California Poetry in the California Quarterly 44/1 and Joys of Spring

Kathabela Wilson, Maja Trochimczyk, and Marlene Hitt with the California Quarterly 44/1, March 25, 2018

There is so much poetry going on, it is hard to keep track of things. I have been busy editing collections of poetry by others, with some poems of mine as well.

Photo by Maja Trochimczyk

This volume features almost 60 poets, including Village Poets Pam Shea and Marlene Hitt, and poets who featured at Bolton Hall Museum in the past: Kathabela Wilson, Susan Rogers, Margaret Saine, Deborah P. Kolodji and William Scott Galasso.  Copies of the CQ may be obtained by ordering online at CaliforniaStatePoetrySociety.org , or by mailing a request for a specific​ issue together with a check for $10.00 per copy. Do not forget to name the specific issue you are requesting (this one is 44/1) and submit your order to:  CSPS VP/Membership 2560 Calabria Ct, Dublin, CA 94568.

Every poet is invited to join the CSP Society, online or by mail. First fill out the form on the website, then print it and send with payments by mail to: 

CSPS Vice President - Membership, 

2560 Calabria Court, Dublin, California  94568

When editing this volume first I thought I should have a theme of spring, new life, renewal, then i realized that poets submitted mostly about the fall (what was currently written), so I had to revise my theme into the "cycle of life" - in its physical natural beauty and spiritual depth.  I'm thrilled to have encountered so many new wonderful poets, and to be able to publish the work of talented friends. I used some haiku, including two of mine, as comments on shorter poems, and wrote a new poem to close the issue. 

Here's the table of contents of the California Quarterly, Volume 44, Number 1

• Fragments - Jerry Sexton, 7
• The Night Sky - Thomas Mitchell, 8
• October Yellow Jackets  - Mary Lou Wickham, 9
• Yellow School Bus (Haiku) - William Scott Galasso, 9
• Autumn Song - Thomas Mitchell, 10
• Meditation - Pamela Shea, 10
• Coming Home - Momoyo Capanna, 11
• The Holy - Claire Millikin, 12
• Pause at the Long Valley Caldera - Selma Calnan, 13
• Autumn of My Life (Tanka) - Kath Abela Wilson, 13
• Devore Fire - Dana Stamps, II, 14
• Light Shimmers (Haiku)  - Maja Trochimczyk 14
• Evacuation - Shirley Geok-lin Lim ,15
• Unknown Happens  - David E. Howerton, 15
• Waiting for Santa Claus - Shirley Geok-lin Lim, 16
• Japanese Maple (Haiku) - Susan Rogers, 17
• Parti juste comme ça - Michael D. Amitin, 18
• Gone Like That - Lionel Roudet (Translation of Amitin's poem), 19
• Elohim -  d.p. houston, 20
• Waiting - Marlene Hitt, 20
• National Botanical Gardens - Alun Rees, 21
• Late October - Thomas Mitchell, 22
• Signs of Winter (Tanka) - Kath Abela Wilson, 22
• Good Evening - AE Hines, 23
• Visión del Vals de La Nieve - Rodolfo Hasler, 24
• First Snow - Kath Abela Wilson,  24
• A Vision of the Snow Waltz - Margaret Saine (Translation of Hausler's poem) 25
• Winter Triangle (Haiku) - Deborah P Kolodji,  25
• Christmas Cards - Ken Autrey,  26
• Quatre Saisons  - Jane Stuart, 27
• In the Village of Trélex - Lois P. Jones. 28
• Song of the Pear - Lia Brooks, 29
• Water from Air - Jane North, 30
• Only My (Haiku)  - Deborah P Kolodji, 30
• Meeting Max on His Zero Birthday - Patricia Hukill,  31
• Shining Shoes - Ken Autrey,  32
• Wren Song (Haiku) - Deborah P Kolodji ,32
• Twone - Alessio Zanelli,  33
• Remembering When … New-  David E. Howerton , 33
• The Wish of Hedera - Kath Abela Wilson,  34
• Race to Spring - Alice Pero,  35
• When That Radiance Breaks - Stephen Colley,  36
• Lucid - d.p. houston,  37
• Cerulean Blue -  AE Hines,  38
• The Veil - Mimi Whittaker,  39
• Cutouts - Ken Autrey,  40
• Catching Wood -  John Schneider,  41
• Playing with Shadows -  Margaret Saine,  42
• Puny Human - Joshua Savage,  43
• Response to Mother Earth -  Joshua Savage,  44
• To Ear by Wing - Kath Abela Wilson,  45
• Grass - Susan Rogers,  46
• Off the Dock - John Schneider,  47
• Can’t Sit Still (Haiku) - William Scott Galasso,  47
• Waves Crashing -  David E. Howerton , 48
• The Sea - Alessio Zanelli,  48
• Sandpipers - Jean Esteve,  49
• Salt Wind (Haiku) - Deborah P Kolodji,  49
• Twin Jellyfish (Haiku) - Maja Trochimczyk,  49
• Awakening - Marlene Hitt,  50
• An Orchestra of Dreams - Jane Stuart,  50
• Trampoline Cleaning - Pamela Shea,  51
• Peaceful Journey - Marlene Hitt,  51
• Where I Live - Dana Stamps, II,  52
• Erin’s Song - Susan Rogers,  53
• Visión de Orion -  Rodolfo Hasler, 54
• Suza - Susan Rogers,   54
• Vision of Orion - Margaret Saine (Tr.),  55
• I Will Be Burned (Tanka) - William Scott Galasso,  55
• To Come - Madeleine S. Butcher,  56
• Creation - Jane Stuart, 56
• Revel …  - Alice Pero, 57
• White on Blue -  Stephen Colley, 58
• Arbor Cosmica -  Maja Trochimczyk, 59

• Cover Art: Yucca Abby Diamond

Photo of maples in Warsaw by Maja Trochimczyk

ARBOR COSMICA 

                      ~ for my children

No fear, no hate, not even a mild dislike*—

we leave our heavy burdens, shards of memories

broken, all too broken, at the bottom of crystal stairs

beneath clouds of white camellias, petals swirling

through air like the snow of forgetfulness

Perfect symmetry of blossoms

points the way — up, up, always up

rainbow crystal stairs, revealed

one by one as we ascend — inwards,

outwards — dancing spirals of our DNA

We get to know this place — these depths,

these heights — for once, for all lifetimes

With each step, pure notes resonate

and expand into clear, spacious chords —

the music of the spheres rings out, wave by wave

expanding from our open hearts

Each chord — harmonious, different —

each melody in this vast symphony

sweetly twines around another, and another

until all are One Song, One Wisdom —

of stem and flower, of leaf and root

in this Cosmic Tree of humanity

Arbor Cosmica —

We have been here

all along without knowing

(c) 2018 by Maja Trochimczyk

Photo of a maple in Warsaw by Maja Trochimczyk

There is a correction to be made, though. The famous word "It" - made infamous by Monthy Python, actually - went missing from the penultimate line of the poem by Alun Rees, sent in from Wales. "It" was not found before the journal went to print, so here is his whole poem, with the missing word inserted in the line that "it" so recklessly abandoned. Apologies to the poet! 

NATIONAL BOTANICAL GARDENS

Chained are these captives on display:

eagle, buzzard, goshawk, kestrel, kite

in a garden setting excellent with plants.

Plants stay in place, but raptors call for shackles

to deny them flight.

They learn to fly to order, just as Spartacus played

the Roman game, in which he had to fight

his comrade gladiators to please the mob.

He waited, then fought a bloody war with his captors

and he did right.

Look these birds in the eye. You will see

half-hidden flames of a fierce internal light.

They do their tricks but you’ll never make them like it.

Even unto death they’re unconquerable killers —

despite chain-blight.

They’ve known a freedom we can’t understand.

They hunt and kill out of hunger, not of spite.

That’s a way of life we’ve long forgotten, and now

confronted with freedom we chain it and go meekly

into no good night.

Alun Rees

Cardiff, Wales

Photos of autumn in Warsaw by Maja Trochimczyk

Photo by Arturas Morozovas

But this is spring, not autumn, oranges are ripe and blossom at the same time... And Easter just passed.. . I had the pleasure of talking about my immigrant experience, my family war-time traumas, and life in general to two journalists from Europe: Polish-Lithuanian journalist Witold Janczys wrote a story based on my interview for a Lithuanian publication, and Polish music journalist and broadcaster Ewa Szczecinska from the Polish Radio recorded an interview to be broadcast in installments - the series has just began - in Polish  Here are the links, and a photo from the Lithuanian publication - translated from Polish into Russian!

 https://www.delfi.lt/multimedija/u-nas-i-amerikie/u-nas-v-amerike-ceny-tozhe-rastut-no-i-zarplaty-uvelichivayutsya.d?id=77319547

https://www.polskieradio.pl/8/380/Artykul/2082339,Maja-Trochimczyk-Zycie-pomiedzy-Polska-a-USA

Let me, then, end this post with another image, also in the golden hues by Susan Dobay, with oceans and oceans and oceans of blessings... 

Norooz, Passover, and Easter - New Life and Fire

Fire and Fire

Whoever invented Easter Bunny that lays Chocolate Eggs on the lawn was not thinking through the rather dismal consequences of this wild leap of imagination... No matter, children are happily looking for chocolate confection scattered on the lawns of American suburbia... Would the popular-culture Easter be more memorable and dramatic, instead of just plain silly, if it included jumping over the bonfires, like the Persian purification rituals held at night on the Spring Equinox? 

On March 20, 2013, Persians around the world, as well as inhabitants of many countries in South-East Asia celebrated the holiday of Persian New Year dating back to the time of Zoroaster, three thousand years ago. This time of new beginnings, new hope and plans for new future, is marked by a 13-day holiday, with intense celebrations held on the 
night of the Equinox, when the day and night are equal and day starts to become longer than night. Families gather around bonfires and those brave enough to do it, jump over the fire with a prayer, to leave the old worries and troubles behind and leave them to burn in the fire, and to take into the new year the vitality and brightness of flames. In 2010, the UNESCO recognized the holiday of "Novruz" ("New Day"), added to the List of Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity.

The purification by flame is also a vital part of the Passover Celebrations, commemorating an ancient event of Exodus, the liberation of the Jewish people from Egyptian slavery. Before the solemnities can begin, each household is thoroughly cleansed and purified of all leaven bread and bread crumbs. On the last night before Passover, a search is conducted by candlelight, and the leaven bread remnants are burned before the celebrations can begin.  The fermentation of the leaven breads is a symbol of the festering of old memories, obsessive thoughts, regrets and guilt that need to disappear. A new beginning and true freedom of heart are not possible without leaving behind the burden of the past. What better way than burning the remnants of old, or jumping over the fire?

Christian Easter also focuses on fire at night. The Easter Vigil begins from starting a huge bonfire outside of the church and from blessing of the fire and of the Paschal Candle, marked with symbols of Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end, and with the symbols of the year that it will serve the faithful, its flame a symbol of the burning presence of Christ. The congregants gather in darkness, broken only with the single flame of the Paschal Candle. This light spreads as more candles are lit, from one person to the next, until the entire congregation is a sea of flickering candle-lights. This is one of the most effective symbolic rituals of the Church - the drawing of spiritual light from ancient Fire, the sharing of Light from one person to the next, in unbroken chain of the faithful, each protecting his or her little flame and sharing it with his/her neighbor. 

The dove descending breaks the air
With flame of incandescent terror
Of which the tongues declare
The one discharge from sin and error.
The only hope, or else despair
Lies in the choice of pyre or pyre-
To be redeemed from fire by fire.

Who then devised the torment? Love.
Love is the unfamiliar Name
Behind the hands that wove
The intolerable shirt of flame
Which human power cannot remove.
We only live, only suspire
Consumed by either fire or fire.

T. S. Eliot - Little Gidding, from Four Quartets

Listen to Eliot's own reading of Little Gidding (16 minutes)

My meditations on the Divine Fire led my thoughts along a less elevated path, starting from a parking lot at my son's school:

Incandescent (Via Positiva)

How gently and lovingly
You wake in my heart,
Where in secret you dwell alone ~
         ~ St. John of the Cross 
            The Living Flame of Love

The car was pulling out of the parking lot
When friends texted my son —
A sixteen-year-old, six-foot baby
"Is that your sister, or your mom?
She’s hot!" He looked at me
And waved at them, laughing.

Consumed by divine flames
I was not careful. I did not close
All doors, all windows.
Fire got in.

The Divine Pyromaniac
Set the world aflame
Filled me with fire
Infinite.

I’m a conflagration of grace.
The presence shines brightly,
Dissolves, liquefies, forges
A new being — one
With the One
Beyond.

Translucent blaze
Engulfs me, suffuses all
With one feeling
One thought —

Fire flows through my veins —
Brightness — Fire


(c) 2012 by Maja Trochimczyk
Reprinted from Meditations on Divine Names (Moonrise Press, 2012)

The Eggs of Easter

In Polish homes, the week before Easter is the week of Spring cleaning - washing windows, curtains, throwing out unnecessary things, sorting through the clutter. The cooking begins in earnest on Good Friday, that is the day of most solemn and dramatic celebrations in the Church and the most austere Lenten meals at home - pickled herring and potatoes... 

For the Slavic peoples, Easter food is all about eggs: colored beautiful dark red by cooking them in onion-skins, and scraping patterns with needles.  Ukrainians, Poles, Russians, Slovaks, Czechs, Slovenians, and Serbians all have their traditional patterns of decorating Easter eggs. Thus, the new beginnings of the spring have another, equally ancient symbol: the egg. The Romans started things "from the egg" - ab ovo...  

On Easter Saturday, before the solemnities of the Easter Vigil, Poles bring beautifully decorated baskets of food and eggs to be blessed and later shared at Easter brunch. My basket is decorated simply with fragrant orange blossoms from my garden. 

Since I have not written yet any poems about Novruz (or Norooz), Passover, Easter, Easter eggs, or even Easter Bunnies, let me wish everyone a wonderful celebration of new hope, new beginnings and a personal renewal in serenity and joy this spring. I'll sweeten my wishes with a little confection of a poem about one of my most favorite desserts, zupa nic. My mother used to make this ice-cream substitute when there were no ice-cream stands anywhere and a line would form for the rare supply of real vanilla ice-cream at the grocery stores. We had to make do without, thus learning the virtue of ingenuity.

The Taste of the Sky

My mother's zupa nic - soup nothing
had puffy clouds of egg whites
floating in a yellow sea
of delight. I chased them
with my spoon that perfect summer.

I'm floating now
in thinning blue
of Technicolor sky
a meadow for
ten thousand cloud sheep
I cannot count while they
cast shadows
on tidy little gardens
of tidy little houses
of tidy little people

They go about their daily chores
folding sheets, baking bread,
I'm cooking up a storm
of dreams that will soon vanish
like clouds in my soup nothing

The Taste of the Sky - After Magritte, Digital collage by Maja Trochimczyk

What else? If you want to read more about Polish holiday food in poetry, my "mazurka" and "mushroom" poems are posted on the Village Poets Blog, in a report from the March 2012 "Bite Me" Art Exhibition at the McGroarty Arts Center in Tujunga. The Village Poets Poetry Reading held on March 16, 2013 also included poetry about food read by Dorothy Skiles, Marlene Hitt, Joe DeCenzo, Bryan Story, Alice Pero, and Rick Wilson (who read verse by Kathabela Wilson).

http://villagepoets.blogspot.com/2013/03/bite-me-art-exhibit-at-mcgroarty-arts.html

http://villagepoets.blogspot.com/2013/03/more-poetry-at-bite-me-art-exhibition.html

_____________________________________________

Photos of fire, Easter basket, orange blossoms, and yellow sky (C) by Maja Trochimczyk