As the entries came in for the fifth—and, for now, the final—stanza of our renga, I realized that a scholar of our doings would conclude that we had created a poetry multiplier. From the same opening stanza, an infinity of poems may follow.
Let me list some of the most notable poems that came in. If I take liberties—fusing lines from two separate entries, for instance—it’s because I continue to feel that we are involved in a literary collaboration, sometimes consciously, sometimes not.
Christine Rhein gives us “Summer, as in Lost”:
Work? No. Why? July. [Lee McAden Robinson]
Oceans imitate shell sounds [Paul Michelsen]
All summer I watch [Jeff Johnson]the waves endlessly enact
ritual resurrections. [Millicent Caliban]The weather geeks say [Angela Ball]
One thousand, and I shall have [Clay Sparkman]
Loved, undecided, [Diana Ferraro]Both yourself and your sour ghost
Until our red sky fades away. [Diana Ferraro]Tides beyond tally…
(August’s fire and fury).
Wind-pound. Heart-pound. Prayer.
Great last line, though it depends on our parsing “prayer” as one syllable. I would keep Christine’s first two lines but replace the third with this from a last line proposed by Michael C. Rush: “We sink, leaking salt.”
Courtney Thrash offered two worthy attempts at completing what Jeff Johnson started. I favor the one I fabricated by fusing her two final stanzas:
Beach Vacation
Work? No. Why? July.
Oceans imitate shell sounds
All summer I watchthe waves beaching themselves in
consummate redundancy. [Jeff Johnson]Such dependable
expungement: castles leveled,
footprints of hosts gone, [Jeff Johnson]the moon-blued sand prepared for
a gasping, whale-spat Jonah. [Jeff Johnson]I watch whitewashed waves
give and take away. Shattered
shells sing of summer.
Jeff completed “his” work-in-progress under the title “And What of Nineveh?”:
Work? No. Why? July.
Oceans imitate shell sounds.
All summer I watchthe waves beaching themselves in
consummate redundancy.Such dependable
expungement: castles leveled,
footprints of hosts gone,the moon-blued sand prepared for
a gasping, whale-spat Jonah,who shivers in the
surf’s ovation, gleefully
plotting his next tale.
Berwyn Moore coupled a variant of the poem’s opening with lines borrowed from me and from Richard Wilbur:
Shore Kill
Work? No. Why? July.
Oceans imitate shell sounds
All summer I watchfrantic little jackhammers—
seabirds, me, digging through sand, [Christine Rhein]crumble and carcass:
shipwreck, Jonah’s whale, salt-sting.
Sigh. Oblivion. [Berwyn Moore]Blue sea and sky yield to gray.
Ghosts go by, quiet as lust. [Berwyn Moore]Work? Yes. Why? August. [Berwyn Moore]
Oblivion signs: shore kill [David Lehman]
blankets earth with gold. [Richard Wilbur]
The best titles came from Michael C. Rush, “Once More Onto the Beach,” and Ravindra Rao, “Love, Undecided.” Encouraged by Charise Hoge, I crafted this poem, flipping the last two stanzas, and gave it Ravindra’s title:
Love, Undecided
Work? No. Why? July.
Oceans imitate shell sounds
All summer I watchthe waves endlessly enact
ritual resurrections. [Millicent Caliban]crumble and carcass:
shipwreck, Jonah’s whale, salt-sting.
Sigh. Oblivion. [Berwyn Moore]Time and tide wait for Jonah
under the ghosts of blue stars. [David Lehman]The weather geeks say [Angela Ball]
One thousand, and I shall have [Clay Sparkman]
Loved, undecided. [Diana Ferraro]
Here is Angela Sundstrom’s “Apotheosis”:
Work? No. Why? July.
Oceans imitate shell sounds
All summer I watchfrantic little jackhammers—
seabirds, me, digging through sand, [Christine Rhein]crumble and carcass:
shipwreck, Jonah’s whale, salt-sting.
Sigh. Oblivion. [Berwyn Moore]Jonah’s ghost beckons me to
follow the blue rushing tide. [Millicent Caliban]From the ocean floor
I rise into August. Scales
line the darkened beach.
I like Angela’s assemblage and note—to make a point if not a poem—that an alternative ending for it could be:
Tides beyond tally [Christine Rhine]
Climb unsuspecting gang-planks [Justin Knapp]
Waiting for lightning [Elizabeth Solsburg]
Next week I will propose a new challenge for us. Suggestions are welcome. I salute all who took part in the making of our renga.
