What an odd and mighty booklet.  The cover seems to be constructed from dried hay or wheat.  It’s thatched.  And an Internet search reveals that this book barely exists.  How mysterious.

              You don’t need to know the intricacies of haikai-no-renga form to enjoy the jumpy jazz of All Ears.  This book’s a long poem from 1993, but this edition seems to have been privately published in 2004.  The poets traded stanzas and all four have been writing for decades.  The second half of the chapbook is commentary, descriptions of what they liked and how they wrote it.

              The long poem gains eastern and mystical momentum throughout, building to the howl of a puppy, songs of night and the motion of light.  The wet of a snowflake kisses an eyelash, which leads to a haunting last stanza.

                                          sumacs run crimson

                            river of hawks cuts the ridge

                                          what more needs telling?

on this fresh black asphalt

shadows of power lines, of smoke

              It’s unusual and probably impossible to find, but seeking it out in the most bookish of places is worth the time, especially if you’re a fan of these accomplished poets.

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