A
Pigeon Is a Dove
ever
so positive
affirming
even the dust
with
your vigorous nodding
over
bits of gravel
and
stale bread
body
of Christ
here
in our stead
high
on a cross on a hill
the
women who wailed
in
your shadow
the
birds that circled
your
head
listening
for heavenly news
an
unbroken thread
lips
sewn to an olive branch
coo
lowly dove
your
partner preens in the light
coo
lowly dove
always
merry and bright
thunder
hungers
for
the rainbow in your wings
Dreadful Speech
Herdsman:
I am on the brink of dreadful speech.
Oedipus:
And I of dreadful hearing. Yet I must hear.
wise
men
the
star that guides
on
the blink
the
labyrinth
behind
her eyes
a
broken thread
a
brilliant idea
out
of the blue
Icarus
twitter
the
bead
in
his whistle
sunlight
on
ice
the
banker’s smile
somewhere
in
the dark room
a
clock ticks
wild
canaries
singing
on the wing
from
the coal mine
climate
change
we
turn to face
a
firing squad
war
a
fistful of ashes
in
a game of dice
twisting
shadows
beneath
falling leaves
war’s
children
little
red rooster
the
hen’s dream
sizzles
in the skillet
The Dew’s Sweet Slumber
dewdrop
on a yellow leaf
uplifted,
waiting for the sun
memory
of the night, augury of the dawn
swift
silent creation, are you an angel’s tear
or
the sublime baptism of a patient god
Satori
And so socratically
I raise my wrinkled robe
and relieve
myself against this wall
of melting snow
that certain sophic sentiments
splendiferous in their own
right now seem
especially now the shrills
of autumn birds
are but a distant memory
to leave me
with this last long
silvery chill
of emptiness
Ijin *
a
sharp knife
on
an empty plate
the
winter wind
wheezing
through the iron gate
a
stranger in the snow
* The folklore of Japan is full of references to the mysterious figure of a Stranger, who wanders into a village from an unknown ‘outside’ world. This ijin could be a traveller, such as a tinker or priest or performer, or he could be a foreigner, or a supernatural being. Regardless, he is different from us, and therefore he is excluded from the network of relationships which comprise our community. (paraphrased from an essay by Carmen Blacker, “The Folklore of the Stranger”)
Robert
Witmer has lived in Japan for the past 45 years. Now an emeritus professor, he
has had the opportunity to teach courses in poetry and creative writing not
only at his home university in Tokyo but also in India. His poems and prose
poetry have appeared in many print and online journals and books. His first
book of poetry, a collection of haiku titled Finding a Way, was
published in 2016. A second book of poetry, titled Serendipity, was
published earlier this year (2023).
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