discussion between assistant editors Frosty and Tama. . .
Frosty: "often, we receive poems we aren't sure how to approach, yet they have an intrinsic something that speaks to us". . .
Tama: "and it seems this something, even if it isn't where we might go with our own creative endeavors, is from someone(s) who have obviously accessed and owned the creative impulse within the essence of being"
together: "and! we've discovered a poem, Syntax, by poetess Wang Ping, that speaks directly to our 'needed' discussion":
She walks to a table
She walks to table
She is walking to a table
She walk to table now
What difference does it make
What difference it make
In Nature, no completeness
No sentence really complete thought
Language, like woman,
Looks best when free, undressed.
Since my birth, silence has been my only weapon.
Now it no longer suffices
The need to speak
leaves me restless like a hunger.
My words may not say what I mean,
but they're my only words.
the poem that finally, thankfully, initiated this discussion and
our discovery of lovely Wang Ping is by P C K Prem,
from Kangra, Himachal Pradesh, INDIA. . .
I wanted to write a poem
on bed gasping and sighing,
waiting to be put on dialysis
anytime in gentle diagnose
in efforts to hasten mercy death
in a dark room.
Old, sad, tired and unwanted
I would turn out in old age
a truth is so cutting I fear.
I was a hungry young man once
a journey from rocks to flesh
a desperate hunger existed within,
drank like a fish
as passions boiled like animals
and I was dumb…
I lived like a lord
and a king beyond history
without a crown,
for I was people’s man
happy, jaunty, intrepid
not candid but appeared so
with negative attributes
and in irregular hysterics,
I talked in unqualified words.
Only I detested interpreting death
as craving for flesh and drinks
and carnage infused verve,
and on the big chair I chewed gum
and murdered petitions of tears
in vacant eyes.
As I resolved
and slaughtered living words
and voices in joy embryonic.
Last, a haiku from Wang Ping. . .
A FLASH OF THOUGHT FROM THE RIVER
I really think I have nothing to do with humans
though I occasionally drown a few
to remind them of their origin.
'of flesh and spirit poems by Wang Ping' Coffee House Press
ISBN 9 781566 890687
also! this fascinating interview 'Prayer Flags and Kinship Rivers
A Conversation with Wang Ping'
p. 75, World Literature Today, May-August 2016.
beloved assistant editors, my deepest thanks for this post
Frosty: "time for treats?!?"
yes, treats for everyone!
see you in a moment
ayaz daryl nielsen
email@example.com (and/or) firstname.lastname@example.org