Dream songs are strange
And strangely comforting
Whether the Ferryman or Berryman
Or a Fortenberry I
Poetry unites in solitude
Prometheus afire, tranquility found
Despite the years, the tears
As he noted, “I’m alone too”
Which quickly turned into
“I’m too alone”
So what the tide of time
Turn the page
Oblivion no more
Agony unbound
We found each other
Immortal, weighted
By the pain of years.
[ c 2013 thomas fortenberry]
Night after night feverish
-ly I flip and turn
channels, watch
World War II in high-definition color
try to catch a glimpse
of the newly minted officer
beside the newly constructed bridge
or in his starred green jeep
or there by the pitted tank
or by the crumbling inn in the captured, smoldering town
or meeting with the resurrected-Roman General
or simply self-aware and winking at me
from the past with a dog-tired group of grinning friends
self-assured they are building my future
in which I search history programs
from the luxury of our prosperity
looking for my grandfather.
[c 2012 thomas fortenberry]
Here is a poem I wrote a decade plus ago, which was published in EnterText 3.2.
“People Crossing an Arched Bridge”
Something came together
inside the first time I saw
Ariwara no Narihira, or People
Crossing an Arched Bridge,
that nineteenth-century woodblock
explanation of a poem.
Look at the backwards glance of a woman
perched at the centre of the bow
bridge with her companion like dual arrows
ready to shoot into heaven.
Where is she
going? To what
is she pointing? Down
goes the path, or up
froths the water, or dry
float the miraculous leaves?
Look at that laughing fan
flapping the forward-leaning fun
of two fast friends facing each other
with their burden firmly between
their ascension assured.
It is the spontaneous release after death
has been faced; I know. Wordsworth
be damned, I have witnessed it
in the duality of their swords.
Look at the two fishing
in the rapids of life
beneath the bridge so high.
Or has the one already fallen
in and is just now scrambling
his way back onto the bank
while the other attempts to fish
his lost belonging out of the water?
Look at the two opposite
everyone else approaching:
their burdens are tremendous
and they are hugging
personal demons; bundled
within may be doubts and fears,
the past pulled forward
like a load of straw into their future.
Or was it merely the chill
of winter’s approach, the invisible
wind undrawn upon the canvas?
Look at the perfect arch
of the bridge, cat-like
it stretches across the middle
of this quietly painted world,
connecting home to the wild
undergrowth of the side lost
to view. Where is it
located? What river flows
beneath it? What roads
and lands and people does it connect?
I wonder at the golden leaves
swirling like fallen stars flowing
down the rapidly running river
and glance back towards its source,
only to discover the poem
hanging in the corner of the sky
as radiant as the sun.
[c Thomas Fortenberry]
Note: The Japanese print “People Crossing An Arched Bridge” in the woodblock ukiyo-e style is in the James A. Michener Collection at the Honolulu Academy of Arts. It illustrates a poem by the ninth-century poet Ariwara no Narihira, and is from the nineteenth-century series “One Hundred Poems Explained by the Nurse.” Michener discusses ukiyo-e art in his book The Floating World (1953).
This is an interesting interview about the rise of the latest steampunk subgenre, the all “new” Tsarpunk.
So, for the sake of simplicity, I’ll say that Tsarpunk is fantasy that takes its inspiration from the aesthetics, culture, politics, and social structure of early 19th century Russia.
Da, da, of course.
Besides the explosion of very cool, very unique Russian SF that poured out of post-Soviet Russia, I think Michael Moorcock may have helped this (and the entire Steam Punk) genre along for decades with all his Tsaristic Nomad(s) of the Time Streams, and Byzantium, and Brothel in Rosenstrassean fictions. Read for instance these summaries of The Warlord of the Air and The Steel Tsar.
Cover art from the first edition of Warlord of the Air.
More in a moment on this when I am finished teaching this class.
This is interesting to me because I once outlined an historical novel (perhaps series) based on the lost son of Julius Caesar and Cleopatra. This could tie in directly, or be related to it as a side series. Very interesting. Gets my creative juices stirring.
Cleopatra and Antony’s Children Rediscovered
Cleopatra’s twin babies now have a face. An Italian Egyptologist has rediscovered a sculpture of Alexander Helios and Cleopatra Selene, the offspring of Mark Antony and Cleopatra VII, at the Egyptian Museum in Cairo.
Discovered in 1918 near the temple of Dendera on the west bank of the Nile, the sandstone statue was acquired by the Egyptian Museum but has remained largely overlooked.
Richard Hobbs writes of the importance of scholarship and true authorship in this revealing essay on Roald Dahl and the Mildenhall Treasure.
Also, a good reminder to read all things Dahlian. A brilliant author.
