August 06, 2024

June 07, 2024

June 05, 2024

Bright Stars 6

In 2013-2014, M Kei launched the Bright Stars project.  His aim was to capture the various styles and voices of tanka being written at the time.  The seven volumes of Bright Stars were wildly successful in achieving that goal.

I have posted below the 40 tanka of mine published in Bright Stars issue 6, as well as the spot from its introduction where Kei discusses my work:

From the Introduction:  “Read is particularly good at writing un-tanka, poems that at first glance look like tanka, but which turn out different than expected. This volta, or turn is widely thought to be essential to tanka, but Read is adept at turning the turn into kyoka. His poems can be variously read as humorous tanka, parodies of tanka, or simply as skewed perspectives on human nature (all volumes).”



Tanka:

the end of the day

we got back

to nature

plucking burrs off

the legs of our jeans 


a police lineup

or a dating site?

in retrospect she wouldn't

have picked him

out of either


hoping the early bird

chokes on the worm

I shut the window

bury

my head under the pillow


he removed

the last

traces of their evening

shoveling her

footprints from the sidewalk


the moon shines

through a veil of clouds

I see my neighbor

peeking

through his blinds


I google

Basho's frog

and the splash

it didn't make

on the Internet 


combing through

old ideas

for new poems

still unable

to untangle the knots


balanced between

my thinning hair

and thickened waist

is the same guy

you knew in high school


he wipes her 

tears away

but not

the sadness

pooling inside


though she talks

about me like

I'm not even there

I respond 

like I probably was


branching out

into the sky

she never imagined

the need

to come down


whatever

his parents said

the extra fiber

wasn't the prize

he wanted from his cereal


the rain spills over

the sidewalks

and yards -

I struggle to direct

my imagination 


accused of

being a cheat

before rolling

the sleeve where

I'd hidden all the answers


although his net

was large enough

to land a small boy

he never took

his children fishing


how easily the children

make friends at the park

I flip on my phone

ignore

the other parents


his collection

of old keys

unlock

the doors to

his imagination


the children

serenade us

as only a choir

of off-key

angels could


he wrote poems

like speeding tickets

rushing to

get through

his daily quota


the air again clear

of industrial smog

he steps outside

for a quick

cigarette


knocking out

the power

and my alarm clock

the storm that kept me

up all night


looking up from

the computer

my son asks about

my favorite website

as a kid


after a day of

window shopping

she finally

shuts her

browser down


fishing

this stream of words

only bottom

feeding cliches

nibble at my line


cutting down the trees

planted in my childhood

my parents now accepting

me leaving

long ago


setting the chairs

further apart

helped him

expand

his audience


dinner party and

i'm already

bored

the flower starts to

droop in its vase


snowflakes

hang in

the frozen air

I refuse

to offer the first word


he held me

to account

for the values

he didn't

live by


stretching into

former farmland

the city grows like

crops

we never harvest


watching my kids

on the monkey bars

too much the gorilla

to get

across myself


only a couple

years old

the toys

we carry

to the basement


a baby bird

stranded in our yard

I sit

beside my son

watching for the mother


rocking the youngest

of 3 to sleep

we drift into

the rhythm of

our new family


lowering the rim

I dunk

on my driveway

a glimpse of the life

I believed I'd lead


looking like insects

from the high-rise

all the people

who would

bug me up close


checking

the UV index

I shield my phone

from the glare

of the sun


this mountain lake

as deep as time -

I splash

my sunburnt face

with its icy waters


following where

the bike path leads

as the days of

summer

roll off one by one


the way she carries

another man's

scent

I'm still unaccustomed

to my new deodorant