Short Poem on the Origins of the Multiverse

Four voids diverged in the hour

Of my darkest mood

And sorry I could not travel them all

And be one traveler still, long I stood

Until I decided, demiurge that I am

That it would be better to demerge

The unity of the world in favor of
A far less coherent plan

This poem was inspired by the imaged posted above, which I came across on Twitter.  I love the image and wish I could make out the signature so I could properly attribute and thank the artist named in the lower right hand corner.  That of course and a tip of the hat to Robert Frost.

Frontier Living

Another day and another member of the tribe receives a bad diagnosis without warning.  This is when the entire earth begins to resemble a charnel house under the pale blue sky for an awning.

When the wheel turns

It’s time to be tested again

By illness and worry

Counting the t-cells and platelets

As love falls captive

To the pharmacological state

Mismanaged and uncertain

Living on the frontier

Where the broad sky

Opens to affliction and

Where death lurks

Like a scorpion in your boots

Or else in the top dresser drawer

Mixed with socks and undies

Every morning we must remember

To laugh and check carefully

Before pulling on our pants

Gan Yu - II (Zhang Jiu Ling)

This is from a short series of poems by Zhang Jiu Ling.  The series is called Gan Yu - a phrase impossible to translate succinctly, it means something like feelings encountered along the way.  It is used as a title by Tang poets to indicate poems of a more contemplative nature.

Zhang Jiu Ling was a remarkable figure.  You can read a brief Wikipedia entry about him here which chronicles his adventures as a high ranking government official in the 8th century, maneuvering through a period full of palace intrigue in the years prior to the An Lushan rebellion.  As a high government minister he was apparently held in high regard for his plain spoken honesty.

I find the same quality animates his poems, particularly the Gan Yu series, which I believe may have been written in his later years, after he fell into political disfavor.

Gan Yu – II

The orchid leaf

So lush in spring

And the cassia

With its brilliant

Autumn flowering

The sheer delight

Of the force of life

As each being unfolds

According to scheme

Whoever takes

A forest perch can learn

These simple pleasures

By sitting and listening

To the wind

As grass and trees

In turn show

Their intentions

Revealing what   

Beauty is to man

Before disappearing

感遇其二

蘭葉春葳蕤

桂華秋皎潔

欣欣此生意

自爾為佳節

誰知林棲者

聞風坐相悅

草木有本心

何求美人折

If you enjoyed this poem you can read the next poem in Zhang's Gan Yu series by clicking here.

From Poetry to Silence (composed in meditation)

From poetry to silence

Is much closer than you think

A half step at most

Only six inches

From capitulation
To silence's brink

Whereas prose pitches

Its tent much closer to bombast

And obstinacy

* * * * *

Sometimes
Working the knots out
Just won't do
And then
It's up to the pursuit
Of Nothing else
Outside the musculature and
Even beyond the exoskeleton
To discover how energy
Unfettered zips about

In the Zhongnan Mountains (by Wang Wei)

I've written before (here and here) about the wonderful book by Francois Jullien, which I keep close by my side these days -  The Great Image Has No Form.  Here's a brief passage explaining one of the book's central ideas:

When the Chinese painter says from the first that "the mountain is a great thing" (Guo Xi), it is clear that "great," far from being flat description, must be understood in the sense of the "great image."  Its greatness lies in the fact that it does not have one form but, as the Shi-tao says "ten-thousand" - like the "ten-thousand" things within the Tao. A mountain is without form in the sense that it contains countless forms, with no single one predominating.

As a fine illustration of the point Jullien is making about the mountain's greatness, here is a poem by Wang Wei that I translated this morning:

In the Zhongnan Mountains

Taiyi reaches Heaven

Already it seems and

From there the mountains  

Run down to the sea

White clouds encircle

The highest peaks

Merging them together

Sky and cloud intermixed

Obstructing the view

The boundaries among

The peaks grow indistinct

Shadow and light

Crowd together

Filling up the ravines

Hoping to find

Lodging for the night

From across the river bank

I call to an old woodcutter

终南山

太乙近天都     连山到海隅

白云回望合     青霭入看无

分野中峰变     阴晴众壑殊

欲投人处宿     隔水问樵夫