ivanova proud poplars stripes of black earth along a highway yellow leaf – an eye in the crown of the coming fall torn off stones from the mountain tears in the river
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Summer 2019
The Bamboo Hut Terri L. French skyglow— grandmother tells us the stories of stars winter solstice cutting the wick to shorten the flame Joe-pye weed a field full of used-to-be(e)s
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Summer 2019
The Bamboo Hut Ben Moeller-Gaa spring oak the red-on-red of buds and cardinals a squirrel within a squirrel within a puddle super moon so bright in the dead opossum’s eyes
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Summer 2019
The Bamboo Hut
Summer 2019
Paul Callus & Karen O’Leary
waves swish eroding our footprints in the yielding sand he takes her fork leaving mine empty
crinkled leaves... in my dreams I see smooth hands a summer melody lingers in my heart
Karen O’Leary under the dust buffalo bones… a dying nation
Paul Callus not indebted to a gardener’s whim wild flowers
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The Bamboo Hut Hifsa Ashraf
in the dust of war rubble I inhale the deep pain of my ancestors homecoming on my back cawing crows good omen a crow feathers wreath on the front door
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Summer 2019
The Bamboo Hut Skaidrite Stelzer
summer’s end an orange peel twists inward wolf moon dimming the candle of the stars discarded between two graves a daisy
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Summer 2019
The Bamboo Hut Roberta Beach Jacobson half noticing the half moon heated argument in the forest she points out the hemlock At highway junction wondering why we parted
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Summer 2019
The Bamboo Hut Christopher Corriddi
A Sunday’s Walk Silk Beach gentle waves crash and skim the sand gently disruptive footprints mark the plane Blink. Gone.
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Summer 2019
The Bamboo Hut
Summer 2019
Steve Wilkinson dew drops in the morning sun – how quickly I fade into sadness sudden showera moth flies deeper into the woods eudaimonia – a gentle rain falls on the flower bed wisps of cloud hang in the sky a fish breaks the water's sur / face
stone of regret I cast it into the water and watch it s i n k
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The Bamboo Hut Frances Carleton and Marilyn Humbert Indigo Skies
breath steams under indigo sky throat burns as I think of you fifteen thousand miles away every way I look the landscape barren my life’s journey a corrugated track dappled sunlight through the oak canopy bluebells amongst the lush green memories of making love this morning masses of roiling clouds blot out the sun – our past misplaced in gauzy-layers of time rain falls wisping on the breeze evening pinks 24
Summer 2019
The Bamboo Hut give way to darkness cold and lonely in England around the campfire this diamond studded eve’ campfire hissing ‌ the shadow of your hand covering mine
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Summer 2019
The Bamboo Hut Marilyn Humbert & Laura Davis
Heading Home love letters in a black lacquer box— hope lingers on each page promises and tears-betrayal over the fence neighbours talk of kids we never had rendezvous the lovers disturbed by footsteps muddy prints on the forest trail side by side heading home in the fading light arms entwined
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Summer 2019
The Bamboo Hut Laura Davis & Marilyn Humbert Huddle Closer childhood home left to the weather and time— falling to pieces when our mother leaves hot winds scatter charcoal and ash we sift through burnt remains watched by a gang of crows twilight showers dusky wood swallows huddle closer... won't you lay your head on my pillow tonight his whispers melt my resolve ‌ this man dangerous as thin ice beneath fallen leaves the sweetness of cotton candy words soon dissolves... my lover has flown, 27
Summer 2019
The Bamboo Hut a screech owl lingers yesterday from our attic window we watched the moon’s slow track across star-filled sky
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Summer 2019
The Bamboo Hut Marilyn Humbert & Julianne Jameson Through the Window under the oak’s wizened branches I plant multi-coloured petunias between mossy roots my granddaughter refuses to wear five-toed socks … they are too weird hidden behind large tri-lobed leaves many gourds variegated twisted sculptures I watch a white heron motionless at the water’s edge twin statues wings spread drifting on thermals five kites searching above 29
Summer 2019
The Bamboo Hut ploughed paddocks my train whizzes by ‌ I join a lone oarsman on vast still waters through valleys mountain tunnels the iron horse bolts towards the sea taking me home
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Summer 2019
The Bamboo Hut Tim Lenton Compline Standing on the rooftop head against the pillar I watch distant hills where stars dance and strange sounds echo There is ice in the air and in the forecasts: without movement, the earth will die and so will I The night is long: even the prophets have gone to bed and the dust of death surrounds me The darkness is hard to take night after night, and all nights become one out here in the high country Yes, I am a watchman and a prophet too if truth be told: I stand at the crossroads Once again I see movement in the hills 31
Summer 2019
The Bamboo Hut black against black shadow against shadow I think I see you in the distance, but your sudden shape beside me becomes wood and walls, and it is night again Pictures in my mind drown out the voice of the trumpet: I watch for dawn when there will be no pictures no hate and no lies, no going out and no coming in No secrets, because there will be too much light I ache for the morning when warmth returns and everything changes, even my life, my unimaginable dreams
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Summer 2019
The Bamboo Hut Keith Nunes Lit Up All the light bulbs in town holding firm In their performance of Lit Art Showing the lighting of lives The illumination of the worded page Is such a magnificent position to hold There above us all looking lightly down Shadow Toe-to-toe outstretched The daylight shadow Vanishes at noon When shadows stand upright Against their pillar-bodies Extract meaning/absorb sensation
Marbles At primary school we played marbles at lunchtime We all had a few Battled to win just one more One Christmas my parents gave me A big bag of new marbles I lost interest in marbles
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Summer 2019
The Bamboo Hut Ramona Linke and Helga Stania Holograms strangers enter the stage of the haunted house in the moon’s shadow her hologram a mayfly nudges the mobile the swaying margin of her self-certitude inner garden ... the gate ajar
Pink Noise the sand-mandala washes round his ankles lingering at the edge of the Mare Humorum children romp about with the Akita puppy pink noise ___ father's rosary in her hands above Moorish gardens silence expands 34
Summer 2019
The Bamboo Hut Chen-ou Liu last glimpse of the winter moon ... an old man with a shopping cart enters my broken dream a glint of light on the broken wine glass I sink myself into the darkness of this winter night
ceasefire a hand in the rubble gathering crows
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Summer 2019
The Bamboo Hut Dave Read snow melts on warm cement ‌ second date country roads ‌ the sun roof fills with starlight valley mist the river turns in on itself
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Summer 2019
The Bamboo Hut Ruth Asch bedraggled bower tangled ribbons of birdsong lonely shelter Snake plunges, sword dives, a fish flies and lies gasping: gray heron hunting.
Anna Cates mothball scent in a dusty attic all our yesterdays alpine crag a hint of goat’s milk in the clouds seminary . . . a janitor dusting corridors of light
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Summer 2019
The Bamboo Hut Ruben James
Pouring out School gates Buoyant or blue They haven’t a clue Who they’ll Love at 22
Killed 25 conversations Without a word Without waiting To hear the stagnant silence That follows Startling roodness
Warren Gossett leaf drift . . . we settle on a burial plot ancient graveyard the wind and a thrush visiting stones home after years the stranger in me driving the streets 38
Summer 2019
The Bamboo Hut Richard Stevenson the menu offers goat’s head soup gotta have it, right? what self-respecting Stones fan wouldn’t? the secret, ladies is the cloth donut embedded in the Afro forget models’ magazine walk walk with a tray of water glasses bedside check: knife, jar of gasoline wooden matches hunk of rebar under the bed
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Summer 2019
The Bamboo Hut Kenneth Salzmann guitarrรณn chords night sky mariachi moon jacarandas whisper deep purple secrets mexico in bloom pelicans settle winter chill ripples on the lake
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Summer 2019
The Bamboo Hut Cassandra Eubanks Flux When the land you're on shifts The person who loved you doesn’t Friendlies turn hostile Your body splinters into flinty shards And the future is inconceivable What do you do with your hands? She left me one insipid day Like a motorcycle passenger Quietly dropping off the back
It’s raining heavily But the cats and dogs That came down in the last shower Are pretending they know nothing about it
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Summer 2019
The Bamboo Hut
Summer 2019
Muskaan Ahuja a sigh... throwing a stone into the lake a sigh... a lazy day watching the laundry whirl with the summer winds concentrating again — are they the same crickets or different, singing again? writing again — a butterfly passes by, still no thoughts...
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