Neverland

The eyes always get you, those faces staring

from supermarket posters, the missing children

plucked off streets, vanished into forced labor,

begging gangs, prostitution; some maimed,

some recovered, some gone forever.  Once,

on a train to Shenzhen, a teen boy, dressed in rags,

one eye, half his chin missing, entered our carriage,

hushing the chatter, singing like an angel for coins,

and I mean like Bocelli, or Pavarotti, our car filled

with ear-melting Italian opera, rocking and swaying

through the Chinese countryside, the closest we,

in our economy class hard seats, would ever get

to La Scala, or the Bolshoi, if we even knew what

those were, and the boy finished to utter silence,

our open jaws and wet cheeks, his good eye

scanning the crowd,  and for one second it rested

on me, this otherworldly eye, this eye of the stricken

universe, and I am ashamed, but I looked away, as

did the others, ruffling their newspapers, pretending

it never happened, in that uneasy air, before the boy

moved on to the next car and beyond, to be lost

among the billions. No one spoke, all of us

aware of the sticky business of childhood in Asia,

knowing that the eye had seared itself into us;

an open wound that would fester within for years.

~ Lauren Tivey

*This poem originally appeared in the debut issue of The Verse (August, 2013), which is now defunct. Editor Dan Navarrete wrote of the poem, "A call to take action, excellent depiction of the reality surrounding impoverished youth in China. Truly a piece that sinks into our hearts and refuses to let go, just like the imagery". Sorry to say The Verse didn't last, and the website's now gone. I was lucky to find a copy of this, hidden in my email files, as I'd lost the original in the expansion drive crash, and the only other copy was on the website which closed. 

Dancing in the Park

Old-timers gather in the evenings after dinner,

at a square near the lotus pond, loudspeakers

spilling Classical music in the setting sun.

Couples form and begin twirling and dipping,

women in crisp skirts and heels, men in blazers,

the shy wallflowers with glittering eyes, waiting.

It’s Valentine’s Day, a first date, that awkward

high school dance, even the father-daughter

dance you shared at your first wedding

under a sparkling tent; but you never dance

anymore.  Now you watch.  Off to the side,

chattering grandmas are making deals, playing

matchmaker, trading photos of their marriageable

offspring like baseball cards, while divorced women

frown, lonely and ignored (this, a traditional city).

And you consider stepping to the sidelines, causing

a stir as the only foreign woman, a divorced one,

at that, but you don’t, and it grows dark.  Couples

are leaving hand in hand, soundmen joking over

cigarettes, packing up their equipment, as the

lotus blooms begin to wilt in the fading light.

~ Lauren Tivey

*Note: 2013 salvaged poem from my expansion drive crash

Year of the Snake

It slithers in, wet and black in the night,

bringing its bombs, guns, knives, wide

eye of the lunatic fringe, encouraging

the fanatical, and that’s no joke, no

cute astrological nonsense, now, is it?

This morning rain is cold, spotting

the windows, as I sit and worry

about loved ones near and far.

In a good Snake Year, business

deals, money-making (beware

of loopholes), but a Water Snake

year is the Satanic abyss, the void

of deep space, a hungry wolf

howling in the Arctic expanse,

humming on a full moon nerve.

In the blue light of the television,

I am sending electronic messages

of support, carrying on with both

hope and dread.  When it stops raining

later today, I will go out and look at all

the flowers of this mad, gone world.

~ Lauren Tivey

*Note: Salvaged poem from my expansion drive crash. This was written last year, in 2013, which was the Year of the Snake. Currently, we are in the Year of the Horse.

The Departure

for *Hai Zi (1964 – 1989)

Have you gone into the sunflower,

young brother of Van Gogh?

Have the ravens lovingly picked

your mangled body clean?

When you laid your life on the tracks,

that whistle to the void, calling, calling,

was it for the empty plains of Tibet,

the sea waving its flags by Fujian?

Perhaps the boyhood fields, lush

Anhui, the ancestral grass?  Land

of autumn, or the stars, the moon?

:  We trace your comet in the sky.

Rumors of love’s neglect, yet I see

you upon a beach, arms flung wide,

qi of your grin, your child’s love,

charms, faults, embracing the All.

That iron bearing down—your last

train out to the cosmic hinterlands,

the psychedelic sun, where the coin

is poetry, and all the gods are young. 

~ Lauren Tivey

  

*Hai Zi (Zha Haisheng), a young Chinese poet who wrote of nature, love, loneliness, and death. He was from a poor family in Anhui, and went on to study law at Peking University at 15, Later, he taught Philosophy and other subjects, and devoted much time to writing poetry. He committed suicide at the age of 25, by lying on the train tracks near Shanhaiguan. He left behind about 200 poems, and though never published much in his lifetime, he has become a cult figure in modern Chinese poetry. 

**Note: This is a salvaged poem from my expansion drive crash (written last year). 

Learning to Play

Digging through my usb files the other day, I was happy to find six poems that weren't lost in the Great Expansion Drive Crash of 2013. Cool! As I mentioned in an earlier post, I'd lost ALL of my work (writing, poetry manuscript, photos, teaching materials, etc.), and didn't think I'd ever recover any--I must've had these five poems in a different place. I don't think I'll submit these anywhere, as I've started over fresh, so I'll post the poems here over the next few days. Anyway...here's the first:

Learning to Play

The pale birds of her hands flutter

over the strings of the guzheng,

sound of the lotus, a bamboo forest,

a peaceful boat on water. Her fingers,

born for porcelain teapots, calligraphy,

silk, are plucking out High Mountain

Flowing Water, are conductors of dark

storms, confident upon the bridge, as in

Three Variations of Plum Blossom, or

mellowed with reflection, as in my favorite,

Song of Fishermen on a Homebound Boat

During Sunset, before the happy home port

of its coda. She places my awkward palms

upon the rosewood, guiding the unsure

attempt;  me, attuned to electric guitars,

heavy drums, afraid of something

so delicate. I’ve no talent here. Her laughter

lifts me though, like the chiming of bells.

~ Lauren Tivey

Poem in The Coachella Review

My poem, "Outsiders", appears in the Summer, 2014 issue of The Coachella Review (link below). I feel lucky to be included with some great writers--be sure to also check out Diane Lefer's fiction piece, "Our Lady of the Mineshaft", which takes place in Bolivia. Many thanks to the editors for the inclusion!

The Coachella Review, Summer 2014:

http://thecoachellareview.com/wordpress/?page_id=162

Chinese Pastoral

Once in awhile, I get lucky:

After losing ALL of my unpublished work in The Great Expansion Drive Crash of 2013, I thought I'd go and at least copy my published work off the internet, to help get my bearings and start rebuilding my portfolio. Unfortunately, a couple of the literary journal websites had closed, leaving no archives behind, and that published work was lost forever. I understand, though--I know that editing a literary journal is tough and often thankless work, and being an editor is not something I could ever do. Sites close down all the time. I've seen journals pop up and then disappear within a month, even. It's not a business for the faint of heart, for sure.

Anyway, the editor of one of the longer-standing journals, the respected Hobble Creek Review, made the decision to close its doors recently, as well. HCR held the only copy of my poem, "Chinese Pastoral", but I didn't get to it in time before the site went dark. My expansion drive crash had wiped out all my written work--now, the site with the only copy of the poem was closed, as well (ouch!). But, it's not the editor's job to make sure writers have copies, or to keep archives active, or even to notify writers a site is closing, so I just resigned myself to the fact that the poem was gone. That's why I was so surprised when HCR editor Justin Evans was able to retrieve it, and I'm so grateful to him for going out of his way to get it to me.

A spot of good luck! Who'd have thought, after all that? I'm posting the poem here, which originally appeared in the July, 2012 issue of HCR. I'd also like to thank Justin and wish him the best in his future endeavors--I'll certainly miss HCR.

Chinese Pastoral

(a trptych)

i. Guangxi

Long-haired Zhuang women are singing,
clapping, stomping feet to the drumbeat
in the wooden village house, bells
of their silver headdresses, chiming.

Stopping, they raise hands in unison,
driving it up, past the corn-draped rafters,
up, into the hoary skies, their spells
cast far, to the fickle ears of harvest gods.

Their men don't interfere, but watch
and smoke, as brown as the rice terraces
ribboning the hills, weathered,
as the dormant fields of dragonfruit.

The drum sounds again; again the women
pound the boards, their wool-wrapped legs
jumping, voices ringing over all of Guangxi,
as they conjure the planting season into being.

ii. Jiangsu

Aromatic tea fields sparkle in neat rows.
Women in straw hats bend in a ballet, spry
as the bushes they scratch around, the happy
animals of their bodies, moving in sunshine.

Beans twist up bamboo stakes, the pinch
of manure and soil baking in the nostrils,
play of tomatoes, herbs, and birdsong,
names of every plant on the tongue.

Tractors rumble by, and whistling men
with shovels, who stop to urinate
in the woods. Often, a violent burst
of afternoon clouds, rain tamping dust.

They laugh during tea breaks. They work
long and hard. They work long and hard.
Their young have left for the cities, forgetting
the songs, the land, but sending money.

iii. Sichuan

Before leaving for the upper pastures,
the women are tossing flour to the wind,
toasting skies with strong barley beer,
chanting prayers, singing for the crops.

Men are readying the mills, fixing carts,
slapping backs, and singing their own
kinds of songs. The mules stamp
and snort, game for their bundles.

Husbands and wives bicker, shoot
glances and mutter curses, their hands
raw with work, a cruel sun pushing them
to move fast. All day, the loads roll in.

Tomorrow, the next day, and the next;
these shining meadows of sunrise,
awaiting the songs, the caress of hands
in the soil, with all the loyalty of a lover.

New Poem at Lowestoft Chronicle

One of my poems, "Monkeys of Emei Shan", just went up in the autumn issue of Lowestoft Chronicle today, and is available to read at the link below. I think this satirical piece of mine fits in quite well at this great little magazine, which is full of humorous travel pieces. Check 'em out, if you have a chance, for fiction, creative non-fiction, and poetry. A big thank you to editor, Nicholas Litchfield.

Lowestoft Chronicle

New Poem at The Verse

Ah, here's a nice welcome back from summer holiday--one of my poems, "Neverland", appears in the debut issue of The Verse (mine is the third poem, if you scroll down). I like what the editor, Dan Navarrete, wrote about my poem: "A call to take action, excellent depiction of the reality surrounding impoverished youth in China. Truly a piece that sinks into our hearts and refuses to let go, just like the imagery." Cool! I think I'm also to be their poet of the month for September, as well. Wishing The Verse the best, and I hope the new journal is a success! Check 'em out at the link below:

The Verse

UPDATE: The Verse no longer exists. That's a dead link above. I just went to check, and it's gone. They never came out with a second issue, so I was never featured as their poet of the month, either. What a shame.

Acceptance at The Verse

Coming soon, in the debut issue of The Verse, a monthly online poetry journal set to begin publication in August, will be my poem, "Neverland". I'm also honored to have been asked to be their Poet of the Month for September, which will include a bio and photo, and showcase three of my poems. The Verse will also begin offering a print version in October. I love debut issues! Wishing editor Dan Navarrete the best with this new venture. You can visit the magazine (first issue isn't up yet, though) at the link below, and I'll post more information once it goes live. 

http://www.theversepoetryjournal.org

Poem at Drunk Monkeys

There are some kick-ass online magazines out there, and Drunk Monkeys is one of them; a hip, slick blend of literature--including short stories, poetry, flash fiction, and book reviews--television recaps, short films and film reviews, culture (art, politics, and religion), music, and all sorts of commentary (be sure to check out the piece on James Gandolfini posted yesterday by editor-in-chief, Matthew Guerruckey). Happy to have a poem picked up by them. "Bigfoot on Main Street" appeared yesterday, at the link below. Check them out--it's a great place to wander around:

http://www.drunkmonkeys.onimpression.com/literature/poetry/bigfoot-on-main-street/

Acceptance at Lowestoft Chronicle

Really pleased to receive an acceptance from Lowestoft Chronicle today. My poem, "Monkeys of Emei Shan" will be published in their fall issue, at the beginning of September. This is a quarterly online literary magazine, featuring poetry, fiction, and creative non-fiction, with an emphasis on humorous travel pieces. I've enjoyed their offerings for awhile now, so I'm happy I'll be a part of it. You can check them out here, if you wish--I bet you'll like them.

Leaving Nanjing

A new poem of mine, "Leaving Nanjing", is now up at The Camel Saloon. It's rather dark, darker than most of my stuff, actually, but a visit to the Nanjing Massacre Museum is what prompted it. This piece has been floating around in my head for a long time, and gone through numerous revisions, so I'm glad it's found a home. With special thanks to editor, Russell Streur, of course! You can read it at the link below. Also, if you have some time, please check out all the other work by the very talented poets and writers of TCS--it's a great place.

http://thecamelsaloon.blogspot.com/2013/06/leaving-nanjing.html

New Poem at The Camel Saloon

My poem, "Du Fu's Cottage", just up today at the much-loved Camel Saloon, and available at the link below. With a big thanks to editor & barkeep, Russell Streur!

http://thecamelsaloon.blogspot.com/2013/06/du-fus-cottage.html

This reminds me: Make plans to visit Li Bai's tomb before leaving China. Don't want to miss that.

New Poem in The Blue Hour

This is my third poem with the lovely lit journal, The Blue Hour. "Flying Eaves" just went up today. Please check out this dreamy and beautiful online magazine if you have a chance--it's chock-full of wonderful work and photography. With special thanks to editors Susie Sweetland Garay and Moriah LaChapell. Link below:

http://thebluehourmagazine.com/2013/05/26/flying-eaves-by-lauren-tivey/

Poem at The Blue Hour

My poem, "House of Light", which was written for I.M. Pei and his wonderful Suzhou Museum, is now up at the wonderful lit journal, The Blue Hour. A big thank you to editors Susie Sweetland Garay and Moriah LaChappell. Check them out, if you have a chance--link below:

http://thebluehourmagazine.com/2013/05/16/house-of-light-by-lauren-tivey/

Coolness Abounds at The Camel Saloon

Just heard that my poem, "Magnolias", published in The Camel Saloon this past April, was picked as an editor favorite (thanks, Russell!), to be placed in Volume 3 of their companion site, The Second Hump. This is great, as front page poems soon fall into the archival abyss, and don't get read much. You can check out my poem, and other poems by Laura Behr, Amy Soricelli, Brian Wake, Stephen Jarrell Williams, and Jeremy Marks, at this link:

http://secondhump3.blogspot.com/

Also, if you haven't already, check out The Camel Saloon main site here. I promise you'll love the fine mix of poetry, prose, photography, and other goodies, and enjoy a warm welcome from editor/barkeep Russell Streur. It's a real community over there, so please do visit them. I need to get back over there for a visit myself--it's been a crazy couple of weeks at work! Cheers, Lauren

30/30 Poems Coming Down

I'll be removing all the poems posted on here for the NaPoWriMo challenge last month--30 poems in 30 days--for further revision and possible submission to literary journals. I apologize, if you commented on any of these poems, because they'll be deleted. It's important to revise them though. Also, many journals won't accept work that appears anywhere online, even if it's on a personal blog. Anyway, it's been a fun challenge, and I got a lot of good pieces out of it. Now, back to writing...

P.S. This is my 100th blog post. Wasn't sure I'd stick with this when I got started (yay, me!).

Split Lip Anthology

Just found out that Split Lip Magazine has put together a print anthology of some favorite poetry and prose from their first five editions. My poem, "The Breakdown Atlas" is in there (very cool--I haven't been in actual print for years, other than my chap). It will be available in select bookstores in Indianapolis, Chicago, L.A., and beyond, and also for sale on Split Lip's website in a couple of weeks, which I'll post then. If you'd like to order a copy now at the temporarily reduced price of $4.00, you can do so here. Below, a shot of the ridiculously cool cover:

Some featured writers: Michael Martone, Alexis Pope, Kristina Marie Darling, and Scott Siders. I urge you to check it out, and maybe purchase a copy. A big thanks to editor J. Scott Bugher for including me!

Poem at Split Lip Magazine

A great way to start the month--my long poem, "The Breakdown Atlas", is now posted in Split Lip Magazine's brand-spanking-new May/June issue. A big thank you to editor J. Scott Bugher--GREAT issue, and I'm honored to be a part of it. Check out all the awesome poetry, fiction, art, music, and film at the link below:

http://www.splitlipmagazine.com/#!5-lauren-tivey/c1dl0