{"id":236109,"date":"2023-05-29T12:00:32","date_gmt":"2023-05-29T11:00:32","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.transcend.org\/tms\/?p=236109"},"modified":"2023-05-26T05:48:15","modified_gmt":"2023-05-26T04:48:15","slug":"hiroshima-spring-4","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.transcend.org\/tms\/2023\/05\/hiroshima-spring-4\/","title":{"rendered":"Hiroshima Spring"},"content":{"rendered":"

\u201c\u2026how beset we were with what\u2026we had been taught\u2026.\u201d <\/em>
\n\u2013Kenneth Patchen<\/em><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/em>A poem for voices, with shakuhachi and koto\u2026.<\/em>
\n(Sound of shakuhachi, a wooden flute\u2013as though the instrument itself is breathing\u2026and crying\u2026.) <\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p><\/blockquote>\n

    \n
  1. The Pilgrim<\/strong><\/li>\n<\/ol>\n

    Under the flush of cherry,
    \nin\u00a0air as mild as breath,
    \nby the Ota\u2019s tributary\u2013
    \nfive crooked fingers reaching
    \ninto the Inland Sea\u2013<\/p>\n

    I stalk the A-bomb dome.<\/p>\n

    (The reed sounds tremble, linger, fade\u2026.)<\/em><\/p>\n

    \"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

      \n
    1. The Old Man Speaks<\/strong><\/li>\n<\/ol>\n

      (Echo of minyo\u2013a plaintive folksong\u2013in the distance\u2026.)<\/em><\/p>\n

      The moon of snow
      \nrises over the white world\u2026.<\/p>\n

      I watch\u2026.\u00a0 I wait\u2026.\u00a0 I listen\u2026.<\/p>\n

      In the chill gauze of the air
      \nwild stags and deer
      \nnuzzle
      \nin a nook of mountains\u2026.<\/p>\n

      The cold glass chills my framing hands\u2026.<\/p>\n

      Nameless birds, my white brows
      \nwing
      \nover dim reflections.<\/p>\n

      Years pass\u2026.<\/p>\n

      Who\u2026?
      \nWho\u2026?
      \nWho\u2026?<\/p>\n

      Caught in that moment,
      \nyour memory fills the air
      \nlike the incense of a dream\u2026.<\/p>\n

       <\/p>\n

        \n
      1. Ghosts<\/strong><\/li>\n<\/ol>\n

        When the wind shifts against these bamboo poles,
        \nor sifts the water in the carp-jeweled pond\u2014
        \nthe petals of the cherry fallen there
        \nas though a girl had strewn them with her songs\u2014<\/p>\n

        then we may hear the chansons<\/em> of the dead,
        \nshuddering the bamboo temple\u2019s bell,
        \nclamoring softly in the bamboo hair
        \nhow human passion shuddered in a sieve<\/p>\n

        upon the spume of time, cast spells,
        \nand cleaved and echoed in a timeless well\u2026<\/p>\n

        in a timeless well\u2026.<\/em><\/p>\n

         <\/p>\n

          \n
        1. The Old Woman (\u201cAn ordinary life\u201d)<\/em><\/strong><\/li>\n<\/ol>\n

          My daughter died a week after the bomb,
          \nits image blistered in her crow-black eyes.<\/p>\n

          Its image like a candle in the dark\u2026.<\/p>\n

          Two days later, my son found me.
          \nWe hardly recognized each other.
          \nKeloids covered his back and skull.<\/p>\n

          He crawled into bed and did not rise.<\/p>\n

          Three days passed, and he coughed dark blood.<\/p>\n

          \u201cMother,\u201d he said, crying\u2026crying,
          \n\u201cthough I am dying\u2026dying,
          \nyou must live a healthy, ordinary life\u2026.\u201d<\/p>\n

          The light faded in his eyes and from the world\u2026.<\/p>\n

          The smoke his body made was white\u2026<\/p>\n

          (Minyo echoes with the cry of a deer,<\/em><\/p>\n

          caught in a trap in the forest\u2026.)<\/em><\/p>\n

           <\/p>\n

            \n
          1. The Pilgrim <\/strong><\/li>\n<\/ol>\n

            I clocked my walking speed
            \nat seventeen minutes a mile.<\/p>\n

            Seventeen minutes I walked:
            \nall I saw were dead.
            \n(Charred remembrances
            \nwith no one to remember.)<\/p>\n

            Seventeen minutes more:
            \nthe wounded lay with the dying.<\/p>\n

            Half an hour on,
            \nand that which escaped the fire
            \nhuddled in desperate corners:<\/p>\n

            shadows that sought shadows.<\/p>\n

            \"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

             <\/p>\n

              \n
            1. The Old Man<\/strong><\/li>\n<\/ol>\n

              For my soul\u2019s sake,
              \nI dwell on the night before:<\/p>\n

              A woman is standing
              \nbehind a silken screen\u2026.<\/p>\n

              The scent of her silhouette
              \nis naked
              \non the snowy screen.<\/p>\n

              The sun drops softly behind her:
              \na ripe melon of youth.<\/p>\n

              She leans her head back,
              \nher long hair covers her buttocks,<\/p>\n

              her nipples harden
              \nunder my imagined gaze<\/p>\n

              (Koto crystal trembling\u2026.)<\/em><\/p>\n

               <\/p>\n

                \n
              1. The Pilgrim<\/strong><\/li>\n<\/ol>\n

                In Peace Memorial Park
                \nI stalk the A-bomb dome,
                \nstare at the A-bomb dome;<\/p>\n

                sit on a bench in the dark
                \nwhile pigeons roost in the ruins,<\/p>\n

                while a girl with ivory hands
                \nplucks a koto\u2019s strings;<\/p>\n

                somewhere beyond my hearing\u2014
                \ncrystal, unbreakable things.<\/p>\n

                 <\/p>\n

                  \n
                1. The Children (\u201cBeset\u201d)<\/em><\/strong><\/li>\n<\/ol>\n

                  In the Twentieth Epoch of Love
                  \nwe pulled on the rubbery face
                  \nand found the luminous skull
                  \nturning around in its place,
                  \nwearing the grin of our race,<\/p>\n

                  saying: All who endeavor will
                  \nfind here the end of man,
                  \nthe bone at the heart of will,
                  \nthe snake in the garden of Love;
                  \nsaying: \u201cGo and be killed if you can!\u201d<\/p>\n

                  Man of the dinosaur mind,
                  \ntaking the atom\u2019s weight,
                  \nbalanced it on his nose,
                  \nsealed his doom with hate\u2026.<\/p>\n

                  Now we stand on the brink of the cold
                  \nwhile the earth turns around in its place,
                  \na tiny rock of the light
                  \nturning in infinite space
                  \nwhile we cling to ourselves in spite.<\/p>\n

                  \"\"<\/p>\n

                   <\/p>\n

                    \n
                  1. Ghosts<\/strong><\/li>\n<\/ol>\n

                    \u00a0<\/em>Now ghosts of the children enter, speaking in an echo chamber:<\/em><\/p>\n

                    We sought nothing
                    \nnothing, nothing<\/em><\/p>\n

                    but the triumph of the blossoms
                    \nblossoms, blossoms, blossoms\u2026.<\/em><\/p>\n

                    Our skin was new to breeze and shower
                    \nshower, shower\u2026.<\/em><\/p>\n

                    War, we thought, a kind of blind-man\u2019s bluff
                    \nbluff, bluff\u2026.<\/em><\/p>\n

                    No victory but in the seasons\u2019 power
                    \npower, power\u2026.<\/em><\/p>\n

                    We forgave the distractions of those older
                    \nolder, older\u2026.<\/em><\/p>\n

                    We lived life before we knew life
                    \nlife, life\u2026.<\/em><\/p>\n

                    We are your children
                    \nchildren, children,<\/em><\/p>\n

                    and your children\u2019s
                    \n\u00a0<\/em>children, <\/em>
                    \n\u00a0<\/em>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 children\u2026<\/em>
                    \n\u00a0<\/em>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 children\u2026.<\/em>
                    \n \"\"<\/a><\/em><\/p>\n

                    (Koto strings are plucked briskly, violently, then are still.\u00a0 The shakuhachi lingers, fades\u2026.)<\/em><\/p>\n

                    ________________________________________<\/p>\n

                    \"\"<\/a> Gary Corseri\u00a0is a member of the\u00a0<\/em>TRANSCEND Network for Peace Development Environment.<\/em><\/strong><\/a>\u00a0 He is the grandson of Ukrainian-Jewish and Sicilian-Catholic immigrants.\u00a0 Gary has performed his poems at the Carter Presidential Library and his dramas have been produced on\u00a0<\/em>PBS-Atlanta and in universities, high schools and Little Theaters.\u00a0 He has published 2 novels, 1 full collection and 1 prize-winning chapbook of poems.\u00a0 His poems, articles, fiction and dramas have appeared in hundreds of global publications & websites, including:\u00a0 <\/em>Countercurrents, Village Voice, Redbook Magazine, The Miami Herald, The Philadelphia Inquirer, The New York Times,\u00a0and\u00a0<\/em>Transcend Media Service<\/strong><\/a>.\u00a0 He has taught at universities in the U.S. and Japan, and in US prisons and public schools.\u00a0 He has worked as a grape-picker in Australia, a gas-station attendant, and an editor. Contact:\u00a0<\/em>garyscorseri@gmail.com<\/em><\/strong><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

                    In the Twentieth Epoch of Love
                    \nwe pulled on the rubbery face
                    \nand found the luminous skull
                    \nturning around in its place,
                    \nwearing the grin of our race,<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":166320,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[182],"tags":[853,1347,179,1476,868,70,581],"class_list":["post-236109","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-poetry-format","tag-atomic-weapons","tag-hiroshima-and-nagasaki","tag-japan","tag-nuclear-abolition","tag-poetry","tag-usa","tag-wwii"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.transcend.org\/tms\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/236109","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.transcend.org\/tms\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.transcend.org\/tms\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.transcend.org\/tms\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.transcend.org\/tms\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=236109"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.transcend.org\/tms\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/236109\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":236111,"href":"https:\/\/www.transcend.org\/tms\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/236109\/revisions\/236111"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.transcend.org\/tms\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/166320"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.transcend.org\/tms\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=236109"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.transcend.org\/tms\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=236109"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.transcend.org\/tms\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=236109"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}