Poetry Audio Tour of the Pacific Asia Museum

When you are tired and have a headache - write a poem. When you are happy you do not know what to do with yourself - write another poem. When you look at a beautiful piece of art - write a poem again. Then, burn the first poem, hide the second, and record the third...

This is how we - over 30 California poets - have created the amazing new Audio Tour celebrating the 40th anniversary of the Pacific Asia Museum in Pasadena.

This Poets on Site Project was created under the guidance of the Museum's Education Director, Amelia Chapman, and thanks to the good graces of the indefatigable poets and artists, Kathabela and Rick Wilson - who organized, coordinated, and recorded the entire set. The poets have completed describing over 50 artworks from various Asian countries that are currently presented at the Museum. Their voices are accompanied by Rick Wilson who plays some of his amazing flutes from around the world. The instruments are named after each poem on the recordings.

All the poetry stops are now uploaded by the museum and can be heard on the phone from anywhere! How to listen? First dial 626-628-9690 then the number and the number sign, #.



The exhibition and the audio tour stops are divided into several categories, as follows:

The Art of Daily Life
• Tibetan Rug - Nora DeMuth, Sharon Hawley 404#
• Tibetan Table - Kath Abela Wilson, Monica Lee Copland 405#
• Rhini Horn Cup - Kath Abela Wilson Pauli Dutton 406#
• Thai Bowl - Constance Griesmer 407#
• Thai Bottle Vase - Constance Griesmer 408#
• Vietnam Charger with Myna Birds - Constance Griesmer, Pauli Dutton 409#
• Bilim (Bilum) Bag - Taoli-Ambika Talwar, Erika Wilk, Mira Mataric 410#
• Ink Box and Stand - Taura Scott, Kath Abela Wilson, Pauli Dutton 411#
• Horseshoe Chair (China) - Pauli Dutton, Alice Pero 412#


The Beauty of Nature
• Eagle in a Snowstorm - Sharon Hawley, Chris Wesley, M. Kei (read by Just Kibbe) 415#
• Persimmon and Pine Trees by a Stream - Christine Jordan, Erika Wilk, Deborah P Kolodji 416#
• Plum Blossoms in the Moonlight - Nora De Muth, Janis Lukstien, Kath Abela Wilson 417#
• Mt. Fuji in Clear Weather - Kath Abela Wilson, Nora DeMuth, Liz Goetz 418#
• Landscape after Snowfall - Ashley Baldon 419#
• Ducks and Lotus - Christine Jordan, Ashley Baldon, Deborah P Kolodji 420#
• Monkey Performing the Sanbaso Dance - Mira Mataric, Just Kibbe 421#
• Origins of Life (Korea) - Janis Lukstein, Sharon Hawley, Taoli-Ambika Talwar 422#


Wisdom and Longevity
• Yam Mask (New Guinea) - Cindy Rinne 426#
• Incense Burner - Nora DeMuth 427#
• Fukurojin - Nora DeMuth 428#
• Shou (Longevity) - Richard Dutton, Ashley Baldon, Joan Stern 429#
• Canoe Prow (New Guinea) - Cindy Rinne 430#


Religion and Faith
• Bodhisattva in Yab-yum Embrace - Genie Nakano 435#
• Vishnu and Garuda - Ashley Baldon, Christine Jordan 436#
• Daoist Priest Robe - Nora DeMuth, Pauli Dutton 437#
• Buddhist Five-point Crown - Genie Nakano, Mira Mataric 438#
• The Goddesses Durga and Kali Fighting the Demon Hordes - Pauli Dutton 439#
• Kensui (waste water bowl) - Peggy Casto, Kah Abela Wilson 440#
• Le Genie San Noms. Corée - Mel Weisburd, Monica Lee Copland, Joan Stern 441#
• Bodhisattva (Tibet) - Sharon Rizk, Nancy Ellis Taylor 442#
• Yamantaka Mandala - James Won 443#
• Bodhisattva (China) - Susan Rogers 444#
• Buddha (Pakistan) - Maja Trochimczyk 445#
• Seated Buddha (Korea) - Susan Rogers 446#
• Lohan and Attendant - Radomir Vojtech Luza 447#
• Goblins and Ghosts - Liz Goetz 448#


Status and Adornment
• Courtesan Reading a Letter - Deborah P. Kolodji, Monica Lee Copland 450#
• Kogo (Incense Box) - Sharon Hawley 451#
• Netsuke: Mask of Danjuro - Mel Weisburd 452#
• Netsuke: Pomander - Mari Werner 453#
• Netsuke: Horse - Joan Stern, Mari Werner 454#
• Gau (Protective Amulet) - Maja Trochimczyk 455#
• Female Figure - Mel Weisburd, Beverly M. Collins 456#
• Prince (India) - Kath Abela Wilson, Genie Nakano 457#
• Charger (Celadon) - Alice Pero 458#
• Charger (Qilin) - Mel Weisburd 459#
• Marriage Bowl - Rick Wilson 460#
• Earrings with Crab Motif - Susan Rogers, Nancy Ellis Taylor 461#
• Pair of Sleevebands - Erika Wilk 462#
• Pair of Bound-Foot Shoe - Chris Wesley, Taura Scott, Nora DeMuths 463#
• Ji-fu (Man’s Semi-formal Court Robe) - Maja Trochimczyk, Mari Werner 464#
• Head Ornament (New Guinea) - Cindy Rinne 465#



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I wrote three poems for this exhibition and like the most "A Box of Peaches" (no. 455#), but its "thanksgiving" theme makes it more suitable to the month of November. Of the other two, "An Embroidery Lesson" focuses on an ornately decorated courtier's robe, called Ji-Fu. The same robe has also inspired Mari Werner to write about embroidery. Here is my poem.

An Embroidery Lesson

Tonight we’ll count the clouds
The blue splendor of courtier’s robes
Awaits them

We’ll take a long silk thread
And wrap it with a filament of gold
Until it shines like ocean sunrise

We’ll catch the bright flames of the fire
Of red-eyed dragons that prance
And snarl on the hem

Their talons stretch towards a mandala
Resting above cobalt swirls
Of midnight rain

This, an unspoken secret
The serpent eats its tail
The end is the beginning

Look, it moves across the sky
Chasing a flock of gold-rimmed clouds
Let’s count them



___________________________

Rick Wilson improvised on the following flutes from his personal collection:

Japan: A shakuhachi was used to accompany poems about Japanese
objects. The instrument is a little over 21 inches long and made of thick, heavy bamboo. It is held vertically and sounded by directing the breath towards an straight edge carved out of one open end. The instrument is very expressive.

China: On the recordings of poems about Chinese objects, a xiao was played. This instrument is held vertically and has a notch carved in one end. It is made of bamboo; it is lighter than the shakuhachi, but longer. It has a mellow sound.

Korea: A Korean danso was played for the poems about Korean
objects. This instrument is a notched end-blown flute like the xiao but is smaller and higher pitched.

India: The bansuri is a bamboo flute played transversely (horizontally) in India and nearby regions. A large bansuri of the type played in Northern India was used to accompany poems on objects from this nation. The instrument is mellow sounding and is played legato with frequent portamento.

Tibet: A small transverse flute made in Nepal, a type of bansuri, was used for poems on Tibetan objects.

Vietnam: A small transverse cane flute purchased in Hanoi, a sao truc, was played for poems on pieces from Vietnam.

Indonesia: A suling, a traditional flute from Bali, was played on the recording of poems from Indonesia. This flute is a an example of a duct
flute, which produces sound like a recorder or whistle.

Thailand: A wide-bore recorder was used as a substitute for the Thai khlui,a duct flute, on the recording of a poem about a bowl from Thailand.

New Guinea: Flutes are not common in Papua New Guinea, and a bamboo mouth harp made in the Philippines is played, in lieu of the traditional bamboo models found in the former country, for the poems on New Guinean pieces.

________________________________


At the end, though, Rick Wilson switched from music to describing his beloved wife in a poem inspired by The Marriage Bowl (460#)- comparing Kathabela to an elegant, golden, and magical dragon. She recently celebrated her birthday, and I honored her with a little birthday-wish poem, also describing her magical abilities:

For Kathabela

Hail to the Queen of Many Hats!
The Sprite with multicolored notebooks
collecting treasures, pictures, smiles.
Let's laugh with the pixie sprinkling magic dust
on each minute and gesture. Let's hear
the weaver of words, spinning poems
out of tea cups, necklaces and clouds.
Long live the Queen of Pentacles,
presiding on the Throne of Earthly Riches
over her court of jesters, knights, and lovers.
Let's praise the wisdom of a sage,
the charm of a dancer,
and the devotion of a whirling dervish -
hidden in her secret name, revealed
in the kaleidoscope of her art!



__________________________

The pictures are from Japan (Kathabela and Rick Wilson), from the courtyard of the Pacific Asia Museum (with Erika Wilk, photo by Kathabela Wilson), from recording sessions at Kathabela and Rick's salon in Pasadena, and from another exhibition of Poets and Artists at Susan Dobay's Scenic Drive Gallery in Monrovia (at 125 Scenic Drive, by appointment only).

Invited to contribute to the Poets and Artists Exhibition, I made two collages, one with a digital art piece and four "klosy" of wheat, illustrating my poem, "Tiger Nights." I made and framed this collage as a gift for Kathabela's Birthday (it is above her head in the photo). So here's a poem and an artwork, as a tribute to the spiritus movens of the Poetry Audio Tour at the Pacific Asia Museum.

Living in the Moment... Looking, Seeing, Breathing, Picking Mushrooms

Thanks to the lovely hostess, Elena Secota, and friendly poets and musicians the featured reading at the Rapp Saloon was very enjoyable. I even had a bass-guitar accompaniment to some of my poems, including "Look at me..." inspired by Ella Fitzgerald's version of Misty.

Rocky played the melody during the poem's refrains and was silent during the narrative stanzas. It worked very well! The poem itself is published on this blog, as well as in the Loch Raven Review.  My reading of this poem is on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TJzzOId3KCY&feature=youtu.be

"Look at me..."

               the dark honey of Ella's voice 

                               filled the valley with a golden sheen

The bike stopped at the red light.

The biker looked at me intently.

All in black leather, he did not seem familiar.

              the dark honey of Ella's voice 

                                 spilled onto the asphalt

The light changed to green. I was touched 

by the brightness in his eyes as he drove by, 

turning his head, clearly off-balance. He stopped 

to gaze at my metallic Honda.  I felt his surprise. 

             the dark honey of Ella's voice 

                               blossomed in an aftertaste of sweetness

I knew he realized who I was, 

the woman he found irresistible again 

and again and again. I wonder if he told 

his girlfriend about our sunny encounter. 

 

          the dark honey of Ella's voice 

                       flowed over the wonderland --

                               the dark honey, oh, the dark honey

The country road led me towards live oak

and grassy slopes, shining yellow and bronze.

There was no hatred, just being alive 

after the storm. I was silent. I had nothing to say.

(C) 2009 by Maja Trochimczyk

 My listeners liked it a lot, but the greatest impact on the audience was made by another, older poem of a more philosophical nature. 

I wrote "Memento Vitae" after the death of a good friend. The title, modeled on a medieval monks' maxim, Memento Mori (Remember Death), means "Remember Life." 

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.

   

Soon after presenting my work to a very gracious audience at what should be called "Poetry Salon at the Saloon," I was on the way to the High Sierras for my first real vacation in years - without the internet, TV, or Blackberry. I was off the grid, wandering around lush mountain meadows and forests, while the Kadafi regime fell and Hurricane Irene was approaching New York. 

A week in the wilderness was a time of tranquility, rest, and spiritual revival. I listened to the breeze singing in the tops of the trees, as they whispered and sighed. I swam in the cold mountain lake every morning, leaving my worries "in my wake" - and I wrote a poem about it. Since it is still unfinished, here is a humorous testimonial to picking wild mushrooms among tall pine trees and delicate aspen.

On Mushrooms 

In the forest of Christmas trees for giants 

I look for the shapes of mushrooms I used to 

Know well – hiding in tall grass under the aspen, 

Beneath piles of pine needles and bark 

Prawdziwek – the true one, 

 The king of the forest, Boletus 

Rules in unexpected places 

Among birch twigs and Douglas fir 

Osaki, Kozaki – his second-rate, 

 Still lovely cousins wait in the shade 

Among manzanita, wild currants and fern. 

Osak

I find bitter, colorful szatans, 

Pretending to be true pale muchomory

My grandma used to kill flies 

In a glass filled with sugar water 

Szatan, inedible lookalike of a Prawdziwek

Psie grzybki (Dog's 'shrooms) have very thin stems, blades under the cup.

Psie grzybki fit for a dog 

That would not eat them 

And twisted, tree-growing huba 

I do not know how to cook. 

My share of mushrooms? 

The toxic lookalikes of true ones! 

That’s all there is in this 

Enchanted forest for me. 

And this is why, my dears, 

I wrote And you read Confessions 

Of a Failed Mushroom-picker.

 Picking mushrooms is a great activity, as it takes your mind off everything, since it requires all the attention you have to spot and claim the mushrooms hidden under pine needles or in the grass. Next year I might be more lucky and actually find some... Besides, I do have to swim around that rocky island in the middle of the lake, with just one pine tree on it!

________________________ 

 All poems and nature photographs (c) 2008-2011 by Maja Trochimczyk. 

Portrait of Maja and Rocky by Elena Secota.

The Watermelon Festival and the Rapp Saloon

When I last went to the Rapp Saloon, I thought that visit would be that, "last." I did not find the majority of the poetry I heard there, with an overabundance of one letter, "f," to be of much interest. I decided to skip driving that far for so little. However, I made a friend there, Elena Secota, who turned out to be a fascinating poet in her own right. She now hosts one of the weekly Friday Open Readings and books her own monthly features. I am very glad that thanks to her invitation, I will be able to re-visit the Rapp Saloon and see the changes that her high-class act has brought to this establishment. My appearance is planned for Friday, August 19, 2011 at 8:30 p.m. To honor the vibe of the place, I'll read a darker, more edgy fare than at the recent Moonday feature, where it was all about awakenings...

THE RAPP SALOON - POETRY READING HOSTED BY ELENA SECOTA
1436, 2nd STREET, (between Broadway & Santa Monica Blvd)
Santa Monica, California 90401

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POETRY AT THE WATERMELON FESTIVAL IN SUNLAND


The Magnificent Four, or the Village Poets of Sunland Tujunga: Joe DeCenzo, Marlene Hitt, Dorothy Skiles and yours truly, created and managed a new element at the 50th Annual Watermelon Festival, held at Sunland Park on Saturday, August 13, 2011, from 1:30 p.m. to 4:30 p.m. The Poetry Corner presented new, original poetry for children along with well-known classics by Shel Silverstein, A.A. Milne, and Rudyard Kipling (The Tale of Elephant Child). We recited English and Polish tongue-twisters and sang humorous rhyming children's songs. The model of a home-setting with children's chairs on a giant comforter, scattered with zebra pillows and stuffed animals, was created at a poetry event for the Puppetry Festival at McGroarty Art Center last year.

Each of the four poets contributed something: Joe brought the baloons and comforter, Dorothy donated the gifts, Marlene lent us a mike, and I had signs, books, and more comforters and stuffed animals that I cared to carry from my car... Our fifth member, Barry Ira Geller, did not make it, though contributed to advance publicity of the event.

Children came with their parents to rest for 10 - 15 minutes from the hectic pace and excitement of the festival. They sat quietly, listened, read poems from the books provided by poets, and picked up their prizes - colorful balloons and little toys. We planned on two hours, but filled out three - due to the constant ebb and flow of the audience it was hard to find a good time to pack up and go. We are happy that Beverly Collins once again brought her poetry to share in Sunland.

I do not write for children and certainly do not write in rhyme, so I was especially pleased that Joe DeCenzo read from his Ballad of a Hawk and twice recited a very amusing, brand-new poem-game, helping children to learn the names of body parts in English. In his poem, the last word of each couplet is missing and children have to guess what it is..."head" or "chin" or "shin." I noticed quite a few children who were English learners and this was a very good lesson for them.

We also had a couple of older children reading from our stack of books - picking poems they found funny. My contribution included poems "What I love in Sunland" and "On the Beach" for Father's Day, as well as two New Year's Haiku about the Year of the Rabbit. I also sang about The Old Woman Who Swallowed a Fly and recited tongue-twisters about the winsome woodchuck and the warbling warbler, and, my favorite, a Polish beetle rustling in the rushes:

W Szczebrzeszynie chrzaszcz brzmi w trzcinie
a w Trzemiesznie straszy jeszcze postrach oczu strzyg!

Next year? More poets, and some limericks, I think... the G-rated ones, of course.

__________________________________________

UPDATE ON THE POETRY PICNIC IN BENICIA

The Poetry Picnic of August 6, 2011, went very well according to Benicia's Poet Laureate, photographer and organizer extraordinaire, Ronna Leon. She created lots of wonderful poetry posters and other materials to distribute at the event and through the Poem Homes installations in the community.

My poem dedicated to Henry Fukuhara and inspired by a digital artwork by Beth Shibata, "Sundance" was printed in color as a broadside and I'm very happy to see this attractive poster at my home.

_________________________________________________

NOTE: All photos from the Poetry Corner at the Watermelon Festival in Sunland, held on Saturday, August 13, 2011.

Tigers, Orchards, and Moonday (August 8)

The famed Moonday in the Village Poetry Reading will feature myself & Lucia Galloway during the August event that will take place at a private home at 14839 West Sunset Blvd, Pacific Palisades, CA 90272 on Monday, August 8, 2011 at 7:30 p.m. Moonday is a once-a- month poetry venue, co-produced by Alice Pero & Lois P.Jones. There will also be an open reading. See www.moondaypoetry.com for more details.

A featured reading is a self-portrait; every time I have to pick a set of poems for a feature I wonder about "the type of a person do I want to present." Since I am a community poet, a complete and proud "amateur" (lover) of poetry, I do not have to follow the rigors and snobbery of the poetry world. I've seen enough of that in the academic music world to give the whole thing a pass. I often write and read love poems. These are welcomed very warmly, but too often misunderstood. Written in the first person, they impress some of my listeners with an idea that the poems are autobiographical and talk about real people and events that transpired in my life. While fragments of experiences and deeply felt emotions served as the foundation for each of these poems, the events as described in the poems did not happen.

After one reading, a female listener came up to me all excited and moved by one of the faux romances I just read with great sincerity and conviction. She breathlessly asked: "And what happened then to the guy that gave you the ring?" "What ring?" I answered. There was no guy with a ring. There was no ring. Or, rather, there was one, but in a jewelery store window... Several poems that I selected for Moonday belong to this category, including two reproduced below. They fit the spirit of the late summer very well - the time of the Hollywood Bowl and outings to the countryside.

Tiger Nights juxtaposes a strange dream with a re-imagined concert at the Hollywood Bowl, with Joshua Bell as the soloist. It is written in the first person, to strengthen the immediacy of the experience and the intimacy of the voice. The poem appears to be a favorite of editors and publishers, as it was selected to appear in The Epiphany Magazine (No. 6, 2011), along with my profile for the Poets' Cafe radio interview, posted on Tim Green's website, and on the announcement of the upcoming Moonday Poetry Reading. Of course, the incipit of the poem also appears on my Poet Laureate portrait by Ronna Leon posted in a previous blog.



Tiger Nights

Someone nailed gold-plated clouds
to the hard, polished turquoise of the sky.

Striated, like the stripes of a tiger
I did not know I had for a pet

until he bared his teeth
at the dogs flowing through the air

to corner him in my backyard.
The blond fur glistened in shadows.

Three golden labs growled
at the cat the size of a calf.

He turned. His stripes shone
with danger. I woke up afraid.

Now I watch the gold of the clouds
change into orange, scarlet and amaranth

in a quickly darkening cupola
that rests on the hills

above the Hollywood Bowl.
Smooth tones of Joshua Bell’s violin

glow in the air, escaping
the relentless chase of the brass.

Wind snatches notes from the bow,
plays with their glossy sheen.

Stars blossom on cloud-stems
in bouquets, wild as tiger lilies

you gave me that night.
Danger lurks in your smile

as you caress my ear
with a whisper: “Remember?”




To everyone thinking that "first-person" poetry is strictly autobiographical, I hasten to explain, again, that I went to the Joshua Bell concert described in Tiger Nights with my best friend, Elizabeth, who certainly does not resemble a tiger, did not give me any tiger lilies, and did not whisper seductive and ominous thoughts into my ear.

The dream was as real as dreams are, but the tiger's smooth coat appeared to be beige and not striped at all, until I recognized the cornered, graceful creature as one of power and danger: the lovely animal turned its head at the dogs and snarled, becoming a striped beast. That was enough to wake me up. But the word "beige" is too plain for a dream poem, someone said, so I changed it to a more human "blond." The stripes on the sky, the stripes on the tiger, the tiger lilies... this fragmented imagery creates a surreal scene of uncertainty, filled with seductive charm and vague threats. The "gold-plated clouds" become real in a jewel sky as the danger passes, or, at least, seems to do so.



The second "imaginary romance" poem, also a favorite with audiences and publishers, draws together scattered seeds of experience: a glance from a passing biker, a long ride between slopes of California's dry golden grass , contrasting with the deep green of the live oak during a trip to Lake Elizabeth, and the favorite melody outlined by the flowing voice of Ella Fitzgerald. No, it did not happen in my real life. Yes, it could have happened, as the poem is cobbled together from fragments of different memories. Instead of two contrasting images - as in Tiger Nights - I use a refrain that brings back the beguiling singer's voice to lift the biker's narrative high above the melting asphalt.


“Look at me…”

- after Ella Fitzgerald’s “Misty” and a Sunday drive to a peach orchard

the dark honey of Ella’s voice
filled the valley with a golden sheen

The bike stopped at the red light.
The biker looked at me intently.
All in black leather, he did not seem familiar.

the dark honey of Ella’s voice
spilled onto the asphalt

The light changed to green. I was touched
by the brightness in his eyes as he drove by,
turning his head, clearly off-balance. He stopped
to gaze at my metallic Honda. I felt his surprise.

the dark honey of Ella’s voice
blossomed in an aftertaste of sweetness

I knew he realized who I was,
the woman he found irresistible again
and again and again. I wonder if he told
his girlfriend about our sunny encounter.

the dark honey of Ella’s voice
flowed over the wonderland –
the dark honey, oh, the dark honey

The country road led me towards live oak
and grassy slopes, shining yellow and bronze.
There was no hatred, just being alive
after the storm. I was silent. I had nothing to say.



The poem was published in Loch Raven Review (Spring 2010) and reprinted on the Poetry Super Highway website where I was a Poet of the Week in January 2010. The title comes from the first words of "Misty" as sung on that astounding collection of Ella's Blues and Ballads (Verve). The song, by Johnny Burke and Erroll Garner, ends with "I'm too misty, and too much in love..." You can listen to the version I love on YouTube. Compare it with other interpretations: by Sarah Vaughan, Julie London (with a charming alto and annoying twitter of flutes), and Ella Fitzgerald, again - with the Tommy Flanagan Trio. If you do not like singing, listen to Stan Getz, as delightful as any of the singers.

________________________________________


The Moonday reading will include some other perennial favorites of mine, like the Rose Window, and one of the Chopin poems, and maybe The Music Box that I like reading with an actual music box. Of course, I will read some ekphrastic poems to paintings by California artists - I have too many to chose from... The difficulty with selection stems also from boredom; poems written more than a couple of months ago sound old and tedious to me. The most interesting ones are the ones I'm currently working on and I hope to revise and improve as a result of a public reading. But these ones are still unfinished.

The most important reason for selecting a particular poem to read is the spirit of generosity - sharing poems with friends and listeners to enrich and brighten our lives. We are interconnected in a "noosphere" of minds that reach out and link together, raising each other to a higher level of awareness. I hope to do so, again, on Monday.

___________________________________

Photos, digital collage "Tiger Nights" and poems (c) 2009-2011 by Maja Trochimczyk.

Poets' Picnic in Benicia - 8/6/11

On Saturday, August 6, from noon to 4 p.m., Poets Laureate of California will have a reunion in First Street Park with Gazebo (Military and First Street) in Benicia, California.

Organized by Benicia's Poet Laureate, Ronna Leon, the Poets' Picnic is subtitled "Grassroots Poetry on the Grass" and will include readings by Poets Laureate or Poets Laureate Emeriti and their Poetry Communities during an afternoon of poetry, food, and discussion. All guests are asked to bring a Cold Picnic Dish to share. The Benicia poetry group will supply watermelon and beverages. Listeners are also encouraged to bring a poem to put in a picnic basket for a chance to have it read by a Poet Laureate in the reading.

The reading by Poets Laureate is from 2:30 to 4:00 pm and will include the following poets (who will read their own work and poems picked at random from the picnic basket):

*Cynthia Bryant, Pleasanton, 2005-07, 2011-12
*Terry Ehret, Sonoma County, 2004-06
*Joel Fallon, Benicia, 2006-08
*Deborah Grossman, Pleasanton, 2009-11
*Parthenia Hicks, Los Gatos, 2010-12
*Ronna Leon, Benicia, 2010-12
*Juanita Martin, Fairfield, 2010-12
*Janell Moon, Emeryville 2010-12
*Connie Post, Livermore, 2005-09
*Mary Rudge, Alameda, 2002 ongoing
*Robert Shelby, Benicia, 2008-10
*Allegra Silberstein, Davis, 2010-12
*Gary Silva, Napa County, 2008-10
*Maja Trochimczyk, Sunland-Tujunga, 2010-11
*Cher Wollard, Livermore, 2010-14
*Ronnie Holland, Dublin 2008-2010
*Ruth Blakeney, Crockett, 2006




Ronna Leon's previous and ongoing project was placing "Poem Homes" around her community of Benicia. These sturdy and decorative containers, somewhat resembling birdhouses, included copies of poems sent in from around California by poets who wanted to participate. The poems were printed out and distributed via the Poem Homes - people could just pick up and take home a poem they selected in one of the Poem Homes that could be found in various offices, stores, and community locations around Benicia. What a sweet idea!

Another great idea that Ronna has brought to fruition was taking portraits of all Poets Laureate in California, and illustrating them with a short quote from a poem and a handwritten signature by each poet. These black-and-white portraits are certainly a fascinating gallery of spiritual and artistic personalities. My portrait was taken in the library of John Steven McGroarty, California Poet Laureate in the 1930s, whose home now serves as a community arts center in Sunland-Tujunga. In the portrait, I'm holding the heart filled with laurel leaves that is passed on from one poet to the next during the solemn ceremony. I organized a poetry booth at their puppetry festival in 2010 and was teaching a poetry class to kids that summer. We held some of our sessions in the historic library, filled with vintage photos, books, and memorabilia. I would not mind moving in to that room, to spend my afternoons thinking poetic thoughts while looking at the pines surrounding the mansion and at the mountains beyond.

While my participation in the Poets' Picnic is not certain, I have contributed the following selections to the Poem Homes: Tiger Nights, Buddha with Swans, Skydance, "Look at me..." and Rose Window. I have already reprinted in this blog the Buddha with Swans and the Rose Window, the other three poems, were published earlier in various venues.

Two of these pieces will soon appear in a discussion of Moonday Poetry reading in August. The third poem that I submitted to Ronna Leon's Poem Homes, is entitled Skydance and belongs with a series of poems associated with paintings and other artwork created at Manzanar Internment Camp. This historical site documents a dark page in American history: the WWII internment of Japanese-Americans suspected of wrongdoing as potential "enemies of the state", though not proven guilty. Their lives and careers destroyed, the Japanese-Americans showed a remarkable resilience when they returned to their communities and started to rebuild their lives.

Some, like Henry Fukuhara, a former prisoner, painter and organizer of the annual plein-air workshops, have never forgotten and hoped to make Manzanar an example of darkness overcome by light, of suffering erased by creativity. A Japanese-American photographer, survivor, artist and poet, Beth Shibata, is a frequent contributor to these workshops and has inspired many members of the Pasadena group, Poets on Site. In 2010, she made a collage of a photo of the mountains and paper cranes that permeate the landscape and ... my poem.

Skydance

~ to Henry Fukuhara and the prisoners of the Japanese Internment Camp at Manzanar

the mountains rose and fell
with their glory useless –
trapped in time they did not
think they’d make it –
days so long, stretched
to the horizon, mindless

and the sky danced above them
avalanche of paper cranes

it was not a time for joy
the landscape said –
bleak, unforgiving,
it was not that time yet –
in gaps between minutes
a shadow rose, a breath

and the sky danced above them
spring dreams of paper cranes


contours remembered,
felt in the fingertips
filled the world with color
faded pastels, knowing,
pale rainbow, hues
of distance, serenity

and the sky danced above them
paper cranes, oh, paper cranes


This poem, inspired by Shibata's art is dedicated to her master. Similarly to the poem "Look at me.." the narrative form is structured around the irruptions of a brief refrain, bringing the dance of the sky down to the earth and the painter's canvas. Henry Fukuhara lost his sight and painted from memory; his friends and associates continued to surround him and draw inspiration from his joie-de-vivre.

Skydance was published in Poets on Site chapbook on the Exhibition of art from the Annual Plein-Air Workshop at Manzanar and Alabama Hills, held in September 2010. The chapbook belongs to a series of ekphrastic poetry chapbooks edited by Kathabela Wilson. The series continues and the future Poets on Site projects will include my voice.

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Maja Trochimczyk's Portrait as Poet Laureate of Sunland-Tujunga, (c) 2010 by Ronna Leon, used by permission.

Poetry and photos (c) 2009-2011 by Maja Trochimczyk. Photos taken in Sunland, Granada Hills, and at Lake Elisabeth, California.

Meditations on Divine Names

CALL FOR SUBMISSIONS

OF ORIGINAL POETRY

to be published in

MEDITATIONS ON DIVINE NAMES

An Anthology Of Contemporary Poetry

Edited by Maja Trochimczyk


Forthcoming in 2011

from the Moonrise Press

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Almighty, Loving, All-seeing, Compassionate, Silent, Omniscient, Forgiving, Knowing, Merciful, Graceful, Beautiful, Kind, Sublime, Patient, Just, Wise, Awesome, Sovereign, Peaceful, Hidden, Perfect, Holy, Unknowable, Eternal, Light, Love, Life, Power, Supreme, Lord, Life-giving, God of Gods, YHWH, Christ, Yehovah, Allah, Goddess…

_______________________________________________


New Deadline – August 30, 2011 ; Language – English;

Length – maximum 40 lines per poem, 3 poems;

Format – email to info@moonrisepress.com, poems and bio in the body of the email; no attachments; include the address and contact information for the author and a biographical note about the author (100 words).

No reading fee. Authors receive a copy of their contribution in pdf and a 30% discount off the price of the book.

Submit your contribution online through the contact form or by email to info@moonrisepress.com, or maja@moonrisepress.com

P.O. Box 4288 Sunland CA 91041-4288

info@moonrisepress.com

www.moonrisepress.com/divine.html

________________________________________


The 4th of July Parade is always fun in Sunland-Tujunga. Flag waving, marching bands, water guns and balloons, classic cars, horses, dirt bikes, Little Landers Society, churches, the Little League, Girls Scouts, Boy Scouts, and even the Oldest Rock of Sunland-Tujunga found their place in the grand procession along the Foothill Boulevard.

Entry No. 31, just after the Oldest Rock, and quite as quirky, was the Royal Chariot of the Poet Laureate - a Ford Mustang Convertible decorated with a scattering of letters, numbers and flags, and staffed with the Queen of Poetry's Court: Anna and Ian Harley-Trochimczyk, and Rosie Ramos who took most of the pictures.

Ms. Rosie came up with the "royal court" and "queen of poetry" labels. The following poems were distributed as postcards, illustrated with my photographs: two Haiku for the New Year (blue skies with white clouds), "Sunlight" (yellow rose), "On Bliss" (red rose) and "The Color Guard" (tri-color flag-waving parade picture) written especially for this year's celebrations and posted on July 1, 2011.

On Bliss

In a house of stained-glass cherries
you can hear a cat sleep
snoring into the comfort
of his hand-embroidered pillow.

In a house of fresh-cut roses
you can feel the air bloom
with the sweetness
of cinnamon and nutmeg.

You can taste love
mixed with raindrops
on the patio of my magic house
where everything you touch
changes into pure gold
of bliss, perfectly remembered.


(C) 2006 by Maja Trochimczyk


The photo album is available on Flickr: The Fourth of July Parade

Joy in Red, White and Blue

Last year, I decorated a silver convertible in blue letters, silk roses, and flags to ride in the parade. My daughter brought her new favorite toy, vuvuzela (or zuzuvela? - I can never remember the name of this infernal noise maker). We stocked the car with postcards and candy and rolled through the town. The Poet Laureate's crew consisted of: the inspired poet of light, Susan Rogers; my favorite USC Viterbi Chemical Engineering Student, Ania (the best in her department, who just graduated with the Order of Troy and a Ph.D. Scholarship to UC Berkeley); and translator/producer extraordinaire, Elizabeth Kanski.

We wore colorful scarves I had bought in Washington, D.C., and we had so much fun! There were horses, classic cars, firemen, dirt bikes, clowns, civic groups, scouts - and everyone who was not marching in the parade, watched it from the sidelines. Thanks to the Rotary Club's efforts and Ellis Robertson's leadership, we'll have our parade again. Hurrah to Sunland and Tujunga! (I live in Sunland and these are two different little towns in my mind...)

This year, the decorations are not yet done, the poems to give away are not yet printed, but I have a little poem to share, with the best wishes to everyone who truly celebrates the joy of independence, that is the essence of the Fourth of July.

We live in a land of limitless possibilities. Let's be grateful for all our gifts. Our parade goes down the Foothill Blvd., from Mt. Gleason and Summitrose, to Sunland Park. It starts at 10 a.m. See you in the parade!


The Color Guard

Above the hills' crooked spine, clouds dissolve
into the azure. A red rose lazily unfolds its petals.

Mr. Lincoln blossoms by the birch tree,
glowing with the innocence of lost summers.

White bark hides among green leaves.
pale oleander spills over the picket fence,

shines against the deepest blue of the iris.
Its yellow heart matches sunshine's gold

bouncing off the brilliant sphere of stamens
in the bridal silk of matilla poppies.

My garden presents the colors at noon
dressed in the red, white and blue of the flag.

At night, fireworks tear the indigo fabric
into light ribbons and multicolored sparks.

The visual cacophony echoes the loudness
of sound explosions imagined by

that quaint musical genius, Charles Ives.
The orderly march of brass anthems

scatters into the chaos of laughter -
a child's delight - the Fourth of July.





And here's a link to the astounding piece by Charles Ives that I mention in the poem, the best Fourth of July celebration I have ever encountered.

Charles Ives (1874-1954) - The Fourth of July (Third Movement of A Symphony: New England Holidays, 1904-1913)

I do not have the time to dig into my class notes about this piece (my favorite for both music appreciation and history survey classes). Here's the note posted on YouTube by "inlandempires" with the recording:

"A parade of Americana with thematic nods to such popular tunes as Columbia the Gem of the Ocean, Battle Hymn of the Republic, Battle Cry of Freedom, and Yankee Doodle. Probably the most complex and fascinating of the four movements of the "Holidays" Symphony, Ives's Fourth of July takes metrical and motivic play to its outer limits. Commenting in his Memos, Ives wrote, "I did what I wanted to, quite sure that the thing would never be played, although the uneven measures that look so complicated in the score are mostly caused by missing a beat, which was often done in parades. In the parts taking off explosions, I worked out combinations of tones and rhythms very carefully by kind of prescriptions, in the way a chemical compound which makes explosions would be made."

Happy Fourth of July!