In Kyotowhen I hear the cuckoo singI long for Kyoto -Bashō I still remember the mixed feelings I had reading my first computer-generated haiku. It wasn’t Bashō, but it spoke to me somehow. This felt like a triumph, because I had written the software that wrote the poem, but also a bit confrontational, because I […]
Sometimes I think I am just the way
dishes get transported up and down stairs–
like, having no legs, they invented me
Sometimes I think I am just the way
dishes get transported up and down stairs–
like, having no legs, they invented me
like a balloon, the globe escaped
and drifted into the star-pricked dark
or perhaps it was I, filled with
the good air of hopefulness,
tied tightly by a mother’s hand.
A new poem about poetic inheritance, in honour of my friend and mentor Marvin Bell
