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We can either do this the easy way -- I quote one whole poem -- or the hard way -- I quote bits of each of the poems in the book. You choose. Ah, you have chosen wisely, grasshoppers, you have chosen both ways. First, one poem. Note: If you’re suffering inklings of immortality, suffer no more. Mankh has lifted up the Veil of Time for you, and seen himself, seeing his grandpop, seeing him, dimensionally folded-in:
JUST POPPED IN TO SAY
even the dead
sometimes walk the autumn sunlit streets
why just the other day,
two days past my fourty-fourth birthday
I saw my grandfather ---
our quick exchange of eye-glances
But who was I to him?
the living man who
appeared
looking like my grandfather
non-plussing time and space
with that delicate mustache
and early autumn leaves
too sparse to notice
yet noticing,
like the dead, living
taking momentary shape
between the sidewalk cracks
Now: some corroborating bits from other poems:
Though many years my elder
She understands when I say
I’m nearly forty-four years-old and gay.
- From “Though many Years” (for Jeanette.)
before another closet-door stays shut
before another child gets lost in the thick-dark of night
before another bomb gets made and paid from your tax-dollars.
-from “Yet & Before”
They think the gods and goddesses
have turned their backs,
given them full license to deceive, distort, corrupt.
- from “Corpoliticos”
Grasshoppers, I hope you’re getting out of Mankh what I see is plainly there; Sincerity, Depth, Breadth. Mankh writes that he’s a student of the Kaballah, a poet, an essayist, calligrapher, and writing instructor. You should all be getting that already. He’s not hiding it, so much as using it. For your benefit & mine. Pay attention. I am, so you should, too. No quiz, of course; this is no test; Life is the test. -- Bill Costley (billcostley@newsguy.com)
* * * * * * *
(from Presence of Birds)
THE WHEN TREE
When the road hungers,
Lay down food and water for the animals and the ones that fly.
When the loins ache,
Spill your love, or create something new.
When the earth trembles,
Care for another soul.
When personal victory falters,
Join hands with a higher force.
When the heart questions,
Objectively hear the true voice within.
When injustice begins to worm its way,
Keep the torch burning.
When strength turns to power,
Praise the strength of the weak.
When alone-ness seems overpowering,
Trust that this is not all there is.
When feeling too small,
Know that someone larger understands your shape.
When thinking too much of yourself,
Remember we.
When the weight of being identified bears down,
Lift up to a higher perspective.
* * * * * *
(from Spiral of Life )
LUSHER GARDEN
(a sonnet)
This quiet I have often called ‘my own’
And labeled as apart from other times,
And savored as a sacred time alone
To filter and commune with higher rhymes.
Yet now resounds the sound of neighboring bird,
A note to notice what’s been dubbed apart
As merely a label that’s absurd—
For who could claim to own what’s of the heart?
The steady hum a space gives off with sound
Is only heard by stilling of the mind,
Yet hum can turn to boredom if not found
Someone, or ones, who one can call one’s kind.
Called forth from quietude to greet the friend,
We find a lusher garden to attend.
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