The Bamboo Hut Spring 2018 Journal of tanshi
Edited by Steve Wilkinson
The Bamboo Hut
Spring/Summer 2018
“The Poems Start Here�
Love never fails even though the stars grow old and die.
1
The Bamboo Hut Joy McCall
he finds no end of company on these once-lonesome country roads things that rustle in fallen leaves geese, crows and good neighbours for a moment he falls silent then he speaks her name, nothing more and it is one low note sounding from a single tuned string the cedar box he made himself holds the heavy patchwork quilts that keep her warm through the cold night while hail taps and snow falls he laughs at crows in the bare oaks starlings in the green shrubbery the quiet cold land where he walks gathering strength for spring wintertime, the year has ended the old love, so long away comes to the door; the fire is lit, the house fills with light and song
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Spring/Summer 2018
The Bamboo Hut
Spring/Summer 2018
Pere Risteski a wind opposite another blows
cloudlessness gathered around the sun
Robert Beveridge Cerulean The cloudless blue of your eyes the only horizon I need
Forgotten Direction The beautiful fingerprints you've left burned into my chest are maps: the shortcuts you alone take into my thoughts
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The Bamboo Hut Rachel Sutcliffe
funeral home my hand on hers one last time
a bare bulb above the unmade bed this silence
origami class I fold up my tension
pavement puddles the toddler meets his upside down self
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Spring/Summer 2018
The Bamboo Hut
Spring/Summer 2018
Frances Carleton (fc) & Marilyn Humbert (mh) Candle Flicker in the distance lone streetlight beckons too close fairy wings flicker to false lunar light fc palm fronds line the pathway homeward at the T-intersection fireflies flash a warning mh speeding car turns the corner kangaroo on the verge eating a nasty surprise for both fc howling sirens blue strobes glaring another statistic of an incident on a rain-washed road mh the joey lifted with care from pouch eyes closed and pink lips still sucking dead teat I'm now it's mother fc a heartbeat flutters fighting for life the candle flame flares bright then fades mh
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The Bamboo Hut
Spring/Summer 2018
Marilyn Humbert (mh) & Andrew Howe (ah) This Dappled Life a quince tree laden with rosy cups guards the window through the leafy curtain another world awaits mh feet adorned lace-satin slippers tiptoe the orchard pond reflects my dappled life ah above the water three herons drifting in lazy circles – I step through an archway crushing yellow daisies mh buzzing pollen laden bees dart bare fingers grasp my cradle shawl bundle ah kicking leaves through cloud-wrapped days unpicked fruit forgotten withering on the branch mh high above the apple grub sleeps unseen leaf-litter-life renews the forest floor ah
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The Bamboo Hut
Spring/Summer 2018
Keith Nunes Ryokan Rising (poet/monk Ryokan 1758-1831) wandering on a soft surface his home aches on an arched back his jesting enters the mountain air filtered through farmer’s laughter chattering children follow him to the pass as he descends they bow the sun rises over his footsteps
Bite of the Raw standing still below pins of light smudged lunar glow overlaid with fibrous cirrus crystalline razor cold breaking the will
A Returning morning purring uncluttered gossamer sheen radiant sensual all eased into an envelope sent to her ‘bring it with you’
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The Bamboo Hut Lavana Kray
No solution for the ice bridge between us – a plow blade is cutting the arteries of the city
The sun has left no blade of grass – my fresh wounds lying on a stone
two boats drifting at sea forever bonded – I anchor for good in your ghost-port
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Spring/Summer 2018
The Bamboo Hut J. Brian Robertson
first vacation alone the cuisine seasoned with an empty chair
appealing to the sky from a street vent the peacemaker
Rex forgets his name heat wave
borderland my journal filling up with half-finished sentences
prairie dawn reciting stock answers to stock interview questions
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Spring/Summer 2018
The Bamboo Hut Daniel Birnbaum
like the leaf once loose we only have the time of a fall to be free
this morning the wind without any doubt about its destination
tonight the silence of the wind unheard
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Spring/Summer 2018
The Bamboo Hut Elizabeth Moura
sparrows the old cat pines for a tenth life
home bound counting icicle drops
snow blind the old woman struggles up the stairs
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Spring/Summer 2018
The Bamboo Hut Dave Read drifting snow the pace of winter traffic
curling up before the fire ... autumn leafs
the lock rattles loose winter rain
taking her place amongst them ... winter stars
closed sign ... the wind spins a plastic cup
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Spring/Summer 2018
The Bamboo Hut Bryan Rickert
frantic in the headlights first snow
winter night the clarity of stars in her eyes
island breeze every clothespin line dancing
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Spring/Summer 2018
The Bamboo Hut Gabriel Bates
I see it seeing me see it little fawn
local bookstore an empty section for poetry
the honking from a skein of gray geese comes and goes without even thinking I find my way back home
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Spring/Summer 2018
The Bamboo Hut Anna Maria Domburg-Sancristoforo
it comes and goes the touch of the sun winter town
moments in time the space between two snowflakes
vietnamese springrolls I remember the twinkling in your eyes
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Spring/Summer 2018
The Bamboo Hut
Spring/Summer 2018
Jeff Burt Two Sisters Meadow mown, swallows circle mourning the loss of puddle and mud. A grey cat penetrates the field, a dark cloud skimming over the land.
Connor McDonald blue heron frozen still with the field
night / deepens / the sound of rain
seeing nothing –winter haze
16
The Bamboo Hut Kersten Christianson In my pocket I keep your heart: strong, measured, true. It clinks, clanks against loose coins. It counts my days.
Fame A murder of crows takes flight. Empty beach waits in silence.
Ben Moeller-Gaa the canoe floating through our silence summer stars making out the silence at the end of the record sudden storm — the quiet place inside her eyes
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Spring/Summer 2018
The Bamboo Hut
Spring/Summer 2018
Helga Stania (HS) & Ramona Linke (RL)
this blue museum silence drift through the wormhole of magic signs HS Dali's Soft Watches ... the quest for this blue RL open the door to the dimmed light tempest of organ HS the echo of naught at the edge of alternative worlds RL
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The Bamboo Hut
Spring/Summer 2018
Helga Stania (HS) & Ramona Linke (RL) empty barge calm moonlight tunes the brushstroke HS into alterability drifts the empty barge RL it appears the Gods watch TV series HS beyond the mirror‌ breathes Minotaur RL ` ambitions before the burn-up Cassini's last photo pin sharp RL at the edge of the fields ambitions run ashore HS Hokusai The Great Wave ... the book of hours opened RL and now children in lone abscondence HS 19
The Bamboo Hut Anna Goluba
All these birds flying South, north, West, east... All these letters I wrote to you In my mind
Farewell Snowflakes are stuck To the pane
From one three - liner To another... Haiku addict
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Spring/Summer 2018
The Bamboo Hut Larry Kimmel & Joy McCall. the map my view of anatomy – the parts you can’t see with the naked eye – something like a medieval map of the world modern art red splashes on a grey sea multiple sclerosis brain scan
among the graves among the mossy gravestones a boy and a dog play frisbee three lads playing hooky in the cemetary smoking pot by grandad's grave
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Spring/Summer 2018
The Bamboo Hut Larry Kimmel & Joy McCall. laughter the best medicine dusk descends into a clutch of barren branches – I email jokes to my friend a thousand miles from here to help her forget laughing through the tears through the dark an owl is calling mindless of the cold rain winter siege snowbound – wood enough and food enough for a five day siege dusk closes in the oil lamps are lit the saké is warming in little pots Irish pipers playing softly on the radio
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Spring/Summer 2018
The Bamboo Hut Larry Kimmel & Joy McCall. gone missing lost – something I wrote while sitting in the park today the dream that answered all the questions slowly fading as day breaks
Debbi Antebi deep winter the moon tucked in behind clouds sleeping in I still cannot reach the end of my dream spring gust the ripple effect of a thought 23
Spring/Summer 2018
The Bamboo Hut Bruce England Gray clouds a gash of sunlight pours down Pigeons shoot up hundreds circle around settle back, strutting Raindrop worlds fall, sink into the ground
Mark Gilbert under an oak tree under a cloud rain touches every leaf eventually bluebells smudged on purpose the artist uses a pseudonym of course the intern is the niece of the boss of my boss
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Spring/Summer 2018
The Bamboo Hut Eva Joan your voice is my shelter and carries me if i can’t fly against the raging wind
sometimes i wonder where you are then ... right away with a smile on my lips i can feel you in my heart ... deep-rooted
for one breath i saw myself in your eyes just for one breath i felt at home
no matter where you are where i am or how much time passes by i promise you will always always find me 25
Spring/Summer 2018
The Bamboo Hut Jane Dougherty Owl-murmur fox-pad deer-flight my heart into the wild leaps.
These stormy days of winter, gull-grey and white, sail by like battleships. Hunched against the cold I wait for warmer days, your quick smile.
Old wild plum full of magpies, piebald ornaments.
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Spring/Summer 2018
The Bamboo Hut Keitha Keyes holidays — slowing down sleeping in sipping on a novel checking the calendar … my life punctuated by submissions
"to be continued …" in the nursing home I am labelled “high care” and allocated to a tiny room I must share with a stranger plummeting from my independence to being grateful for crumbs of kindness … I hate this way of living
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Spring/Summer 2018
The Bamboo Hut Robert Witmer
open window a spring breeze weaves through traffic autumn rain one deep breath through a bamboo flute summer holidays a duck floats backwards under drowsy willows summer heat a damp shirt on an ironing board a shuttlecock caught in autumn leaves back to school
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Spring/Summer 2018
The Bamboo Hut
Spring/Summer 2018
Pamela A Babusci moonless night in a dark room in a dark mood the letter i never mailed half-burnt
skin a blank canvas for tattoos & your painterly hands that experiment
male pro-lifers outside planned parenthood snowflakes falling silently
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The Bamboo Hut Leonardo Lazzari winter sun my grandmother's toothless smile flirting students the smell of mimosa invades the classroom the child counts the jumps of a stone on the sea waves new personal best
William Galasso small town America the last drive-in movie shuts down --summer’s end hurricane season wind and rain lash our denial minimum wage she sleeps in her car this winter night
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Spring/Summer 2018
The Bamboo Hut Annelessia Smallcomb
My eyes are blurred The pollen clouding my nose Time for Claritin My skin is burning I must find air-condition Or at least shade Children are in school Thanksgiving is almost here Tree’s petals are falling
Kathleen Vo Nose red and frozen, Cracked lips lathered in lip balm Dry hands in warm gloves. Orange and yellow Decorated the sidewalks And the tree branches.
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Spring/Summer 2018
The Bamboo Hut
Spring/Summer 2018
Eryn King The smell of pine thrives Ornaments and lights take over The time has come. She comes with a cool breeze. She bears pumpkin spice lattes. Few appreciate her reign.
Alex Lobera Old Fingers wrinkled, joints that hurt holding the pen that drips ink that writes of caressing you. Oh that the last thing they do, these wrinkled fingers of mine is caress you and then write about the feel of your petal skin so that you, when my fingers and I are long gone, may read and be reminded of their loving touch forevermore
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The Bamboo Hut Alvin Kim Glistening tree tops Rustling in the soft breeze Chanting in a small three Silent white blankets Cover the world with stillness Nature's chance to rest
Margaret Mahoney morning tide swallows my footsteps over and over a lone seagull and I stand and watch I lie awake 3am night noises my granddaughter sleeps peacefully beside me an old couple sit in autumn sunshine holding hands young families imitate life making their own memories
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Spring/Summer 2018
The Bamboo Hut
Spring/Summer 2018
Ruben James Email Dissonance she’s fond of emailing into blank spaces humanity too robotic to reply
sultry afternoon fly forgets how to zig when to zag Round the Time of Pythagoras how flat the curved Earth mottle-grey sea spread to a silky white clouded line a line that seems an end but it’s not is it?
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The Bamboo Hut Don Thompson Providence Doves have a knack for leisure, Not tense all day, uncertain Like hawks of their next meal. Something is always going to seed.
Insomnia Blackbirds in the pine at dusk chattering Like an unquiet mind soon fall asleep. If they kept it up, they’d fret Themselves to death long before sunrise.
Downer Too upset to caw this morning, Maybe tongue-tied by bad dreams, A raven sits on a fencepost, glum, Feathers ruffled like an unmade bed.
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Spring/Summer 2018
The Bamboo Hut Debbie Strange Summering sidewalk cafes bloom on city corners we plant our winter bones in any patch of sun jazz concerts in the sculpture garden smooth strains of tenor saxophone waft across the river the tangy scents of propane and bug spray permeating these summer evenings faint drifts of laughter salsa dancing under the canopy bodies bend to Latin rhythms on this sultry night we celebrate our cultural diversity all summer street vendors tempt us to eat and drink the world
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Spring/Summer 2018
The Bamboo Hut Joy McCall and Don Wentworth so what is real? this lovely half-moon caught in the branches this cloud drifting in the sky this sound, in sudden darkness I love to be alone I don't remember ever feeling lonely stars, say hello to the moon moon, do you know what to do? the old woman says 'live moment to moment' I sit eating grapes each berry a gleaming star each star limning another beside my bed a blank sheet of paper I leave it that way the sky, too, is often blank then, look, look - poem after poem it is best to go to the common orchard with an empty basket large enough to catch a dream small enough for a blue world 37
Spring/Summer 2018
The Bamboo Hut Susmita Bhat Pumpkins and Squashes Of all odd shapes and sizes Are the harvest’s gifts The birds are chirping The groundhog came out today Starting the season
Annie Lin Chai consumes the air The hues of trees are muted Soon follows winter Fur as soft as silk His paws always by my side My friend forever
Jiangqing Zheng predawn light a coot’s wingtips shimmering white dim twilight a blackbird twitches its red wings
38
Spring/Summer 2018
The Bamboo Hut Michael H Lester I bite my cheeks constantly now at night since you left perhaps you can hear the impediment in my speech my son promises me I have told him this story a hundred times I do my best to buy him a gift he will like perhaps one day I will succeed mea culpa never trust anyone he says who tries hard or means well whether it boil in cauldron or crucible the alchemy of witches and tinkers bewilders the mortal mind
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Spring/Summer 2018
The Bamboo Hut Michael H Lester & Joy McCall what would we write if we were dust and ashes? what words would fall on the tables, on the floor? who goes there? who treads upon my ancient ashen grave rattles my weary bones sweeps the dust from my headstone? who else would come with crooked foot and broken broom in the dead of night to mewl, mutter and moan? it is true my earthly friends are few but tell me witch of something borrowed that I know it's truly you listen to the witch-song blowing around the stone rustling the grass 'bless your tombstone heart what's yours is mine ...' remember the locket you dearly placed high upon my breast here it lies among my bones this hallowed place I rest we say prayers we chant liturgies all is lost let us dance on the graves let us sing in the ruins
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Spring/Summer 2018
The Bamboo Hut Agus Maulana Sunjaya evening rain faint sound of prayers from the mosque Year of the Dog a stray cat curling behind the fence
Celestine Nudanu garden dew a butterfly sips from the silence forest walk dew drenched blossoms point the way music your words drip with echoes of soft mysteries fresh burst of spring a crescendo rising on bird songs 41
Spring/Summer 2018
The Bamboo Hut Michael Mann midnight stars spark memories of you now text without image waves taste my footprints then devour them I cease to exist with each step wind and sea never sleep the screech of your old age weather vane yellow moon light from the window moth tap tapping if I turn off the light will you fly to the moon?
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Spring/Summer 2018
The Bamboo Hut Anna Cates conch shell listening to wave rhythms the flaming sunset footprints swallowed by the tide were we ever here? a silent puppet in a chair by the window musty Victorian in forgotten rooms whispers of yesterday a brown thrasher winters in the pine— old strip mine at the end of our labors the silent darkness veiled stars winding into oblivion empty roads how silent our secrets how secret the silence
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Spring/Summer 2018
The Bamboo Hut Barun Saha harshest winter yet proclaimed by the news channels for the last few days I search for traces of warmth in the ashes left behind anniversary -nothing else left between us only the wolf moon howling at the blues amidst this shuddering emptiness was it yesterday? picnic beneath sakura now framed in the wall myths that I sing to myself away from the week-long crowd
Sean Bui Open meadow Hummingbirds Attracting hummingbirds
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Spring/Summer 2018
The Bamboo Hut Srinivasa Rao Sambangi temple lake a boar hunter washes the bamboo stick sickle moon stretches ends-the urge to fill garden tulips swing open to sky street kids' mouths
Ayaz Daryl Nielsen gone in a fire-storm the trees were pine and aspen the house was our home weathered by the sun strong hands of the farmer’s boy bouquet for his girl books we’ve read unwinding in heart and thoughts umbilical words
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Spring/Summer 2018
The Bamboo Hut Lysa Collins first light edging down the slope into the leopard's stealth years later the old blind rhino still nuzzles at my hand slow stream -hooded eyes follow the papyrus raft midafternoon beneath the baobab the wind and I, resting night shadows flit across the wall ... I should have known
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Spring/Summer 2018
The Bamboo Hut
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Spring/Summer 2018