The Softness of the Hardness: a Hyakuin Renga
Poem by Joshua St. Claire & Amber Winter
The Softness of the Hardness: a Hyakuin Renga
Poem by Joshua St. Claire & Amber Winter
From the Archive of Saint Augustine's Magazine
Volume 2, No. 1 (2023).
beating the odds
to find you
Las Vegas snow
reaching past the city limits
everywhere we share is home
crisp morning
smell of cinnamon
fills the air
pigeons flit up
then settle on the wires
gentle twisting
the snap
of the pear stem
in the eddies of the stream
the first fallen leaves
learning next time
she shouldn’t swallow
Moon Dancer Winery
as she always said
spring forward and fall back
Autumnal Equinox
a ring-necked pheasant
frozen in the median
hearing her child play the triangle once
two hours well spent
a procession
of nymphs and fauns make merry
beyond the horizon
mother’s tail waddling
the ducklings form a line
a sushi roll
shrimp and cucumber inside
avocado outside
somersaulting down the hill
grass stains their momento
bullfrogs
losing count
of the Lyrids
mason jar on the windowsill
fireflies keep monsters away
a box fan
flips the lunar atlas
to the dark side
chocolates her trail
to the bath for two
the sweetness
in the swelling
of her hips
as she takes off her cover-up
a large surge overtakes the beach
his hives buzz the almonds
his mind on mead
not blossoms
hot from the oven
the slow drizzle of honey
strawberry shortcake
her fingertips stained red
from hulling
christening the ship
what a waste of good champagne!
the mirror
isn’t the only thing
his fists shattered
seven years bad luck
in Leavenworth
ball and chain
he tightens
her gag
the safe word garbled:
“slubberdegullion”
the dirtier the better
he counts out the quarters
to put in the bed
what dwells among the trees
in Acadia National Park?
mystery of Stonehenge
the toddler balances
himself across the railing
I kept telling them
to stay out of the hawthorns
only fearing the plunge
while hippos lurked below
Victoria Falls Devil’s Pool
another decade
in jet and black lace
days feel like years
waiting for the Ice Moon
to thaw
at absolute zero it would form
a Bose-Einstein Condensate
whispering a kōan:
am I the square root
of negative one?
collection plate, child exclaims
“Wow, dad is that a real hundred?!”
Ephrata Cloister
the softness of the hardness
of a wooden pillow
running late for Monday night football
Amish horse and buggy tailgating
the revolutionaries
even invented a calendar
to erase the past
could scientists accept Pluto
if it still identifies as a planet?
the old couple
complains about the ginkgo nuts
that the squirrels crave
grandpop’s worn flannel
now flaps on the scarecrow
coral spawn
the Darkest Depths Moon
becomes myriad
light shining down the rabbit hole
he’s too far to reach
so he goes deeper
toward the voices singing
Don’t come around here no more*
fairies dance to
the man with the stone flute
for just a week
the apple blossoms
soften the granite
laying nine pink peonies
one for each month of her life
graduation aisle
her first steps
into the next chapter
the coelacanth wriggles
onto the sand
bikini top
washes ashore
boys await eagerly
Haleakala’s summit
covered in clouds
trying to make sense
of his itinerary
dense fog
in his arms
a bouquet of compass roses
holding her tightly
until the reality
of the alarm clock
a pair of turtledoves
cooing at the window
fighting through the pane
visitation at the prison
ends with heartache
running through the atrium
into the sunlight
July playtime
little girl’s hair
white like grandma’s
sweet tea or lemonade,
darling?
on the saucer
bitten orange macaron
summer crescent
the Sphinx’s nose
lost to history
a flock
of passenger pigeons roost
in the chestnuts
the driver was riding high
on more than adrenaline
cast iron pan
blood spots on the yolks frying
sunny-side-up
scrambled frequencies
he fine tunes the aluminum
unzipping the skinsuit
she relishes the starshine
on her scales
lost in translation
the hiss and groan
dulcet tones
of suburban leaf blowers
muffle the worm’s cry
clogged gutters
the ladder falls away
a faceless reaper
comes in from the field
Harvest Moon
a romp in the hay
he envisions his ex
seeking
an elixir of forgetfulness
in empty glasses
countless love letters
the mail their only contact
seventeen cherry trees
survive the attack
on Washington, DC
humid swamp
moss hiding secrets
squealing piglet
next year’s
Easter ham
a-tisket a-tasket
a gasket in a casket
broken seal
aircraft door rips open
mayday! mayday!
smooth and silent at dawn
the waters of the Hudson
traversing the city
they cross the Tappan Zee
a third time
the Minotaur’s horns
redoubled in her green eyes
goats fainting
at the sight
of the wind
pampas grasses
tossing and whipping
Delilah’s betrayal
Samson’s locks and trust
hitting the floor
Mercutio’s sword
then the universe
one degree
the world shifts
into a glacial period
Maltese megaliths
frame a Frozen Moon
picture perfect Christmas
we hide our imperfections
under shiny paper
chlorine fills the foxhole
nothing emerges
Now no man at the table
knew for what intent
he spake this unto him^
the agenda deepens
Alexa and Siri say, “I do”
baby name database
deciding on the name
“Skynet”
high wire
below her the glass ceiling
Lady Elaine
leaves her loom
and blows out a candle
adding drops of lavender oil
to the fake flower bouquet
spring stars
lead us on
lilacs
on the map of my life
‘X’ marks the spot on his heart.
Poem published in The Fool's World precursor
Saint Augustine's Magazine Vol. 2, No. 1 (2023).