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... 

The Spring... Ahhh, The Spring...

Here, The first day of spring. The Equinox. The day is as long as the night. From now on it will become longer until summer solstice in June. Ancient Persians celebrated it with the holiday of New Year, the Norooz, Nowrooz, or Nowruz in English. On the night before, they had a large bonfire and they jumped over the flames. The moment of passing through the flames was the moment of purification. The fire burned all evil in the past, all bad things, bad thoughts, bad emotions: the horrors, the failures, the hurts. Sins and regrets. Evil burden of rocks carried in the sack on our backs. The fire strengthened the spirit with new life-force, energy, pure light. It destroyed the evil past of dark shadows and gave birth to the light-filled future. Persians do it now, too. It is pre-Islamic custom, from an ancient Zoroastran religion, where forces of darkness and light always fought in the world, in people's souls and minds.

burn, burn, burn

darkness into light

 white fire

Cherry Tree by Maja Trochimczyk

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DvDxBt9RVKs

Ancient Slavic peoples, including Poles, also had this custom, this ritual of jumping over the fire - only it was held at Summer Solstice in June, on the shortest night of the year. Once I learned about the Persians, I understood why. But I never did that, I'm afraid of fire. I'm not a jumper. Not a sports person, either, except for swimming and sailing. I'd love to have a sailboat on a lake, somewhere. Not on the ocean. I do not like salty water. I do not trust the ocean, I'm afraid of tsunamis. That's why I bought a house in the mountains, on high ground.

drowning

in an ocean of tears

dreams of sweet water

All religions have this element of purification, cleansing the soul, healing in the spring. New light, new life. Freedom and joy. In Christianity we have the sacrament of baptism (I was baptized as an adult, so I remember clearly the moment of passing through from darkness to light), the confession (that one is scary, with so many corrupt priests), the Mass and eating light-filled bread (my favorite), and the yearly calendar of rituals - Christmas, the birth of light at Winter Solstice, and Easter, the triumph of light at Spring Equinox.

sun rises

a round loaf of bread

in pre-dawn sky

Constant Return I by Julian Stanczak (1965)

line follows line
gravitational waves
bend cosmos

In a Japanese religion, or spiritual practice of Sukyo Mahikari, the Carriers of Light, people use light to heal each other. The centers of the palms of your hands emit healing light, pure energy that can be directed at someone's head or body, various "knots" of toxic thoughts, toxins in the body. The light dissolves the knots, purifies. The palms tingle a bit when you do it. I went to a spiritual center several times and was purified in this way. I had lots of "knots" to disentangle, lots of toxins to remove, a lifetime of hurt.

I give you

light filled with light

what else?

If pink wasn't pink

would you 

wake up, still? 

Ambika Talwar, Susan Rogers, Lois P. Jones and Maja Trochimczyk

Susan Rogers, a friend who is a member of this group, is a great poet. In our group, called the Spiritual Quartet and active for a while, we used to call her a "hummingbird" - for she constantly flickers around, is always in motion, always busy. We also had Lois P. Jones, the fiery "phoenix" reborn from the flames of self-destruction, and Taoli-Ambika Talwar, the proud and royal "peacock" (the bird is a national symbol of India, her home country).

birds scatter

feathers dance

on spring breeze

Who am I? My friends called me a "dove"  of gentleness, serenity, and love. I wrote so many love poems, and read them with such affection, I'm just filled with love, or so it seems... But the Dove is also the Holy Spirit, also the bird that Noah sent from his Arc three times to find dry land after the flood. Two times, it came back with nothing, but the third time it brought back a twig of green, for peace, for the end of the flood, for the spring.

above waves

a dove shines green

in sunlight

mirror says

to the sky

I win

orange cup

of nectar 

verdant dream

_______________________

Meanwhile... I went to the Colliding Rhymes Poetry Reading organized by a fellow Poet Laureate of Sunland-Tujunga, Joe DeCenzo. It was on March 16, at the McGroarty Arts Center, in Tujunga, a part of their Arts at Play Festival. I heard some of my most favorite poets - Sean Hill, a hip-hop artist with a heart of gold and the most astounding mouth capable of making sound effects and reciting a whole segment of hip hop, without a single curse!

Then, there was the surreal Just Kibbe, with his text-message-acronym poetry book and the ibis portrait, Jessica Wilson and Juan Cardenas, the bohemian lovebirds - a poetess and her flutist - and Neil McCarthy, still straight from Ireland, and still in his torn jeans and sandals... For this reading, Justin Kibbe repainted his car yellow - for sun, for Sunland - and asked poets to write on it. Here's my poem, based on a saying by Britta Muehlbach of Phoenix House.

Britta says:

"I fearlessly speak

my truth with love"

I smile, in silence

And here's another very short poem... that I saw, but did not write. I like it. We are what we do, after all...

Tulips in Descanso (FB Album)