15th International Kusamakura Competition 2010, Results PDF.

15th International Kusamakura Competition 2010, Results

ppjr/15th International Kusamakura Haiku Competition 2010, 2nd & 3rd Prize Selections

ppjr/Modern Haiku 41.1

ppjr/Roadrunner IX:3

ppjr/ Roadrunner X:1

ppjr/ Roadrunner X:2

ppjr/Otoliths link

http://the-otolith.blogspot.com/2010/10/paul-pfleuger-jr.html

 

Otoliths #19 is live

Otoliths #19. Edited by Mark Young.

http://the-otolith.blogspot.com/2010/10/issue-nineteen-date-of-publication-1.html

In Otoliths #19/paul pfleuger, jr.

In Otoliths #19/paul pfleuger, jr.

In Modern Haiku 41.3/paul pfleuger, jr.

In World Haiku 2010/paul pfleuger, jr.

In Roadrunner X:3/paul pfleuger, jr.

Peter Yovu’s “Sunrise”

From Peter Yovu regarding his latest release, “Sunrise”, from Red Moon Press, a strong collection that pushes the boundaries of haiku a bit more. I‘ll be reviewing it in the next issue of Roadrunner….

 

Greetings,

I have a new book out from Red Moon Press, entitled Sunrise. Comprised of (by last count) 91 poems, it’s divided thematically in five sections, each preceded by a pen and ink drawing. The poems were first printed in venues as diverse as The Heron’s Nest and Roadrunner/Masks. If you wish to purchase a copy, please send US $15 (ppd) to:

Peter Yovu
60 VT RTE 12
Middlesex VT 05602

If you live in Canada, please add one dollar. Anywhere else on the planet, please add two dollars and a prayer for my sad country. Just prior to taking it to the post office,I will place your copy of the book somewhere near my stereo as it plays Brian Eno and Harold Budd’s The Pearl. If you prefer, I will play Alina, by Arvo Part.

Just let me know.

All the best,
Peter Yovu

TO ORDER:

http://www.redmoonpress.com/catalog/product_info.php?cPath=32&products_id=130

 

In Roadrunner X:3/paul pfleuger, jr.

May be a dog’s body clutching stones still amidst vs.

In Roadrunner X:3/paul pfleuger,jr.

In a language I half understand the body identified

In Roadrunner X:3/paul pfleuger, jr.

Clicking back to Hyper, Kansas

In World Haiku 2010/paul pfleuger, jr.

Plastic flowers

wet and trembling…

Baudrillard’s passing

塑膠花 溼透且顫抖 Baudrillard 的死亡

In Frogpond, 30:1/paul pfleuger, jr.

Through dreamlike clouds

the suburbs

from a plane

飛機窗外 穿透夢幻的雲 郊區

In Frogpond 32:2/paul pfleuger, jr.

Leaving the Cro-Magnon grin on the river I pack up my camp

將克魯麥農人微笑在河面上 我整理起營地

Hitting the spot

on a night like this

the blackened banana

這樣一個夜晚

暢快滿足

轉黑的香蕉

Ginyu, No. 38

She

Paul Pfleuger, Jr. & Jack Galmitz

 

The camouflage

washed off

bathing my child

 

 

Now I can come clean;

an infant that just begins

 

 

Fixing something broken

almost words

from her mouth

 

 

She must know there’s a river

roiling just behind our house

 

 

An egret

gauze white

in the muted current

 

 

Maybe, one day I’ll tell her

they killed them for hat feathers

 

 

When she understands

I’ll become a window

to the slaughterhouse

 

 

She’ll weep for mortality

when she first bleeds herself

 

 

Learning faces

in the ER waiting room

that don’t return smiles

 

 

She falls asleep in my arms

and dreams the divine monster

 

 

Crawling

over the Bible

she gets what she wants

 

 

Absorbing the first parents

toward the Hieros Gamos she crawls

 

 

Ginyu, No.48

Bookish Flowers

Scott Metz &  Paul Pfleuger Jr.

 

the banned flag

unfurls

burnt hills

 

 

Come midnight

eyed

by altar rooms

 

 

to breathe

new life

mockingbird blood

 

 

Solitary hopes

before

the City God’s abacus

 

 

pollen

through and through

a pink mathematics

 

 

Among bookish flowers

searching

for a girl’s name

 

 

a future rose

the lightness

of a sky scraper

 

 

Thump

to thump-thump

the cooling concrete dusk

 

 

first touch

of midnight’s dawn

all about to . . .

 

 

Thunder

instinctively

put into words

 

Frogpond 32:3

Engagements with Gary Snyder’s ‘The Practice of the Wild’

“It comes again to an understanding of the subtle but critical difference of meaning between the terms nature and wild. Nature is the subject, they say, of science. Nature can be deeply probed, as in microbiology. The wild is not to be made subject or object in this manner; to be approached it must be admitted from within, as a quality intrinsic to who we are. Nature is ultimately in no way endangered; wilderness is. The wild is indestructible, but we might not see the wild.”

 

In shouting distance

speechless

before Grand Canyon moon

 

“Languages meander like great rivers leaving oxbow traces over forgotten beds, to be seen only from the air or by scholars. Language is like some kind of infinitely interfertile family of species spreading or mysteriously declining over time, shamelessly and endlessly hybridizing, changing its own rules as it goes. Words are used as signs, as stand-ins, arbitrary and temporary, even as language reflects (and informs) the shifting values of the peoples whose minds it inhabits and glides through. We have faith in “meaning” the way we might believe in wolverines—putting trust in the occasional reports of others or on the authority of once seeing a pelt. But it is sometimes worth tracking these tricksters back.”

 

Crab holes

punctuate

our broken grammar

 

“Our skills and works are but tiny reflections of the wild world that is innately and loosely orderly. There is nothing like stepping away from the road and heading into a new part of the watershed. Not for the sake of newness, but for the sense of coming home to our whole terrain. “Off the trail” is another name for the Way, and sauntering off the trail is the practice of the wild. That is also where—paradoxically—we do our best work. But we need paths and trails and will always be maintaining them. You first must be on the path, before you can turn and walk into the wild.”

 

I carry on

with the heart of a trellis

gone wild

 

“So remember a time when you journeyed on foot over hundreds or miles, walking fast and often traveling at night, traveling nightlong and napping in the acacia shade during the day, and these stories were told to you as you went. In your travels with an older person you were given a map you could memorize, full of lore and song, and also practical information. Off by yourself you could sing those songs to bring yourself back. And you could maybe travel to a place that you’d never been, steering only by songs you had learned.”

 

Through strawberry fields

clear to the creek bottom

how it once was

 

“Life in the wild is not just eating berries in the sunlight. I like to imagine a “depth ecology” that would go to the dark side of nature—the ball of crunched bones in a scat, the feathers in the snow, the tales of insatiable appetite. Wild systems are in one elevated sense above criticism, but they can also be seen as irrational, moldy, cruel, parasitic. Jim Dodge told me how he had watched—with fascinated horror—Orcas methodically batter a Gray Whale to death in the Chukchi Sea. Life is not just a diurnal property of large interesting vertebrates; it is also nocturnal, anaerobic, cannibalistic, microscopic, digestive, fermentative: cooking away in the warm dark.”

 

The badlands

humming that song

of decomposition

 

“As for towns and cities—they are (to those who can see) old tree trunks, riverbed gravels, oil seeps, landslide scrapes, blowdowns and burns, the leavings after floods, coral colonies, paper-wasp nests, beehives, rotting logs, watercourses, rock-cleavage lines, ledge strata layers, guano heaps, feeding frenzies, courting and strutting bowers, lookout rocks, and ground-squirrel apartments. And for a few people they are also palaces.”

 

Just seeming to fit

between the high-speed rail

and an ox grazing

 

Paul Pfleuger, Jr., Modern Haiku, 41.1

 

My deepest thanks to Gary Snyder for long years of inspiration and permission to publish this.

Oh, we’d stop

and take a few pictures

then we stood like pylons

doing the math

in the green around

young Washington’s initials

carved into stone.

ARSENAL, November, 2009

Paul Pfleuger, Jr.

In the cubicles
the kafkaesque
of a persimmon

在隔間裡 一棵柿樹的卡夫卡式

 

Roadrunner, IX:2