The Year of the Fire Monkey, the Year of Burning Bright

What is the brightest light? What is that burning, burning, burning bright in the silence of the night?
Not the Fire Monkey, not yet ... For the start of the Chinese Zodiak Year we have to wait to February 8, 2016. Officially we are still in the year of the Goat, after the years of Horse, Snake, Dragon, Rabbit, and Tiger, the last one back in 2010.

purple highlights

cutout the brilliance painted

on the black

The Tiger

William Blake

Tiger Tiger. burning bright,
In the forests of the night;
What immortal hand or eye.
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies.
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand, dare seize the fire?

And what shoulder, & what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat.
What dread hand? & what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain,
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp.
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears
And watered heaven with their tears:
Did he smile His work to see?
Did he who made the lamb make thee?

Tiger Tiger burning bright,
In the forests of the night:
What immortal hand or eye,
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

I find not-so-fearful symmetry in the burning melting golden leaves of the liquid amber tree, so similar to the maple, yet so different, with its colors from pale yellow, through orange, to scarlet, bronze and black purple.

the tree stretches

his leafy fingers to the sun

begging for light

In contrast, the symmetry of the cactus is quite fearful, indeed.  Imagine falling on all those pricks and needles!  That would not have been as comfortable as it might look, the barrels of cactus resembling puffy pillows...

a noon illusion -

spheres of  the softest velvet 

in the field of cactus

call of the Wild West -

bewitched by the turquoise sky

gold of the cactus

Some cactus fields at the Huntington Garden look sinister, ominous, as underwater seabeds, or twisted masses of snakes. Snakes with thorns, and evil teeth, straight from a Halloween movie set...

sea anemones

with spiky hairdos on the rocks

of Gibraltar

horror of horrors -

the twisted mass of nail-toothed limbs

engulfs me

a grey mutant rose

the agave opens its steel spiked petals

to pierce the light 

where are thou, 

my crocodile of sharp teeth

tears lying in wait? 

cactus flowers

stretch their scarlet tongues like flames 

licking the white light

But all horrors pass, and so does the cactus garden ... I walk through a meadow to one of the most astounding and majestic trees I have ever seen, an eucalyptus reaching high, high, high into the sky.  If I were a monkey, maybe I'd be able to climb up its smooth trunk. I can only look up from the ground, admire the multicolored bark.  Imported from Australia, it lives in a foreign landscape. 

tree bark canvas

records droughts and storms

of centuries

above cough drops

eucalyptus leaves stretch up 

to perfume the sky

A Tree Epiphany

 ~ for Kristin who saw a whale in a tree

I want the solid serenity of trees
the sighs of their boughs in the wind

roots reaching to the core of the earth

An oak perhaps, or a grand plane tree

that majestic one in Descanso Gardens

a whale of the tree, floating on waves of air

I could be, perhaps, that regal eucalyptus

with multicolored bark  — a canvas for centuries

shedding memories of droughts and storms

Or liquid amber, oh my liquid amber

melting gold and bronze at my feet

nourishing the roots, seeds, new leaves

Wait for the sleeping earth to awaken

the boughs sigh in the northern wind

the roots reach deeper, still deeper

I adore the trembling of birches in the breeze,

whispering: quiet, quiet, now listen  — before

leaves fall, bare branches shiver in the snow

Am I an apple tree, comely and fruitful

in an abandoned orchard by the crossroads

that shyly offers gifts to all passers-by?

I want the serenity of trees

to fill my heart with their sighs, with their

whispers, with their sleep.

(c) 2016 by Maja Trochimczyk

she said it's a whale

this grand plane tree with white bark

swimming in the air

with spotted whale's skin

half dove-grey, half steel, charcoal 

the plane tree stands tall 

I end the walk, admiring the symmetry of rose petals, and their burning flame in the afternoon sun.

symmetry of petals - 

an incandescent rose flame

mirrors the sun

What a delight it is, and so much hard work of "rosarians" had gone into crafting the perfect rose flame, a rainbow of yellows, tangerines, and fuchsias ... It is a living flame of love, as St. John of the Cross would say... 

I too have my perfect multicolor rose, mostly yellow, with touches of apricot and plum. The last survivor of the blight caused by weedkiller accidentally added to the soil...

gold petals unfold

the day fades into shadows - 

my last winter rose

I picked the photograph and wrote the haiku for this haiga to give it out as a gift at the annual Southern California Haiku Study Group post-New Year party at Debbie Kolodji's welcoming house. A rose filled with light, yet speaking of shadows seemed a perfect choice for the year of the Fire Monkey. No, I could not write about monkeys, not even Shakespeare's Monkeys...

As a vain and energetic "Fire Rooster" I have great hopes for the year of the Fire. I will end this tour of the Huntington with a selfie among fuchsia and violet flowers. May your year of the Fire Monkey flower with positive energy and creativity! 

Happy New Year 2016!

Poets on Site at the Colonnade Gallery in Pasadena

Tim Callahan reads, Mira Mataric, Maja Trochimczyk and Hans Zima listen, Colonnade Gallery, Pasadena, March 2, 2013.

On March 2, 2013, Poets on Site and artists gathered at the Colonnade Art Gallery in Pasadena (2421 E. Colorado Blvd.Pasadena, CA 91107), for the Opening Reception and Poetry Reading for this month's exhibition, featuring, among others, artists Kathabela Wilson, Debby Prohias, Galen Young, Robert Stewart, Ron Pettie (gallery owner), and Hans Zima.

Poets on Site included, in person, Tim Callahan, Taura Scott, Bryan Story, Mira Mataric, Pat McClelland, Debbie Kolodji, Robert Stewart and Kathabela Wilson, as well as off-site poets who sent their work from around the world: Billy Howell-Sinnard, Joan Stern, Sheila Windsor, Veronika Zora Novak, John Daleiden, Pauline Dutton, Vivian Lee, Gary Blankenship, Chris Dominiczak, Josie Hibbing, Willie Bongky, Erika Wilk, Brian Zimmer, Michele Harvey, Dalton Perry, Richard Dutton, Tomislav Maretic, Gerry Jacobson, Pat Geyer, and Jonathan Vos Post. The readings were accompanied by Rick Wilson on Native-American flutes from his astounding flute collection.

I selected three pieces to write about: a photo collage of Yosemite Falls and Cactus Flower by Debby Prohias, a Camellia by Galen Young, and a Death Valley photo by Hans Zima. Debby was so delighted with having a poem written about her piece, that she gave me a camellia! It decorated my lapel in some pictures taken right next to her artwork.

Debby Prohias listens to "Flower Falls" by Maja Trochimczyk

Flower Falls

by Maja Trochimczyk

If stars grew on rocks

And hills flowed with
Liquid light and honey

Would we still doubt
The life force asleep
Inside black basalt stone

Dancing in crisp verdant air
With a sycamore leaf, falling
To awaken in the roots

Of the roots beneath
The earth's surface, filling 
Our veins with sunlight

Yosemite Falls and Cactus Flower by Debby Prohias

She then commented about my poem, Flower Falls, being “such a beautiful way of expressing the feeling of being present in Yosemite and the discovery of a flower that came to open in our backyard.” The flower was that of an elusive night-blooming cereus, a nocturnal miracle, rarely seen, and made even more magical by Debby’s photo collage. The camellia blossom proved to be quite useful in the second poem I read, since the Camellia by Galen Young was not on display. While the camelia I got was pink, my poem may be illustrated with a picture of a white camellia, that I took at Descanso Gardens this spring.

White Camellia by Maja Trochimczyk

Asleep

by Maja Trochimczyk

in the corona

of white petals

gold treasure

waits for its fruit

dark green leaves

color the air, drop

onto the sidewalk

tired of sunlight

the smoothness

of petals shelters

a dream always

blooming within

I followed my reading of this slow, misty and sensuous poem with one filled with joyful exuberance. The contrast between Rick Dutton's work and mine, and the shifting mood of the readings perfectly illustrated the essence of Poets on Site work: creative encounters of different poets with the same artwork and the richness of inspiration that the arts may provide.

Nonetheless, I was not happy with the way my other poem for Hans Zima’s photograph did not quite fit the image I saw live. I had written it to a photograph posted online: the desert looked empty and sad, with muted colors waiting for rain and life to awaken. But the rocks of the original photo in the gallery were an explosion of energy and color, under an intense turquoise-sapphire sky. This is why it is so important to go to exhibitions and see the artwork “live” – in its original form. What’s online “blah” in real life is “aha!” (The same rule is applicable to live concerts, especially with acoustic instruments).

Dissatisfied, I wrote another poem for Mr. Zima right then and there, to another photo from Death Valley. It showed a broad panorama of red sands leading into distant, dark blue mountains, shrouded with mist. The intense hues of this unusual landscape resonated with a feeling of timelessness that, coupled with the Death Valley name, resulted in a spiritual inspiration. Hans was very happy with the poem and commented: “I was amazed how you could create such a beautiful work of art in just a few minutes.” I answered that it “wrote itself” and I just transcribed it. It is a good poem for the awakening of the spring and the Easter season.

Death Valley Sunset by Hans Zima

Death Valley Sunset

~ inspired by a landscape photo by Hans Zima

now it ends

we've come to the edge

the last bush, the last drop of water

it's over....

the red sands wait, immobile

sinking into crimson

darkness

whale bones of white rocks

poke through 

it's over...

it's time for the dark to claim us

exhausted

on the arid, salty plain

we'll walk and walk

for forty days, to the other edge

of Death Valley

we will cross shadows, enter 

misty mountains, sparkling streams

and sunrise

hidden, alluring, they call to us:

"come, come along,

do not fear"

we will reach beyond  

rest in the lapis-lazuli expanse

of new-born sky

© 2013 by Maja Trochimczyk

Debbie Kolodji, Rick Wilson, Kathabela Wilson and Maja Trochimczyk at
the Opening Night at the Colonnade Gallery in Pasadena.

______________________________________________

The Colonnade Gallery Opening Night was one in a series of recent Poets on Site poetry events that included also a wonderful reading for Susan Dobay's Impressions of China at the Altadena Public Library on February 9, 2013 (where I read poems written to Dobay's images of a bride and three old women).

Another poem  of mine written to that series of Chinese travel impressions was published in the Quill and Parchment poetry journal (March issue). It welcomed spring in a light-hearted mood, with "A Skipping Lesson." The poem is accompanied by the image by Susan Dobay that inspired  my work and by four tanka by Poets on Site: Kathabela Wilson, Erika Wilk, Pauline Dutton and Huang Yiwei. 

Sharon Hawley, Joan Stern, Susan Dobay, Rick Dutton, Rick Wilson, Taura Scott,  Bryan Story, Kathabela Wilson, Just Kibbe, Pauli Dutton, Erika Wilk and Maja Trochimczyk at the opening of Impressions of China by Susan Dobay, Altadena Public Gallery, February 2013.

Finally, Poets on Site and friends met at a Poets' Cafe Listening Party at Kathabela and Rick's Salon in Pasadena on February 21, 2013. The reading there featured Kathabela Wilson, Susan Rogers, Neil McCarthy, myself and Mira Mataric - five poets featured by Lois P. Jones at Poets Cafe. Our interviews are now found on Tim Green's website.

Maja Trochimczyk with Kathabela Wilson, reading "The Music Box" at the Poets Cafe Listening Party, February 2013.

I read my "Music Box" (with a music box) that was specifically requested by the host of the Radio Program whom we could hear, during the KPFK fundraising drive, while collecting funds to help poetry on air "live long and prosper."

Mira Mataric, Kathabela Wilson, Susan Rogers and Maja Trochimczyk,
Poets Cafe Listening Party at the Wilson's Salon.

And if that was not enough, my article on Polish Folk Dance movement in America and its paradoxical inspiration by a Stalinist genre has appeared in the Cosmopolitan Review, a journal dedicated to Polish culture in English. This article resulted from a book I published in 2007 on Polish Dance in Southern California; another, fully annotated version of the article appeared in the Polish American Studies (available on JStor.
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The camellia photo (c) 2013 by Maja Trochimczyk, other photos courtesy of Kathabela Wilson.