wood thrush
Vanishing when I wake
voice changing to wood thrush song
who are you
I pull the comforter up
over the tangled blankets

mp3 link

Dave Bonta (bio) crowd-sources his problems by following his gut, which he shares with 100 trillion of his closest microbial friends — a close-knit, symbiotic community comprising several thousand species of bacteria, fungi, and protozoa. In a similarly collaborative fashion, all of Dave’s writing is available for reuse and creative remix under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 United States License. For attribution in printed material, his name (Dave Bonta) will suffice, but for web use, please link back to the original. Contact him for permission to waive the “share alike” provision (e.g. for use in a conventionally copyrighted work).

12 Replies to “Tanka”

  1. I wish I could say what this photo does for me, but at the moment I can’t (and I’m a little ticked off about it). I’m an enthralled ticket-holder, sitting on a mile-high stack of theater cushions with no way down but to topple.

  2. I liked the poem very much as well. I fell from my cushions to bed. One thing, on the side, that I liked about the poem was the strange impression I got of a bed as a nocturnal creature, going to sleep as you get up. I loved the passage to wakefulness, the vividness of the spatial situation. In one reading I you moved and stood looking down on your bed as you carelessly made it. There was magic in how you split from your sleep to arrive at a standing position and how came to look down from the present at the past tense of your sleep.

    1. Thanks for the close reading. I didn’t get all that out of the poem when it emerged from the keyboard, but you’re right, that’s definitely in there. Interesting that in allowing one ambiguity to thrive, I licensed another as well.

  3. Wow, I like the way RLC read it!

    Donald Finkel had this to say about beds:

    the beds never got up at all

    pampered in linens

    sprawling in perfumed chambers

    while on their breasts the gentry

    shrieked and sweated

    muffling from time to time a sigh

    in a diffident pillow

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