high lonesome friday evening octet

always that guitar shaped from tear-choked cypress,

always monstera’s open hands reaching past

the glass jar’s lip, always you by the sea in

a photo under the lamp I’ve just switched on,

always two black-streaked plantains nestled in their

bowl with the garlic, always that black-covered

Dao De Jing slanted across Du Fu’s poems,

always a folk song, its echoed train whistle

Jack Hayes

© 2017

fairy-tale for thursday octet

asking these katsuras one after one in

a line with their red-brown buds & naked limbs—

asking these camellias thronging in a row

leaning scarlet & blush above the fence rail—

asking these white birches with their torn pages

fluttering in the air’s raw exhalations—

asking these five crows that keep shifting places—

asking infinitesimal rain where you’ve gone

Jack Hayes

© 2017

Dao De Jing 1

Dao De Jing 1

The Way that can be talked about is not the unchanging Way—

The Name that can be named is not the unchanging Name—

Nameless, it generates heaven & earth;

Named, it is Mother of the ten thousand things—

Always free of attachment observe the unchanging cause

Always holding onto attachment observe the outer boundary—

These two aspects come from the same source, with different names, but together they are named the Profound—

The Profound within the Profound is the door to the essence of all

Laozi, 道德經

Translation by John Hayes

NOTE: Although there are many aspects of this passage that could be noted, the one I want to draw your attention to is the opening line. This contains an untranslatable pun:  道可道，非常道 [dào kě dào fēi cháng dào]. The character 道dào carries multiple meanings, including “road, journey, method, skill, method, law, doctrine, to speak, to talk; in its own way, 道 is as untranslatable as the Greek λόγος [logos], which we know from the beginning of the Gospel According to St John, though it’s a concept in Greek philosophy dating at least as far back as Heraclitus; in fact, 道 shares several meanings with λόγος.

The translation is is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 United States License.

Unlike with my original poetry & poetry translations, I don’t asset a copyright claim on my translation of the Dao De Jing. It may be freely used under the terms of the Creative Commons license.

Image links to its source on Wiki Commons:

Bagua diagram by Zhao Huiqian ("River Chart spontaneously [generated] by Heaven and Earth" 圖河.自地天). Circa 1370. Also found in Hu Wei’s “Yitu mingbian” ("Clarification of the diagrams in the book of changes"), dated 1706.

Public domain.

Outside the Ring

Outside the Ring

I walk in a ring

around all there is.

And inside this ring

is your world.

My shade fell an instant

on the window glass.

I walk in a ring

around all there is.

And outside this ring

is my world.

Steinn Steinarr (“Utan Hringsins” in the original Icelandic)

Translation by Sheila Graham-Smith

© 2017

From Wikipedia:    

Steinn Steinarr (born Aðalsteinn Kristmundsson, 13 October 1908 – 25 May 1958) was an Icelandic poet.

Many Icelanders regard Steinn Steinarr as their greatest poet, although he remains almost unknown outside of Iceland, due perhaps to a lack of effective translations of his poetry.

Image links to its source on Wiki Commons:

Wassily Kandinsky (1866–1944) “Circles in a Circle” – 1923

Public domain.

preliminary sandy blvd octet

one cirrus cloud refracting pink & green, west;

who’ll tell its story when I’m no longer here?

you will; but it’s already been absorbed in

that gray cloud using the sun for a headlight—

so many raindrops fleck the mirror glass, &

one bullet hole & my walking reflection—

so much traffic along the boulevard’s slant,

& I alone am escaped to tell the tale

Jack Hayes
© 2017

“Histories Repeating as 1000 Hearts Mend”

Welcome to another edition of Sunday Music on Robert Frost’s Banjo.

The featured artist for Sundays in March is the Montreal-based ensemble Esmerine. Esmerine has been described as a “chamber rock” group, but whatever term or terms we choose to describe their sound, to my ear it’s unique & exquisitely beautiful. The combination of cello & marimba (& bowed marimba at that!) is just wonderful, & Esmerine brings other instruments to their mix as well, while eschewing the guitar sound—which even (or especially?) as a guitarist myself, I find refreshing.

Esmerine formed in 2000 as the duo of percussionist Bruce Cawdron and cellist Rebecca Foon. The ensemble’s current line-up is Bruce Cawdron, Rebecca Foon, Jamie Thompson, & Brian Sanderson, while past members include Sarah Pagé & Andrew Barr. The groups members are associated with other Montreal-based acts such as Godspeed You! Black Emperor, Thee Silver Mt. Zion Memorial Orchestra & Tra-La-La Band, Saltland, Fifths of Seven and Mile-End Ladies' String Auxiliary. They’ve released five albums, & I’d encourage you to support these fine musicians by purchasing their music.

Histories Repeating as 1000 Hearts Mend is included on their 2005 Madrona release, Aurora.

Image links to its source on Wiki Commons:

Esmerine, 19 June 2014

Photo by Rfphotos who make the image available under the Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 Unportedlicense.

The Ash Wednesday Octets

ash wednesday octet #1

why expect cherries to bloom white froth in this

land of cinderblocks & pale yellow clapboards?

the sound of a plane where the sunlight’s smeared on

big clouds, the sound of a car, a train whistle—

people are talking in the parking lot; notes

played on a harp with dandelions woven

through its strings emanate from a far off land—

the sky east of the cedars: entirely ash

◦           ◦            ◦

ash wednesday octet #2

not the stories I was going to tell you:

photons from track lights glistening on the skins

of citrus; watch them scatter beyond even

onions & yams in their bins—loving kindness

meditation for everyone I don’t

know, which is everyone—contrary sky

tears its clouds into white rags floating on

blue blue waters—by turns brilliant & ashen

◦        ◦          ◦

ash wednesday octet #3

a pair of sunglasses with heart rims & no

lenses left for dead on the parking strip grass—

you see that every day of course—weeping

birch catkins dangle their promises too, stirred

in a thin breeze, & the crow pecks orange peels,

fragments of a summer sun torn to pieces;

that blue sneaker next to the door has no mate:

sky’s had it up to here with incense ashes

Jack Hayes

© 2017

Note: I know I said I was going on a blog vacation until Sunday, but things happen.