YGDRASIL: A Journal of the Poetic Arts

September 2011

VOL XIX, Issue 9, Number 221

Editor: Klaus J. Gerken

Production Editor: Heather Ferguson

European Editor: Mois Benarroch

Contributing Editors: Michael Collings; Jack R. Wesdorp; Oswald Le Winter

Previous Associate Editors: Igal Koshevoy; Evan Light; Pedro Sena

ISSN 1480-6401



David Sparenberg

Charles A. Perrone
   Intellectual Jousting (I’m Just Sayin’) 
   Her New Word Understood (w/ American spacing)
   the coming of the rains came 
   Memo to Process
   And Memorial Daze 2009

Felino A. Soriano
   Upon Hankering
   Watching, then
   Dialogue of 
   Version 1
   Secret, Sunday’s middle womb:
   Accolade of silent incentive

John Ladd

Rittvika Singh
   Indigo Footprints
   Banaras: Away From Ganges (A Sketch)
   Snippets :Being Inamorata


Michael Parker

   Poems, circa The Time of Migraines
      The beginning, a haiku
      The Preparations
      Migraine Dreams


David Sparenberg


Nobody is spared some contact with the common diseases of human uncleanness and planetary abuse.  
Cancer, madness, rape of the Earth.  Nobody is spared degrees of involvement with acts of crime, 
violence, which, always and everywhere, are eclipsing acts of beauty and reverence.

Trust is destroyed; compassion belittled.  Each heart is crucified and life is being stood up 
before the wall of execution.  Where can we look where there is neither bloodshed happening nor 
the threat of atrocity?

If ever there was a time to cry out to the deaf, that time is now.  If ever there was a time to 
bear witness before the blind, that time is now.  If ever there was a time for public weeping, 
o—for joining hands in a love circle of solidarity and making a candle-like attempt at honesty 
among those who are equally naked with the soft light of humility and courage, that time is now.

Morning.  I look eastward.  Daylight is gradually emerging.  I face toward otherness -- the agony 
and the promise -- and I pray.

3 Feb. 2011

Charles A. Perrone

Intellectual Jousting (I’m Just Sayin’) 

I. was a neighbor intrigued			J. was a person amazed
by a simple nominal fact:			by a known etymology:
Neighbor was a real family name.		Person derives from Latin for mask.

Struggling to grasp countless spores,	        Wondering why notes should be tied,
studies in contrast, and more cyphers,	        signals allowed to stand for numbers,
I. introspected when the singer sang:	        J. just rested to wait to hear someone:
“Imagine…”					“Justify…”

Her New Word Understood (w/ American spacing) apart from the extreme natural beauty of thunder with lightning, the crashing wonder and energy of rainbows arching over rows of blunderless corn and columns for crows to roost, protest, or reveal shocking paths of flights with plunder bins in mind, it has been the word itself asunder driving her to raid every staid reference to sites in sight, things toto caelo, to divide inexorably what truly merits shredding, what ails, like nails being yanked, a putting on rails, or simply the neologistic voice of detogetherment.
the coming of the rains came then the rains came to wash away the threats made good on or not of wood thrash or lots of lashing in tongues and branding on skins royal flushes emotion of drown kin and threads weaning mad queens off ire trash and wrath imperious kings of the sentiment thing flashing excesses of princess in reign angling still to analyze will an angry prince or more taking leave of his senses in flight through fences dukes dealing earls stealing reels off the floor the price of undone hunger without range is high low bills and deeds dangling from post combat arbor rage rinsing the teeth of ravenous counts with the sap and blades of knowledge of trees bats and harbors (august 7, 2009)
Memo to Process .start with the … kidneys, liver, colon, next body part/region, organ, text over what you might need -treatment , , , ablution, , , a new diet, or dext- erous avoidance of the death to no end.
And Memorial Daze 2009 the days of wine and roses and (the host his voice and chalice) raises are over and over our thoughts are (in line) with the fallen and speciously special s p e c t a t o r s who dine without fear sans fraught the feisty talkers who feast on fame and the road and kill of lame fowl fattened and drugged by fast chains so the fête is no sure bet nor appetite- whetting event: perchance the opposite as brazen speakers writers declare perhaps the contrary where waiters could dare to suggest maybe it's an anti-something (that) we as an awed hence wounded troop have yet outside the loop to grasp the group that eats and drinks and
Felino A. Soriano Upon Hankering Seated watching chaos cross complex diligent excursions of denied reimbursement, a sympathetic echo of woven words unravels touching hands across leaning danger of saddened shoulders my torso handles feminine vowels with collocated fashions of fascinated trembles and rewarded fixtures of the multiple desire.
Watching, then Impressions of the isolated method mourn and burgeoned heat a tear reforms contoured exaggeration of the adult face, altered. You withheld premise and devotional prose from an onlooker’s curious gaze and asymmetrical cama rad erie wanting the unwanted yen of sporadic chained affirmation to decompose historical facets etched by eerie hands whose momentum obligates faith into worried halls of a the mind’s compensating excerptions.
Dialogue of hymnal contrasts spiritual eclectic intentional unpredictable created returns wrought mimesis silent until delineated captures roam interrogating broken listeners, abdicating positional presence of existential bargains of neoteric exertions.
Version 1 You rebuild. Mistaken burgeons recant indelible maturation. Why? Questions curate followers’ inability: self, authentic purpose substitute portion/passion synonyms requiem gallant near-séance accidental findings blood of motive system whereabouts conundrum aspectual gild of aspired failed, reeffort.
Secret, Sunday’s middle womb: birth of broken silhouettes. Scent of wind’s gregarious breath song of mint, variant. Heard coronas caw caw erected crows formulate circumstanceses’ paved as pilgrimages fondling neoteric directions beyond eastwest pardons of oscillating inventions.
Accolade of silent incentive Element, comfortable diversion from silver stroked passion of elevated antediluvian passing. Monetary indifference promises jejune motives as desolate pain-held renditions of inoculate syncopation.
Matched , missed, more interactive interesting sans blemish of the monotone rendition bouquets of kempt sizes foray designation portable particles as dusts’ singular unseen physiognomy blemished though anticipating landing elsewhere window of discontent disrupts emotional appeal founding vocalized unification portend of aspectual desire fulcrum absolute return.
Withdrawn Ballad of morning, sifted tonal emulation, bridged vacuum excess corridors of incessant material, materialized. Gestural recompensation, physical heal of whole interpretation the mid-vocal spectrum: —after wind broke a syllable of time’s alphabetic collection everyday mirrors compensate roles indifferent toward alabaster ruins of pictorial promulgations.
Incendiarism hands locating heated dispositional excitation maintaining adolescent yen to acquire antiquated notion, burden of inflicted swell of dissipating allegories, role and dare disseminate reaction focal translucent epitomizing execration
John Ladd Dramatists Guild Member VARIATIONS ON THE POLIS: I: COMMUNIST EASTERN EUROPE A Play in One Act CHARACTERS (In Order of Appearance) The People’s President The People’s President’s Personal Secretary Member of Parliament Number One Member of Parliament Number Two Member of Parliament Number Three Two State Security Officers Member of Parliament Number Four Member of Parliament Number Five Member of Parliament Number Six SCENE A chamber of parliament in an unnamed Communist Eastern European country. At center stage is a lectern. On the lectern is a telephone and a gavel. Off to the right is a small writing desk with a chair. Offstage, right, the parliament is assembled. AT RISE THE PEOPLE’S PRESIDENT, carrying his notes, and the PEOPLE’S PRESIDENT’S PERSONAL SECRETARY enter from side-stage, left. THE PEOPLE’S PRESIDENT’S PERSONAL SECRETARY walks over to the small writing desk and sits down. THE PEOPLE’S PRESIDENT positions himself at the lectern, looks at his watch, straightens his tie, takes a sip of water and clears his throat. THE PEOPLE’S PRESIDENT Comrades. Comrades. I have called you here, together, tonight, so that we might take part in this unprecedented opportunity- which, by the way, is being broadcast live to a nationwide television audience- to decide, democratically, what course our nation is to take. As you know, we have, in recent years, experienced a period of great unrest in our homeland. It was a period during which “certain elements,” throughout our society, had both lied to our people and had attempted to undermine our economy. Today, dear comrades, I take great pleasure in being able to stand here and tell you that your government has not only survived, but has overcome and eliminated both these counter-revolutionary elements and their ill-fated attempts to infect our people- and the jobs they perform- with their particularistic social ills. (there is polite applause) In conjunction with this positive turn of events, I will now share with you a few of my thoughts and plans for further reforming our parliamentary voting procedure. What I am proposing is that each and every member of parliament will have an opportunity to participate, more fully, in the governing of our nation. (there is hearty applause) Yes, dear comrades, I know full-well that this is long overdue, but I have been extremely busy these last few years, and I ask for your forgiveness and your understanding. [There is vigorous applause while THE PEOPLE’S PRESIDENT impatiently checks his watch.] Specifically, then, allow me to outline, what I call my “Greater in Perpetuity Participation with The People’s President for the Humanization of the Homeland Program.” What this amounts to- and what I am asking you to vote on and hopefully pass this evening- is an individualized private voting session with me. This, I believe, will give us both the opportunity to be completely open, frank and honest with each other. Since this procedure will obviate the need for meeting here as a group, I further suggest that we conduct our meetings in the more relaxed, less formal atmosphere of my leisure offices which are located in the State Security Building. This measure, I am sure that you see, will not only bring us closer together but will further do away with the burgeoning bureaucracy that is becoming attendant to this parliament as it is now organized. Finally, since this parliament building will, therefore, no longer be necessary, I am suggesting that we turn it into a Sports Hall of Fame. (checks his watch) Now, comrades, let us begin the vote. Member of Parliament Number One, how do you vote? In agreement with me or against me? MEMBER OF PARLIAMENT NUMBER ONE (enters from stage-right and faces the lectern) With you. (exits at stage-right) THE PEOPLE’S PRESIDENT Number Two? MEMBER OF PARLIAMENT NUMBER TWO (enters from stage-right and faces the lectern) With you. (exits at stage-right) THE PEOPLE’S PRESIDENT Number Three? MEMBER OF PARLIAMENT NUMBER THREE (enters from stage-right and faces the lectern) Mister President, I understand what you have said. And yes, I am inclined to agree with you that closer communications between you and the members of this body are necessary. However- THE PEOPLE’S PRESIDENT (interrupting) Excuse me, sir. [THE PEOPLE’S PRESIDENT picks up the telephone receiver to the side of him on the lectern, dials a number and speaks, unintelligibly, for a few moments before hanging up. Enter, from stage left, two identically dressed STATE SECURITY OFFICERS who walk up and stand on each side of MEMBER OF PARLIAMENT NUMBER THREE.] Sir, if you would and because time is short. I believe that these gentlemen- who are, incidentally, members of my “Task Force On Getting Out The Vote”- are interested in having you- how shall I say- accompany them so as to better debate the merits of this particular issue. [The two STATE SECURITY OFFICERS lock their arms through those of MEMBER OF PARLIAMENT NUMBER THREE and begin moving so as to exit at stage-left.] MEMBER OF PARLIAMENT NUMBER THREE But Mister President- THE PEOPLE’S PRESIDENT Yes, yes- thank-you. [THE PEOPLE’S PRESIDENT watches the three of them until they are gone, checks his watch, and faces forward.] Now, shall we continue with the vote? Where was I? (he checks his notes) Yes, Member of Parliament Number Four, where are you? [MEMBER OF PARLIAMENT NUMBER FOUR enters from stage-right and faces the lectern.] Do you vote for my proposal or against it? MEMBER OF PARLIAMENT NUMBER FOUR I vote for it. (exits at stage-right) THE PEOPLE’S PRESIDENT Number Five? MEMBER OF PARLIAMENT NUMBER FIVE (enters from stage-right and faces the lectern) I vote for it! (exits at stage-right) THE PEOPLE’S PRESIDENT (checking his watch) Number Six? MEMBER OF PARLIAMENT NUMBER SIX (enters from stage-right and faces the lectern) I, too, vote for it! (exits at stage-right) THE PEOPLE’S PRESIDENT Comrades, comrades. I must admit that I find your support most overwhelming. So much so that I see no reason to prolong this needless demonstration of unanimity longer than need be. I feel confident that the people of our country have seen enough. I believe that we have shown the people that we can and do conduct ourselves in a civilized manner, and that we are in no way guilty of the barbarities that certain Western-revisionist elements accuse us of. Therefore, what I am now proposing is a further refinement- evolution, if you will pardon the expression- of our democratic process. [Enter from stage-left, the two STATE SECURITY OFFICERS who take up a position to the left of THE PEOPLE’S PRESIDENT.] So, rather than vote individually on this matter, let us just have an “old-fashioned” democratic show of hands. (adding quickly) Not your right hand- do remember where you are- but your left hand. (he looks over the chamber) Good. I was right! It appears that our unanimity continues. But, just for curiosity’s sake, let’s have all those who are against my proposal raise your right hand. (he looks over the chamber) My, my, not a single right hand. Members of parliament and all you comrades out there watching me, I must confess that I am truly touched by this vote of confidence. I then see no reason why we should not adjourn this last session of parliament. Are there any objections? (he pauses to allow for objections) None? Good! This session and this parliament id forever adjourned. [THE PEOPLE’S PRESIDENT picks up the gavel and brings it down forcefully. He then organizes his notes, readies himself to leave, but remembers one last thing.] By the way, comrades- comrades! Please! May I have your attention for just a few moments longer. Thank-you. Allow me to bring to your attention- (he points to his PERSONAL SECRETARY sitting at the writing desk) The pleasant young officer. He is my personal secretary It is his responsibility to coordinate your personal appointments with me. I urge you, most strongly- especially if you problems or unvoiced objections- to avail yourself to be as cooperative as you see fit. (he smiles) Thank-you, again. CURTAIN END OF PLAY
Rittvika Singh Indigo Footprints Shimmering lights from the pane Melt in eyes and trickle down At the distant edge of an unknown land I followed indigo footprint Weaving the golden fibre of love I whispered a song of pain And then I followed the indigo footprint Dabbing feet in the ink of ecstasy Who walked across the white of my mind? Stumbling and bumping but poised I have let out my arms often Charred love in the burning furnace Strews ashes, ashes ashes around Indigo footprints fade away, sinking and sinking beneath the ground Fuming off in the heat of your soul I drained myself in that madness Madness-what is called love. Love-broken Love-To be continued.
Guest Chinks and Cracks and nothing will we see We too will sit to write a story when A light had kissed those chinks once Now they exasperate and lock the doors The city sinks in the eyes for ages Today I broke the slumber of a hope again Intoxicated, it will run in somewhere Somewhere, We too will be a guest for an eve.
Dusk Its all around me Dusk penetrates deep inside On the lonely road, ambling Within the yellow light Under the shadows of the naked trees I felt it was there inside me For ages,like The uprooted trunk cracking the plaster Dusk was stretching out its branches I did leave the strings of the sun I did not try to pull and hold There it will dip in the purple horizon Strewing the crimson sparkles around And then deserting the moment in Umpteen hues of Colourless-ness!
Banaras: Away From Ganges (A Sketch) A gulmohur fell coyly at an evening's feet For a while it smelt of the temples and idols A deserted mosque and a graveyard on Fatimaan road Stood dreaming amidst the fragrance of bouquet shops With the half skyscrapers of empty aspirations The city rolls on the yawning wheels of timelessness Neem tooth-twigs neatly arranged at the foothpath, laughs In the face of the sacred-threaded-pig-tailed, non-vegetarians A blinking rear light of a vehicle stops at an ancient puncture repair Run for the "Indane" cyllinders with a burning pile of wet dung cakes Chokes the throat and waters the eye, of the city In the black smoke of a dogged vulnerability Trolleying the paunch of paan-eaters, the city Burps and splashes the red spit on the sun On a cornered EGG-Rool corner, would-be-men gather And talk of censors, of IIT and IMS of future Filth putrified in fluroscent blue...within A Hanuman and a Durga wait to be worshipped "Ganga-and-trident myth" walks by the alleys and hoots In the drowsy alarm of a night watchman... City rebuffs in the voice of a flute, and a tabla and sitar Bhim-palsi, Ahir-bhairon, Shiv-ranajani... Rejoices the "outdai" of little Krishna playing cricket On the ghats... It doesn't meekly lives by the river, The river seeps in and floods it every night And plummets every morning with the sound of bells... And fumes of camphor.
Snippets :Being Inamorata I saw the sunset behind your shoulders And left the light in the creases of shirt I removed the strand of hair from collar And wiped all signs of love all over again _____________________________________ Love seeped in traces of deference In reveries and in hallucinations We walk in the daze of frozen kisses In silence of denial and chaotic acceptance Silk of hands running down the hands It melts in you for years, in rain It drenches me for ages, in sun * Standing at the cross roads on a parched land With clenched eyes, I wait for you. Daydreaming evenings droop down trees Fading in sun, I wait for you. Blue-eyed shadows saunter along Pale faces bid cold goodbyes I leave your touches in the backyard While I wish to wait for you * Of love slash clamouring Of love slash dreaming Of love slash waiting Of love slash burning


Michael Parker

Poems, circa The Time of Migraines

The beginning, a haiku

Long, swollen river
levees at the breaking point:
migraine watch

The Preparations I transform our bedroom into a crypt to block out the sun, its stabbing light. I fill up my ears until I'm deaf. I dissolve a tablet under my tongue to calm the stomach’s tumultuous sea. And I swallow a drug to ease the pressure of the steam engine building in my fracturable head. I’ve dug a hole in the dark. I’ve made myself a round stone, curled into its contours to fit its womb. Motion will crack everything. But I still can see. I’m seeking for relief on the bleak landscapes on the backs of my eyes. It’s a barren hope. But I pray anyway. Maybe peace will arrive at the end of the holy mantra. Maybe salvation is somewhere thick in the folds of time yet to be born to the unknown day or its sister, night.
Migraine Dreams I walked the desert of the sun. Light was the sage, the Joshua, and the wild grass. Our youngest son was struck down by a lightning rod in a violet-robed storm. You and I sought privacy in a labyrinth of rooms. Our bodies, like vines, grappled to sate our longing to be one. Like a bird, I flew the lower sky, above suburbs, parks, and busy interstates, the cars sparkling in the sun like rows of alabaster pearls. I perched on trees and high monuments. I told people standing on Earth not to worry that I stood on ledges. I landed on railway tracks. They hummed and I searched for something at my feet, in between the oil-soaked boards. Was it a fragment of my waking self? I didn't see the freight train until it was upon me, like a beast. I materialized in an all-red theater lobby. A killer walked out of a movie poster, luring three of us into an unused hallway. A sharp blade brandished, he said I'm going to flay you for food. I escaped from a door marked "Exit", climbed to the roof, spread my arms, and flew into the safe sky.

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