Treasure Island

Warren Falcon

(04/23/52 - xxxx / Spartanburg, South Carolina, USA)

Transparencies: Lovers Sing To Each, Death The Veil Between Them, After Japanese Noh Theater


.for Father William Rowell


Act 1

Each stanza is a scene or theatrical screen in which the drama is eternally unfolding...


O each eye holds a temple.
Each eye curves away from each.
Each knee contains a hidden country -

paddies are green now and ready for gleaning.


Green now and ready for gleaning,
each breath moves in rhythm.
Other's hands burn the thick rushes-

Go ghostly to ashes.


Go ghostly to ashes;
an obi, a sash opening.
Slash of swords and tongue
now lashes between laps
twain to twain, torches kneel

twining knots each to each.


Twining knots each to each,
reach arms toward dormant summits.
Adore. Summon. Rumor either
to either -

That other snows are melting besides Fuji's.


That other snows are melting besides Fuji's
rush fevers to still lips grown bluer.
Blow warmly then, Awakening Fire.
Blue blushes to purple -

grapes swell in ripening arbors, the quiet pond reflecting.


Ripening arbors the quiet pond reflecting,
a pair of swans leans forward into water
through mirrored peaks rippling there,
stippled plumes chasing after -

a tickle of down pillows breaks lovers to laughter.


A tickle breaks lovers to laughter.
Temple rafters playfully cover joyous
mouths, insistent, surging tongues -

such portals fill gardens green with seethe and seed.


Gardens green with seethe and seed
need now sun and rain,
each for each embroiling-

On monks' sills peaches soften in wooden bowls.


On monks' sills in wooden bowls
there swells grain,
stone, seed drifting now
to fruit and flower,
to sword and power -

Word has come, Master, that the gods have lifted clouds from Fuji.


Act 2

The lovers speak to each other...


That the gods have lifted clouds from Fuji
is no wonder. That you have lifted these
sighs from me here on this pallet is wonder -

enough for me to turn beneath you to earth,
to be dirt that you may sow again,
renew tendrils entwining each spring
that you may lay your leaves upon
fading clover, us the shivering autumn,
ours the promised bestowal -

us to be done over in six moons.


To be done over in six moons
boats gently sift waters
wearing thin transparencies -

suns, moons, stars jeweled facets,
and your face leaning beside the bank
fishing smooth stones to s*ck
for silver. Winter your need in me,
mine to lay crystal against crystal and flesh -

a fine mesh of stars now strains the river.


A fine mesh of stars now strains the river.
What catches in this net, Love, cannot be
spoken or named even when at highest peak
when blood flames and spills all barriers -

renders each soft murmur, Master, to silence and motion.


To silence and motion these veils
lift away. Swift currents flee toward
that reddening Sun-Sea once our divinity

now distant, far, far from this our dripping village of vapors.


From this our dripping village of vapors
hide me, Love, hold me harder. I fear
dawn when the peacocks cry fanning
mist from boiling waters.


Act 3

Green now and ready for gleaning

Go ghostly to ashes

Turning knots each to each

That other snows are melting besides Fuji's


Beside the pond reflecting

A tickle breaks lovers to laughter

Gardens green with seethe and seed

On monk's sills in wooden bowls


That gods have lifted clouds from Fuji

To be done over in six moons

A fine mesh of stars now strains the river


To silence and motion these veils lift away

From this dripping village of vapors

Peacocks cry fanning mist from boiling waters


O each eye holds a temple

Submitted: Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Edited: Wednesday, June 08, 2011

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (Transparencies: Lovers Sing To Each, Death The Veil Between Them, After Japanese Noh Theater by Warren Falcon )

Enter the verification code :

  • Warren Falcon (9/15/2010 3:11:00 PM)

    It is impossible to evoke the enduring power of Japanese Noh theater outside of the Japanese language and sensibilities. This poem is inspired by Noh, its mysterious gradual unfolding of dramas enfolded and entwined in all things on stage. Everything is in some sense center stage. All objects including humans are pivotal actors.

    Noh Theatre's power and drama is evocative, nuanced as are the moves of each actor (all male actors, no women) , the singing (inflected, hypnotic, inductive, eerie to non-Japanese ears and sensibilities) , the music, the movements choreographed to slow motion which is also trance inducing for the audience captivated and transported into liminal space as in dwelling in the pause between breaths, between heartbeats.

    My poem has, of course, the sounds and rhythms of Western senses and sensibilities though I have tried to use repetition to evoke some of the otherness of the world and worldview (animistic and Buddhist) , the inflected participation of negative space almost as equally important to positive space.

    As in all poetic endeavors try your hand at it, experiment and perhaps you may stumble upon some poetic astonishment and wonder even if subtle and not at all 'Noh' but new. And as in much Japanese Noh, learn from the failures. There is the profound tradition of the 'noble failure' in Japan (Donald Keene's excellent book, The Nobility of Failure, traces this historically through Japanese history up to the Kami Kazi pilots and, later, Yukio Mishima. (Report) Reply

Read all 1 comments »

Top Poems

  1. Phenomenal Woman
    Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost
  3. If You Forget Me
    Pablo Neruda
  4. Still I Rise
    Maya Angelou
  5. Dreams
    Langston Hughes
  6. Annabel Lee
    Edgar Allan Poe
  7. If
    Rudyard Kipling
  8. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  9. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou
  10. A Dream Within A Dream
    Edgar Allan Poe

PoemHunter.com Updates

Poem of the Day

poet Alfred Lord Tennyson

It little profits that an idle king,
By this still hearth, among these barren crags,
Match'd with an aged wife, I mete and dole
Unequal laws unto a savage race,
...... Read complete »

   
[Hata Bildir]