December 2017
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: December 2017
labyrinthine cloud . . .
yesterday's is
becomes its was
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: December 2017
"Adlestrop"
a blackbird close by
all the more
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: December 2017
passing stranger
are my eyes
your way station
or are yours mine?
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: December 2017
in another life
I grasp the insubstantial
in a dream's last gasp
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: December 2017
a sea view
filled with countless flaws
missing the point
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: December 2017
sprung rhythms . . .
the poems the maker
of the poet
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: December 2017
bees too fail
to recreate the scent
of grapefruit blossoms
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: December 2017
peony bloom
an idea of order
beyond reason
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: December 2017
a nightmare
of falling awake
fledgeling owl
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: December 2017
beatific vision
through clouds of unknowing
spring cataract
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: December 2017
a balmy night
and my brain barely
processing words
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: December 2017
what luck!
the scent of freesias
while longing for them
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: December 2017
a reed of itself in sound
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: December 2017
asleep within a parabolic reflection
When Yosa Buson painted the "butterfly sleeping on the temple bell" haiku, he implicitly alludes to the Heike Monogatari tale of the demise of the Taira clan who, under Kiyomori's leadership, took a butterfly for their crest. In one visually appealing image the poet brings together a clear allusion to Chuang Tzu's dream that he was a butterfly and also to the Heike Monogatari's opening gong - "The sound of the bell of Gion Shōja echoes the impermanence of all things. The hue of the flowers of the teak tree declares that they who flourish must be brought low. Yea, the proud ones are but for a moment, like an evening dream in springtime. The mighty are destroyed at the last, they are but as the dust before the wind."
Some eighteen centuries earlier a pregnant virgin, overshadowed by the Tao, retraced the way that had lead the Ark of the Covenant to a house in the hill country of Judea. In response to the enthusiastic joy of her pregnant cousin's greeting, the virgin humbly proclaimed her Magnificat declaring the greatness of and her delight in God while foreseeing the reversals in store for the proud, the powerful, and the rich. Already the most sublime of all human tragedies, that would culminate in her coming child's cry of absolute despair - "Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani!", was seeded within her womb.
Of his 1926 sculpture, The Visitation, Jacob Epstein described the one single figure that he had completed as expressing "a humility so profound as to shame the beholder who comes to my sculpture expecting rhetoric or splendour of gesture".
Twenty-one years later Simone Weil would write in Gravity and Grace, "Humility is the refusal to exist outside God".
Reeling under the realisation that all creation "is an infinite sphere, the center of which is everywhere, but its circumference nowhere", Blaise Pascal focuses in on the imperceptibly small noting that "who will not be astounded at the fact that our body, which a little while ago was imperceptible in the universe, itself imperceptible in the bosom of the whole, is now a colossus, a world, or rather a whole, in respect of the nothingness which we cannot reach? He who regards himself in this light will be afraid of himself, and observing himself sustained in the body given him by nature between those two abysses of the Infinite and Nothing, will tremble at the sight of these marvels".
with dewfall
a mite swims
the vault of heaven
- Details
- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: December 2017
in settled wandering
i experience a gradual decay through my seventh decade in an irresistible process of detachment from the world that will end when i end.
with first light i first-person myself into the I you resurrect before Thou.
O self-revelatory encounter!
wordless at first there springs an attentiveness that mines from paleolithic shadows an endless moment's willing suspension of disbelief until once more I am wordless at last.
this and this
I bless each absence
unaware
- Details
- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: December 2017
reading aloud
my tongue brings to life
a mother tongue
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: December 2017
saint's day
am i here or are all my other moments of being here penetrating the present? am i processing what i am sensing or am i also in the overlaps of presents? if memory is the mother of the muses is her grandchild the alchemy of my history of nows in the crucible of the heated ecstasy of being here now?
the fire
of birdsong
in a day's embers
- Details
- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: December 2017
- Details
- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: December 2017
at year's end
new year cicadas begin
to tune up
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: December 2017
pleading
wholly innocence
barely-beens
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: December 2017
desert lament
no comfort is there — none
for they are no more
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: December 2017
my feet crack open
with the pain of the earth
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: December 2017
ending time . . .
the universe folds back
into itself
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: December 2017
in summer light
in the present tense
on an empty page
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: December 2017
earthly dream
seasonal progression of
evergreen
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: December 2017
turning into myself
the one when i was
before i was
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: December 2017
windy shore
my word prints wash away
as I make them
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: December 2017
dead sea scrolls
the accumulation of words
w/o this out
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: December 2017
in an almost
of the moment
a baby's smile
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: December 2017
an image fades
beyond belief
into being
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: December 2017
a river of life
lies in a bed
of its own making
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: December 2017
left alone
the child becomes
a winter sky
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: December 2017
feeding off
the sacred mysteries
mistletoe
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: December 2017
presidential tweet
all and sundry
pee their pants
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: December 2017
a mayfly
fasting from the dream
of forever
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: December 2017
face to face
with my reflection
on mercy
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: December 2017
post mortem
the hedonist hits
his dead-end
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: December 2017
my lineage
weathers into my face
autumn testament
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: December 2017
solstice dusk
a kitten silences
the cicada
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: December 2017
southern star
a procession of monks
through the abbey
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: December 2017
at the end
of all my wandering
clear cascades
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: December 2017
the fire
of birdsong
in a day's embers
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: December 2017
percussive sun
everybody
must get stoned
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: December 2017
ill at ease
my eyes continue to roam
my dreaming mind
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: December 2017
face to face
desolate beaches
laid bare
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: December 2017
old gargoyle
her eyes give away
what croaks hide
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: December 2017
past its peak
Taranaki loses
its last snow
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: December 2017
conclave smoke
rising from a cardinal's
cigarette
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: December 2017
frog haiku torn open to suggestion
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: December 2017
new year's eve . . .
a caterpillar lingers
over its food
- Details
- Written by Clayton Beach, Hansha Teki & Johnny Baranski
- Category: December 2017
clear water rises
on the other side of shadow
the reflection CB
cows idle home for milking
under herringbone clouds HT
about to burst
with bells and whistles
plum blossoms JB
the wind slowly strips
paint from the fence CB
on her phone
the tweenie moons over
a boy band HT
beyond a reasonable doubt
his paramour's ring tone JB
articles of a faith
overrun with brambles
chapel swallows CB
flies swarm across my timeline
in the heat of the moment HT
on the gridiron
a streaker
trips and falls JB
honkytonk sunset
the drifter sips his rye CB
russet tones
gather at the edges
of ripeness HT
hooked on opioids
fish pond moon JB
the tide's withdrawal
reveals
a lifeless reef CB
a dot hangs about
without an i HT
watch your Ps and Qs
on that first date
#metoo JB
a single drop of blood
adorns the cactus spine CB
beauty sleeps
deep under the mud
ashen rose HT
departing geese
muddy streaks across the sky JB
a trail of ants
Coltrane's solo flies
off the page CB