Three Postcards from Paris of Ron Libbrecht

Last October I went to Paris for a week as a guest of the Polish Institute and one of the speakers at the International Conference on Maria Szymanowska.

After coming back I saw Ron Libbrecht's watercolor from Paris and a series of ekphrastic poems was born. Hilda Weiss of Poetry LA recorded them and posted on the site and on YouTube. The poems and the inspirational paintings were also published in a monthly online journal, Quill and Parchment, vol. 100, July 2012.


THREE POSTCARDS FROM PARIS

~ inspired by Ron Libbrecht's watercolors and a trip to Paris




 1. A New View of Pont Neuf, Paris

It is not that I do not want to rest here
On this greenest of grasses
In the shadow of massive branches
Of London plane trees, platane commun,
Maple leaf planes, Platanus hispanica,
It is just that my geography is as confused
As that of the tree – Polish, Canadian
Californian – everything I see
Carries multiple shadows of things remembered
Doppelgänger of memories
Like that park with a sandbox and benches
By the Zoo in Warsaw where we ate white clouds
Of candy-floss under the poplars
Discussing the shape of spots on the neck
Of the giraffe and hippopotamus’s awful teeth



2. The Tower and the Crane

After I filled my eyes with the splendor
Of stained glass rainbows at La Sainte Chapelle
An orgy of royal fleur-de-lis
With cranes and ravens carved into the floor
Medieval creatures waiting for a sign
To spread their wings in flight

Exhausted by history
I looked for a bench not smelling of urine
Under the sky’s pure crystal
Watercolor birds from the pages of Audubon
Stopped me at a bouquiniste’s stand
Near Quai Voltaire

Should I get the crane for a blessing of long life?
Or a kingfisher? Hopkins said they “catch fire,
Dragonflies draw flame”

To each their own – I choose a poster
With the flags and balloons
Of the 1889 World Fair
They billow and float around the edifice
Of stainless steel, Eiffel's glory

I know, I know – the stone carvings
Of beaks, claws, and beady eyes
Will outlive me and my paper Tower

3. Paris, October
 
On the way back
To the Institute Polonais
Not far from the twisted flames
Where Princess Diana died
In the tunnels under Pont d’Alma
I walk by a maple and a young oak
Encircled by wrought-iron fence
An oasis of gold and bronze
Among the streets, cars, metal rivers
Of the 16-eme Arrondissement

Sales are brisk at Chanel and Versace
During the Paris Fashion Week
Charcoal and diamonds are in style
The black-clad models look indifferent
Not one of them dressed
In the splendor of lilies
The richness of autumn leaves

I wonder

Sheltered by sunlight,
We find refuge from cosmic wind
And the gnashing of teeth
In the darkness outside
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Paintings by Ron Libbrecht, copied by permission.
YouTube Reading by Poetry LA: Maja Trochimczyk at Bolton Hall, February 2012

Publication: Quill and Parchment, vol. 100, July 2012

Midsummer Lessons from Mars and Lascaux

 It is never too late to learn something new. Two bits of scientific knowledge have recently captured my attention. First, a new method of dating ancient artifacts with radioactive isotopes resulted in rewriting the chronology of Paleolithic art: apparently, the astounding frescoes of bisons and horses in the caves of Lascaux, France, were not painted 20,000 years ago by our direct ancestors, homo sapiens, but, instead, were created over 43,000 years ago when Europe was inhabited by the Neanderthals. Therefore, we have to change our preconceived notion of the hairy Neanderthals as ape-like primitive brutes. What a discovery!

Second, the inventive laboratory-on-wheels Curiosity landed on Mars without a glitch and began sending back to Earth photographs of its rocky surroundings. I had seen a life-size model of the probe during the annual open house at JPL: with legs taller than me and two wheels on each leg, this futuristic vehicle was able to drive in any direction, over piles of rocks under one leg and smooth sand under another. On a Sunday night in August I was a guest at JPL’s California control station watching the Curiosity landing – or, rather, watching rows of engineers in blue shirts doing something important and intently staring at their screens. We enjoyed lectured lectures by JPL staff between computer animations of Martian landscapes traversed by the spacecraft, while waiting for the numbers on a small screen on the side to confirm that all engines fired, the silicone parachute deployed, all temperature sensors reported normal data, etc. Not only was it a “blind” landing on instruments alone: the landing was actually operated by the machines pre-programmed to follow a certain course of action.

The radio signal, traveling at the speed of light, takes nearly 15 minutes to come to Earth from Mars. Our screens reported each stage of the action 15 minutes after it already happened! What a feat of human ingenuity! But this 15-minute delay also tells us how important it is to live in the present, here on Earth (Memento Vitae). We are stuck here, for now. It is really too far to go somewhere else.


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A poem of mine, "Memento Vitae" was published in Serbian translation in the largest daily paper; French, Spanish and Chinese versions are in the works… Thanks to my friend Dr. Mira Mataric, who translated five of my poems for a Serbian literary journal, I now have a publication in the same alphabet (though not language) than my Belorussian grandparents used. The publication in the daily paper was quite a surprise. I hope we all cherish our lives 43,000 years after the Neanderthals first decorated their caves. How? Read my poem "A Lesson for my Daughter!" But first comes a reflection from the beach...

    Walking on Seashells

broken pieces of fish bones
lie scattered by the tide
where sandpipers feed

hermit crabs move into empty shells
whose former inmates
lost their future, devoured

the ocean of death surrounds us

ants troop in and out of the eye
of the beetle that lies
in the middle of my path

crushed sea shells paint the beach
bone-white – prickly sand
slowly changes into rock

fossils capture cruel snapshots
of transient past

unperturbed, we march on,
treading on traces of old tragedies

insects die first, yet outlive us
we do not mind their deaths
 
with a gaze fixed above,
we ignore countless incidents
of random murders, as we walk into
the gaping mouth of the Behemoth

 Memento Vitae 

Let's talk about dying.
The gasp of last breath.
The end. Or maybe not,
We don't know.
Let's talk about the last day.
What would you do
if you knew?
Whom would you love?
Would you find your dearest,
most mysterious love?
Or would you just stay
in the circle of your own?
Would you rob, steal
or insult anyone?
Would you cry?
Burn your papers?
If the fabric of your future
shrank to one day,
or maybe just an hour?

Let's talk about living, then.
The next breath,
that will take you
to the next minute,
the next heartbeat.

Just about – now.

© 2008 by Maja Trochimczyk
  

A Lesson for My Daughter 

After a ruby-colored glass of Merlot
I told my daughter the secret of the Universe.
I solved it at noon, by the river.

Questions do not matter.
The right answer to life is: "Yes."
If you build a circle of "Yes" around you,
Affirming the essence of beauty,
You'll be safe.

If you say "I love you" to everyone
(Very quietly so they can't hear, but you know),
You'll walk in a sphere of gladness
No insult or curse may pierce.

You'll be whole and holy:
Living deeply where love blossoms,
Laughter bubbles, and joy overflows.


© 2006 by Maja Trochimczyk      __________________________________________

NOTE: Photos from San Francisco and Los Angeles, (C) 2012 by Maja Trochimczyk