Ghosts

Big Frank has been reading Halloween poetry. These are poems about jack-o-lanterns, witches, graveyards, costumes, spookiness, horror, and ghosts. When we think of ghosts we tend to think of the external ones; you know, the souls of dead people who for some reason can't move on. They can go through walls, sometimes leave you with a chill, and can play tricks on you. Some believe in them and some don't. However, nobody can dispute the interior ghosts. So here are a couple of poems from two women poets from the 19th century.

[Photo: Magne]

XXIX. Ghosts

~ Emily Dickinson

One need not be a chamber to be haunted,
One need not be a house;
The brain has corridors surpassing
Material place.

Far safer, of a midnight meeting
External ghost,
Than an interior confronting
That whiter host.

Far safer through an Abbey gallop,
The stones achase,
Than, moonless, one's own self encounter
In lonesome place.

Ourself, behind ourself concealed,
Should startle most;
Assassin, hid in our apartment,
Be horror's least.

The prudent carries a revolver,
He bolts the door,
O'erlooking a superior spectre
More near.

All Hallows Night
~ Lizette Woodworth Reese

Two things I did on Hallows Night:—
Made my house April-clear;
Left open wide my door
To the ghosts of the year.

Then one came in. Across the room
It stood up long and fair—
The ghost that was myself—
And gave me stare for stare.

Trick-n-Treat

Trick-N-Treat

by Big Frank Dickinson

A ghost that trips and host that tips.
The opposite of expected.
An impulse buy; a treasured gift.
A misunderstanding taken
To an approximate sum,
A hidden doorway to the sun.
An extended detour mapped:
A faded doily wrapped
The only way now gone:
A remembered song.

Two by Tomas Tranströmer

Two Poems by Tomas Tranströmer, the 2011 Nobel Prize laureate for literature.

April and Silence

Spring lies deserted.
The velvet-dark ditch
crawls by my side without reflections.
All that shines
are yellow flowers.
I’m carried in my shadow
like a violin in its black case.
The only thing I want to say
gleams out of reach
like the silver
in a pawnshop.

Romanesque Arches

Inside the huge Romanesque church the tourists jostled in the half darkness.
vault gaped behind vault, no complete view.
A few candle flames flickered.
An angel with no face embraced me
and whispered through my whole body:
"Don't be ashamed of being human, be proud!
Inside you vault opens behind vault endlessly.
You will never be complete, that's how it's meant to be."
Blind with tears
I was pushed out on the sun-seething piazza
together with Mr. and Mrs. Jones, Mr Tanaka, and Signora Sabatini,
and inside each of them vault opened behind vault endlessly.

Farewell Osaka

Sayonara Osaka. Big Frank celebrated the end of his Japan travels in the way that only Osaka could do it. Farewell Osaka! It's been fun, but it's time to leave... back to Spokane!

Trainlag

[Photo: Big Frank Dickinson]

Big Frank loves riding the shinkansen trains in Japan. Their top speed is between 150 and 190 miles per hour ... the scenery zips by. Big Frank just managed to get a snapshot of Mt. Fuju (see above) as the train shot across Japan between Tokyo and Osaka. A little known phenomena is that after travelling at that speed for a few hours it discombobulates the passenger - especially those gaijin (foreigners) who are not used to it. See above for the photo taken immediately upon getting off the train, and then the next one taken 5 minutes later when the so-called shinkansen-blur has worn off. Not to worry, Big Frank is no longer blurrrrrrrred. All is back to normal!

Shinjuku Skyscrapers

Big Frank has been taking pictures of the skyscrapers in the Shinjuku ward of Tokyo. Here are three of his favorites.

This is the 200-metre high Sompo Japan Head Officet. The building was completed in 1976 and designer by Uchida Shozo.

To the left is the Mode Gakuen Cocoon Tower, which opened in October 2008. It looks like a six-sided fountain pen wrapped in masking tape (or some say, a pickle or rocket). It houses retail spaces and three schools: the Mode Gakuen design school, HAL Tokyo (IT and digital contents) and Shuto Iko (medical treatments and care). Altogether it houses over 10,000 students!

This is the Shinjuku Mitsui Building. It is run by Mitsui Fudosan. It's the eighth tallest building in Tokyo, and was the tallest building in Tokyo and Japan, from September 1974 until March 1978. What draws your attention to it are the black channels running down its east and west sides. There is a sunken garden that surrounds its base with a very large plaza.

[All photos: Big Frank Dickinson]

Daibutsu: The Great Buddha in Kamakura:

[Photos: Big Frank Dickinson]

Big Frank went to one of his favorite places in Japan yesterday, Kamakura. This is an ancient city of Japan that is full of Buddhist temples, shines, and the Daibutsu (the great Buddha). This bronze statue is of Amitabha Budda (the Buddha of infinite light). It was built in 1252 and stands around 50 feet in height. It was originally gilded in gold leaf, but only a few traces remain around its ears. It was originally enclose in a great hall, but that was washed away in the 14th century and since then it has stood in the open. It is beautiful and casts its serene shadow over the entire area.

Hello Tokyo; Hello Shinjuku

Big Frank has arrived in Tokyo. He's staying in Shinjuku, which one of 23 Tokyo wards. It's a a busy commercial center and has the busiest train station in the world (Shinjuku Station). It's pretty crowded here - there are around 17, 140 people per square kilometer, with 107 different nationalities registered in addition to the Japanese of course (Big Frank grew up in North Dakota where there are about 5 people per square kilometer). Big Frank definitely needs some elbow room here - knee and ankle room too.

On a clear day you can see Mr. Fuji from here, and it's clear today!

Travel Poems

Big Frank is on the road again - off to Japan. Travel always takes the traveler away, not just physically. This is probably the best part of travel. The familiar is left behind and the mind travels to new places. Here are two poems that capture that larger view of travel, one by Big Frank, and one by Dick Allen. More to come from the land of the sliding doors.
[Photo: Big Frank Dickinson]

A Traveler's Wish
By BIG FRANK DICKINSON

Let me take off clearly knowing nothing
Haunts me as I move outside of the usual;
Let those dear ones behind be as
Safe at home as I will be on the road.

Let the journey take me outside of me
To a place long-sought, accepted, and true;
Let this absence be a presence
Arriving with me and welcomed by all.

Let the return be a renewed reward
For having left the unwanted behind.
Let my presence be a fulfillment;
What's wanted welcomed home.


What You Have to Get Over
BY DICK ALLEN

Stumps. Railroad tracks. Early sicknesses,
the blue one, especially.
Your first love rounding a corner,
that snowy minefield.

Whether you step lightly or heavily,
you have to get over to that tree line a hundred yards in the distance
before evening falls,
letting no one see you wend your way,

that wonderful, old-fashioned word, wend,
meaning “to proceed, to journey,
to travel from one place to another,”
as from bed to breakfast, breakfast to imbecile work.

You have to get over your resentments,
the sun in the morning and the moon at night,
all those shadows of yourself you left behind
on odd little tables.

Tote that barge! Lift that bale! You have to
cross that river, jump that hedge, surmount that slogan,
crawl over this ego or that eros,
then hoist yourself up onto that yonder mountain.

Another old-fashioned word, yonder, meaning
“that indicated place, somewhere generally seen
or just beyond sight.” If you would recover,
you have to get over the shattered autos in the backwoods lot

to that bridge in the darkness
where the sentinels stand
guarding the border with their half-slung rifles,
warned of the likes of you.

Shade Sails

Big Frank wants some shade sails. He was recently at a local restaurant that has them: look at the photos above and to the left (photos by Big Frank). These are beautiful fabrics that provide a good amount of shade. Bardenay's, the restaurant in Coeur d'Alene where Big Frank took the photos had stands for the shades custom built (that's the challenge with these shades - the stands to hold them up). The shade is based on the technology of a ship's sail, and need several anchor points to work properly. It's a pretty old idea - the ancient Greeks and Romans used them to provide shade in public places. For example, the Colosseum in ancient Rome was shaded by large canvas shades pulled into place by Roman sailors (no gladiators - they fought beneath them). They are no longer made of canvas, but of a knitted stretch fabric. Big Frank is hoping to be in the shade soon!

Look at Me

Photo: Big Frank Dickinson

Look at Me

by Big Frank Dickinson

Remember that old question: if a tree falls in the forest
Does it make a sound? Its fall only real if noticed.
A star shoots across the sky 1,000,000 years ago;
Did it shoot if no one saw it? Her doubts pull her
Into a cave of darkness; nobody knows – is she there?
“You never pay any attention to me anymore.”
The mailman can’t even remember the addresses that
He couldn’t find – do the mailboxes exist?
“Could I have a couple minutes of your time; this won’t take long?”
The sidelong glance, the backward glance, and the double take;
All pulled in and not even noticed by that which pulled them in.
If you take it all in yourself; or even one tenth of it all,
As if you could, as if the wind, the radiation and birds,
The fading memories of your neighbors, and the
Yearning looks of strangers who notice what they shouldn’t;
The burning looks of rangers who can’t forget what you took,
The unreturned phone calls, and casual promises that you remembered,
But she didn’t, or at least she hasn’t yet come across,
Just as the cross that you were told to bear as a child became too much
And you no longer notice it and hope it gives you the same disregard,
What if you could take it all in; you would become large, a god of sorts,
And everyone would come to you and be amazed at your insight, your
Acknowledgements, and love, for with this awareness how could you not
Love at a level you weren’t even aware was possible. If you noticed,
If you saw, then would it really matter if they looked back at you?
There would be a rainbow choir that would catch you in a melody of notice.

Tattoos

Photo: Big Frank Dickinson

Big Frank is thinking tattoos. Look at that beautiful tattoo above. Big Frank met this woman, a tattoo artist, recently and her tattoos brought back the thought or getting a tattoo. He's been thinking about getting one for some time now and has a couple of designs in mind. Perhaps a black bar on one arm and a red bar on the other - on the forearms. Another possibility is yen yang; perhaps as one tattoo, not sure where, or separated with one on one arm and the other on another. Then there could be a kind of Maori bracelet that carries life significance in its symbols. Big Frank just isn't sure yet.

We think that tattooing is a contemporary fad, but in fact its been around for a very very long time. It has been a Eurasian practice for over 5,000 years. If you remember that so-called Iceman, Otzi the Iceman, who was found in the Austrian Alps a few years ago, he had 57 separate tattoos: a cross on the inside of his left knee, a number of straight lines on his abdomen, and lots of parallel lines on his back, legs and ankles.

Below is a tattoo of a Scythian chieftain from over 2,500 years ago; it was discovered on a mummy in Russia. Big Frank was like this one. It's a possibility.

Obvious

Photo: Big Frank Dickinson

The Obvious
by Big Frank Dickinson

There are obvious facts that sit down
Right at your doorstep and cannot be ignored:
The imbalance in conversation with a monologist;
The impermanence of feelings, and the hidden
Secrets that closets yield only when attacked.
Still obvious can delay and that’s exactly what
Is obvious to the patiently observant.
So, in time, always in time, always in the fullness
Of time when the door is opened and the stubborn
Fact doesn’t move, you stumble over it like
A unwanted phone book that is full of numbers
That you not only won’t call, but won’t even look up.
Then sing the song that wasn’t trapped in your head,
But pleases you to remember and awakes hidden
Hallways that take you to rooms that you didn’t know
Existed where you can sit down and finally have the
Conversation that always begins with the words,
“I don’t think you’re going to be surprised to hear this”,
But you, of course, are. It’s obvious, in retrospect,
Always in retrospect and yet it’s welcome,
As welcome as an Indian summer or an early spring bloom.

Bon Iver

Bon Iver is one of Big Frank's favorite musicians now. He has put out some beautiful haunting CD's recently: "For Emma, Forever Ago" and "Bon Iver". He has a distinctive voice, melodies that lift, musical brilliance in how he orchestrates his music, and lyrics that are truly poetic - not just in their resonant fullness, but also in the musical way that he plays with the sounds of words to create from them their own accompanying harmony. Here are some examples (say the words and listen to the way they sing).

Here from the above song, "Flume", the maroon/flume goes right to the moon.

"Only love is all maroon
Gluey feathers on a flume
Sky is womb and she's the moon ...

Lapping lakes like leery loons
Leaving rope burns, reddish ruse"

Here from "Re: Stacks"

"On your back with your racks as the stacks as your load
In the back and the racks and the stacks of your load
In the back with your racks and you're un-stacking your load"

Here, from the song "Calgary" a beautiful poetic passage.

"So itʼs storming on the lake
Little waves our bodies break

There's a fire going out,
But there's really nothing to the south

Swollen orange and light let through
Your one piece swimmer stuck to you

Sold, I'm ever
Open ears and open eyes
Wake up to your starboard bride
Who goes in and then stays inside
Oh the demons come, they can subside"

And here he is in full production:

The Mark of Zoro

Big Frank loves the idea of anonymous; and here is a great poem by him/her/... whoever. He loves the simple repeated second part of each stanza. It is sweet, bittersweet, but not maudlin. OK, it's not anonymous, it's by Zoro. While it is hard to know for sure; perhaps this poem was written for his lover, Lolita Poido, the impoverished noblewoman. Others think it was intended for a much more attractive but at the same time less impoverished employee of the state (impoverished state nonetheless) whose name goes unrecorded.

Almond Eyes
by Zoro

Almond eyes and lips that drew;
You almost got the thing you knew.
Almost got it almost did
It came around and then you hid.

Laughter sweet and loud, you see
It grabbed you then you set it free.
Almost got it almost did
It came around and then you hid.

Conversation deep you caught;
Joined you in just what you sought.
Almost got it almost did
It came around and then you hid.

Simple touch to magic grew;
What it was is what you knew.
Almost got it almost did
It came around and then you hid.

There is Only One Fish in the Sea

Photo: Big Frank Dickinson (NishiShinjuku, Tokyo)

Big Frank is looking for people to interview for his work-in-progress: "There is Only One Fish in the Sea" - a collection of interviews on broken hearts. This is a collection of people's stories, in their own words, on unrequited love. Big Frank guarantees anonymity and confidentiality, so anyone who has a story to tell and is willing to be interviewed, contact Big Frank and the interview can be set up. These can be done via Skype so distance is not an issue.

For those of you who are seeking a bit more definition and clarification on what "unrequited love", read the following definition from Ray Baumeister and Sara Atman's "Breaking Hearts".

"Unrequited love refers to romantic, passionate love that is felt by one person toward another person who feels substantially less attraction toward the lover. It is not necessary that the object of unrequited love be thoroughly indifferent. but the discrepancy between liking and loving is apparent to all, and people in love typically find it quite inadequate to hear that the other likes them but fails to love them.

Unrequited love is a relationship that fails to form. One person wants a romantic attachment in the way his or her culture defines it -- in our society, that means a high degree of intimacy, physical and sexual expression ..., and some mutual commitment to reserve certain parts of one's life and one's psyche to be shared only with one's beloved. The other person does not want this. Unrequited love is thus a rejection of an opportunity, an invitation, for romantic attachment.

What sets unrequited love apart from other relationship failures is that the relationship is prevented, not by external factors, but by the decision and preference of one person in the relationship. The rejector does not desire the relationship."

If this is you, and you want to talk about it, let Big Frank know. You can write to Big Frank at: BigFrankDickinson@yahoo.com

The Roar of Falls and Rust of Trains

The above photos were taken by Big Frank last May near North Bend, Washington. The train shots are from an old train museum in Snoqualmie, Washington. The water closeup is of Snoqualmie Falls, just north of the town. The falls roar and the trains used to, but now they just sit on a sidetrack and rust. Their photos make a good study in contrast. Who knows, maybe the falls roar of mist drifts over those trains drawing out the rust silently.

Erratic

Flight Pattern of Moths
by Big Frank Dickinson

There had been a time when they regularly
Were together; a time now gone.
Now it was irregular when they met.
It was an aberration for them to be sitting and talking.
The talk was not of them; not anymore. Now
They were talking about moths and how they
Fly erratically; she said that is how we fly too.
He thought to himself that can’t be true
Because people drive to work regularly,
They do have regular patterns that are straight.
She to him: people stay in line only when obliged;
Work, sleep, and standard routines.
He was thinking of her patterns now;
Is that how observations like this were made?
Had she looked at herself and saw erraticism.
They consulted the mighty google and discovered
Not that she was indeed erratic but
That earless moths fly erratically to avoid being eaten by bats.
The moths had no real destination other than survival.
They were not together by obligation; that was over.
They were not together by routine; that had been broken.
They were earless and afraid of the bats,
That chased them in the dark.
And avoided them by swerving off the lines
Of straight patterns into a one that neither of them
Could predict any better than the bats.
They were into survival not arrival.

Oy Vey (Ruffled)

Oy Vey (Ruffled)

by Big Frank Dickinson

Stressed again Oy Vey; annoyed,

Wishing she were disemployed;
No attaboy will cheer her up; the gender
Thing cloys (oh boy) another stupid offender.
Cowboy, choirboy, and bellyboy – ahoy,
It’s enough to make her want to deploy,
Alloy she won’t; her stance is solid
Corduroy poise rebutting the squalid.

No decoy, her look’s a savoy truffle.
Curvy joy; she ploys ruffles.

Randall Brock

Big Frank belongs to a group of poets in Spokane that meet every couple of weeks and share what they have written with each other. It is a great group: good writers and very helpful to each other in providing a place for them to gather and read what they have written. Today Big Frank is going to feature one poet from the group: Randall Brock. Randall has a beautifully unique style and a lyrical conciseness to what he writes. He has published thousands of his poems over the years. Here are four of his poems. Above is a photo of him that Big Frank took at one of our readings.

DESIRE IN RHYTHM

Desire

In rhythm

Thin

Of mad

Tear

In love

YOU ARE THE CRY

You are

the cry

deep

in dance

of blood

in mad

desire

silken

AUTUMN IN DESIRE

Autumn

In desire

Of mad

Dark

Rhythm

Of azure

Love

I AM A CURSE

I am

A curse

In caress

Of lost

Release