Organizing Dialogue, Experience and Knowledge for Complex Problem-Solving

Clara Hsu-San Francisco Poet

by • August 19th, 2011

Clara Hsu is one of the San Francisco poets we met and even heard read her work, accompanying herself with Chinese singing bowls. A wonderful combination.


Cherry Blossoms

To dream
is to wake when the first
token of romance is set adrift.
The crystal droplets that clung onto new shoots
have given birth.
The sun, in mere days, ripens the offspring.
They bloom in droves,
pale lace wrinkling on the edges,
blushing as they warm.

To wake
is to walk into the dreamscape of flowers
masking earth and sky,
and petals are the rain.
Young girls clip a cluster of pink
on their long black hair,
half-cover their faces
with lacquered parasols.
Young men get drunk on love poems.

To wake again
is to let the maudlin memories
be crushed by tire tracks,
and watch cyclists careening down
the velvet floor,
swift as birds in flight.
*

Kersenbloesem
Dromen
is wakker worden als de eerste
blijk van romance op drift is gezet.
De kristallen druppeltjes die kleefden aan nieuwe scheuten
hebben gebaard.
De zon, in luttele dagen, rijpt het nageslacht.
Zij bloesemen veelbloemig,
bleke kant rimpelend aan de rand,
blozend als zij opwarmen.
Wakker worden
is wandelen in het droomlandschap van bloemen
die aarde en hemel maskeren,
en bloemblaadjes zijn de regen.
Jonge meisjes spelden een tros roze
op het lange zwarte haar,
half bedekkend hun gelaat
met gelakte parasols.
Jonge mannen worden dronken van liefdesgedichten.
Opnieuw wakker worden
is de huilerige herinneringen laten
vergruizelen door bandensporen,
en kijken hoe fietsers naar beneden slingeren
op fluwelen grond,
snel als vogels in vlucht.
Read More

Leave a Comment

untiteled ancestry by devorah major

by • August 9th, 2011

u n t i t l e d  a n c e s t r y

i a mongrel
a crossbreed
a mutt
a grafting of cultures
a planet varied
sea to land
calm to storm
wondering in the mirror
where did the eyes come from
and the texture of hair
who saw to the skin tones
and who to the lips
arbitrarily naming the source
of my limbs
my hips
my face
i landless
homeless
being so much a mixture
a couscous of spices and fruits

a mongrel of the comings together
chosen/forced of so many different ones
a crossbreed that fills the spaces
between rich dark and translucent fair
a mutt that has unruly fur
cropping out in varied shades
ears and tail being strangely incongruent

i the grafting of cultures
that insists where love fails
life will persist, thrive, recreate
a planet varied mountains to hills
to valleys to chasms deep
waterfalls to rivers to streams
to oceans wide a melange i
claiming space on the rainbow.
Tomorrow the dutch translation of this lovely poem.
Read More

Leave a Comment

Moku

by • July 28th, 2011

Ana Elsner, German born, living in San Francisco where she is part of the poetry scene coined the word Moku. It stands for her interpretation of haiku: MOdified haiKU. Here you see her reading July 30 – she reads very expressively- at the Om Shan Thé,…

Read More

Leave a Comment

a new salon 12b event

by • July 24th, 2011

A new event of salon 12b is planned for September 1st. One could interpret this as a ‘dress rehearsal for the 2nd European Festival of Poetry on September 17, 8 pm in the Permeke Library in Antwerp.’
On September 1st, among others, will be present and reading/performing Lucienne Stassaert with Jean Demey, Annie Reniers, Peter Holvoet-Hanssen, Bart Stouten, Frank Devos, Roger Nupie who will be once again our MC at the Festival and others… During the festival we’ll have 9 poets or musicians traveling from other countries: three from The Netherlands, 3 from the Lower Rhine area Germany, one from Bretagne, France, one from San Francisco, USA.
Since Marleen de Crée won’t be able to make it on September 1st – but don’t worry she will be there during the Festival I post one of the poems she intents to read September 17.

Si more sonando

nacht waait uit de bomen weg,
brengt wind in de vleugels. uilen
wieken in hun sluierdans. roepen.
vredig geluid. wij kunnen praten.

schaduw nestelt zich in ons bed.
handen splijten onze blik, glijden
in het gerommel. breken de wet.
hoe zullen we vallen? onze kussen kruisen

het pad, bijten zich vast in het vel.
liefde spant als een gloeiend gewelf
tussen hemel en hel. tussen de dromen
en de sterren slaat zij het beleg.
uit: Hinkelspel, uitgeverij P, 2008
*

Si more sonando
                        (One dies making music)

night is blown out of trees,
brings wind in wings. owls
sail in their dance of veils. call.
peaceful sound. we can talk.

shadow burrows in our bed.
hands splinter our sight, slide
in the turmoil. break the law.
how will we fall? our kisses cross

paths, sink their teeth in skin.
love spans like a glowing dome     
between heaven and hell. between the dreams

and the stars she lays. 
US:Annmarie Sauer

Read More

Leave a Comment

poetic license – salon12b 2011-01-28 06:40:00

by • January 28th, 2011

Next to poet Rose Vandewalle, Lucienne Stassaert preparing her performance.

Follows poem # 2 from the series 1-7 called Leben-Leven-Life

© sms:foto duisburg/rhein 2011

2
Het heeft vogels nodig
om te zingen
mensen om te verdwijnen
zon en maanlicht
om kleur te bekennen:
hoe geladen het is
met betekenissen
in spiegelschrift –
Tekens om met hand en tand
te ontcijferen
want op het lijf geschreven
van wie je voorging
op de weg naar het einde –
 *
Es braucht Vögel
um zu singen
Menschen zu verschwinden
Sonne und Mondlicht
um Farbe zu bekennen:
wie beladen es ist
mit Bezeichnungen
in Spiegelschrift
Zeichen mit Klaue und Haar
zu entziffern,
weil auf den Leib geschrieben
so wie du vorgingst
auf dem Weg zum Ende
*
It needs birds
to sing
people to disappear
sun and moonlight
to show one’s color:
how charged it is
with meanings
in mirror-writing –
Signs to decipher
with tooth and nail
because inscribed all over the body
of who before you took
the road to the end

Read More

Leave a Comment