Chikuba
What's in a name?In the back of Haiku: This Other World there’s an essay on the history of Haiku that mentioned the Chikuba Madmen who published one of the first collections of Renga about eight hundred years ago in the city of Chikuba Japan. They were known for their wit and humor and my poetry follows that path in the same denial of highly stylized court poetry. So when I was looking for a pseudonym I chose Chikuba Madman. People only occasionally run away shrieking after they ask what it means and I start explaining the history of Japanese poetry. I’ll answer to both Joe and Chikuba and hope that both of them are known for wit and humor. |
My ProfileGender
Male
Age
44
about me
Religion's Work Is Done
Smoke curls up creating a dark chapel The papers in the fire become my sadness I am a wicked saint with torn angel’s wings All the poems are gone It is a time for whores and drunkards Not poets and priests Light no candles, offer no flowers I was born for this To be the sensitive sadist A precise garbage man Listening to the night My heart is far away Quietly getting wet in the rainy air Among the sorrow of blooming wild roses It matters little I could die for that
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Some poems of mine
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Fri, March 31, 2006 - 7:15 AM
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Glass tipped sentences only fragments Will of imagination born of failure – the grand failure Falling apart without noise or smell The whole, the part, a space for other people Roses, after all this time, come round again as roses* On a more lunatic scale 
56
Sun, November 27, 2005 - 1:27 PM
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Drunk on the poet Reading until the sun fades And the trees whisper Ono no Komachi, print by Kikugawa Eizan (1787-1876) Translation of the writing on the print: Even if we say life is limited, The accumulating years would not matter If one's appearance did not change. Almost nothing is historical is known of Ono no Komachi. Her poems tell us she was a woman of passion and wit. Legend holds that she was a stunning beauty, even w... read more 
Listen hard to the source of the river
Fri, November 18, 2005 - 8:30 PM
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Little burbles finding ways and needs Spirit pilgrim walk along that way Joys are small and mornings are cold Yet you might find me there dear one Shouting Allah la ilah. Persian Parables by Aleksander Wat By a great, swift water On a stony bank A human skull was lying And shouting: Allah la ilah. And in that cry such horror And such supplication So great was its despair That I asked the helmsman: For what can it still cry out?... read more  Last night I was a small flower Rich and full fed song of spring Blue lotus cast upon the water These oceans of the five senses Full mystery resounding with voice Crazy laughing, no words or tears Universes shining through me Intelligence centered in the chest Falling away from differences of day Painting: Mark Chagall: Still Life with Flowers (1960) 
Travellers we come:
Sun, November 6, 2005 - 3:08 PM
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Plummeting down toward the stars, where the sky burns in violet spasms. In this naked blue place, river jewels dance on arcadian lawns; Lithe strong legs like spring rain, Lunar eyes of delicate ash, Swirling mischief with long flowing hair, and the postulant of day has Scherezade safe in his big brass bed Photograph by Ruth Bernhard "Crossover, 1969" www.soulcatcherstudio.com/exhib...r.html
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