"Sometimes it strikes me that the writers of free verse got their idea
from incorrect proof pages."
"I am against all the isms as being merely ideas in and out of favor.
The latest ideologies are formidable equations that resolve themselves
into nothing more startling than that nothing equals nothing."
Friday, March 21, 2008
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Revenge, by Arthur Yuwiler
"It is not to be endured," Zhou Chen said to himself. He glanced across the boat at the top of Sung Yun's head even as he plunged his long pole deep into the muck of the river bottom and pushed. The flat boat slowly slid forward over the brown oily waters of the Great Canal as the four men, one at each corner of the barge, pushed in unison, their movements coordinated by long practice.
He had no idea when the captain told him he hired a new man named Sung Yun that it would be the man disgracing his family. He shot another venomous glance at the other side of the boat although he could scarcely see over the pile of long bamboo, destined for the water pipes and scaffolding of Cheng Du.
The Grand Canal, less than a hundred feet wide, was grand only in name. Too small for more than one barge at a time, the barges stretched ahead and behind in a long single file and all maintained the same pace so that it almost seemed the barges stood still while the river bank and its row of whitewashed houses moved slowly past.
Sung Yun, face serenely untroubled, seemed unaware of the hatred directed against him. Placidly gazing at the houses and the river he leaned on his pole, raising it and letting it fall rhythmically and effortlessly while his face basked in the warm sun and the occasional fresh breeze.
Zhou Chen turned back to the muddy waters flowing past. A fresh orange rind of mango disturbed by the pole floated to the surface then fell, twisting, to become lost again in the brown waters and a sudden flash of ripples on the surface marked the violent struggles of the fish below. They mimicked the violent rages in the dark mud of his soul.
With his own eyes he had seen his younger sister, Li-hwa, plum-flower, walking beside this man, this Sung Yun, last week and talking; not walking with hands folded and eyes to the ground but walking beside him and talking as though to another girl. Yet Sung Yun had not come to the house and asked permission from father nor had he brought a gift to the family -- a chicken or a quail's egg.
He pictured Sung Yun's face in the water as he raised his pole again and struck viscously at it and into the mud. They should have stayed on the farm, he thought grimly, or at least stayed until the waters began to approach and his sister was older. The farm sprawled hidden between low hills a good two weeks climb from the great cities of Wuhan on one side and Chunking on the other. It lay nestled and protected by two small hills, like a child between its mother's breasts, hidden from the traffic flowing along the great river and from the political winds that swept across the land. So hidden and so protected they did not even know of the official decree on children until the family was already twofold blessed. Surely the farm stood far enough away from the river that waters would not reach them even after completion of the dam. They should have stayed but his father listened to the officials and took the official's money for the land. But money disappears while land endures and, as eldest and only son, the land would have been his while the money was his father's. They should have stayed.
He sighed. At least he had only one sister to guard. He remembered how the others had mewed and the sacks wiggled each time his father had to throw one into the water. It did not matter much for they were girls too but he remembered his mother's eyes when they returned home. Yet what else could his father do? The law said one child, and he already had two. Yet, they should have stayed on the farm. That land belonged to his family since the beginning of time, so long ago that no one knew who started to dig the well or to cut the terraces on the hill or build the first part of the big stone house. Surely his ancestors would be angry to see all their work go under the water. He hoped they understood it was the officials and not himself.
Here everything seemed different, the food, the customs, too many men and too few women and the women were brazen. At home, even after 20 years of marriage his mother would not dare walk beside his father but rather humbly walked five steps behind as custom demanded. Here his only sister walked side-by-side with a man unknown to the family and surely scarcely known to her. He did not like this different life. Yet he had to admit that traveling by boat up and down the river, meeting many people in many towns gave him more pleasure than standing half bent in the water of the rice fields each day and waking before the sun to milk the cow each morning. But still, land was solid and something to hold while no man could grasp water. It merely slipped through the fingers.
He shook his head. None of this helped. As elder son he must uphold the honor of the house of Zhou. But how? Broad of shoulder and muscled after working on the farm he was still no match for Sun Yun, a head taller and with arms thicker than Zhou's thighs. Not only might he be beaten in a direct attack but he might be shamed as well. He gave one more thrust of the pole into the water then pulled it back into the boat. They were passing under the great curved bridge now, and they rested on their oars while floating under its high arch. The river widened just beyond the bridge as it joined a branch of the Li tumbling down from the mountains and hastening the current. It made going downstream easier and faster but it took more work going back.
Before leaving, the captain, Xang Gi, told him that the boat docked at Tugow to take on three bales of rope and unload the mound of fresh cabbages stacked next to the bamboo. Perhaps they could stop for a minute and go to the bar. Perhaps he could get Sung Yun drunk enough to kill him.
Just as Xang Gi said, the raft tied up to the broken wooden posts at Tugow and Xang Gi began shouting at the dockman. "Where are the bales of rope?" The dockman merely shrugged.
A thin young boy waiting on the pier jumped onto the bobbing raft, balancing for a moment with outstretched arms. Then he briskly walked to the pile of cabbages and began throwing them one-by-one to his partner on shore who caught and stacked them in the small wagon.
"We can't stay here all day," Xang Gi, shouted to the dockman. "Three bales of rope bound for Kusan should be sitting on the dock. You're the dockman. Where are they?"
The dockman shrugged again. "See for yourself, they are not here. I'm only responsible for what's delivered not what is to be delivered. Perhaps they are coming. Perhaps they are not." He turned his back to the raft and walked into a little shed.
An old skinny man in short pants and a torn shirt squatted down and called to them. His thin face tapered like his graying beard. "How much would you charge to take a dozen geese to Yuan down the river?"
"Are all the geese in one box?"
"No, two boxes."
"Ten yen a box"
"Too much. I'll give you six"
"Nine"
"Seven"
"All right, you drive a hard bargain, eight"
"Done. I have them just up the road. Wait for me." As the man hurried off Xang Gi winked to Sung Yun. I would have taken five, ten for them both." He laughed. Sung Yun, also chuckled before turning back to look at the river.
This was the opportune time Zhou Chen decided. Head bowed, he walked forward.
"Sir, since we must wait anyway for the geese and the rope, may we refresh ourselves at the bar on shore before going on.?"
Xang Gi frowned, then suddenly shrugged and smiled. "Why not? The river would wait and they should make good time with the current. Sure." He squinted up at the sun. "But be back before the shadow of that post moves to the dockman's hut and do not get so refreshed you cannot pole the boat." He laughed again.
Zhou Chen ducked his head in thanks and walked to the edge of the raft where Sung Yun stood watching the way the reflections of the docked junk on the other side of the river wiggled in the water. He almost jumped at the sound of Zhou Chen's voice.
"Would you care to join me in a drink?"
Sung Yun looked at him, still startled.
"A guilty conscience," thought Zhou Chen, but he only said in a most polite voice "I will pay. Working companions should be friends. My name is Zhou Chen." He watched carefully as he said his name and caught unease in the other's eyes. Hah, I am right, he thought, This one has been trifling with my sister. Surreptitiously his hand brushed the bulge at the back of his pants. He had taken the cutting knife from its nail on the post in back. It would cut things other than rope today.
It did not take long for them to settle at a back of the bar. The funny brown pinched bottle of Moutia sat on the table near Zhou's hand and a small glass of the vile smelling but potent liquor lay before each of them.
"Shall we drink to our voyage?" Zhou asked raising his glass. He would only sip but act like he downed the whole thing.
"I'm not much for drinking," Sang Yun confessed sheepishly. "I mean I can drink but it gives little pleasure."
"Come, come, for comradery sake. Drink up." Zhou tilted his glass up and pressed his tongue against the rim to hold the drink back but the joint leaked and half the contents burned down his throat. No matter, it was still less than the whole glass.
Sang Yun shrugged, tilted his head and downed the contents of the glass in a gulp. He had scarcely lowered it again before Zhou pretended to fill his own glass and then refilled that of Sang Yun's.
Though he had only a little of the liquor, Zhou felt the warmth creep up his face. Sung Yun must be even more affected, he thought, though he could see little change. "You seemed startled by my name," he said smiling at Sang Yun. "Have we met somewhere before that I have forgotten?"
"No, no. It is just that I have heard others speak of you."
"They speak well I hope. Come. Drink up again."
"No, really, I should not waste your liquor."
"Forget it, Drink up I say. Those who spoke of me, did they speak well?" Zhou tried the tongue trick again, with the same results, as he watched Sang
Yun toss off the liquor.
"Very well. With much respect and honor."
"Ah yes, honor." Zhou paused a moment as he refilled the glasses. It was unseasonable warm, he thought. "Perhaps you have met my sister, Li-hwa."
He could see the flush rising in Sang Yun's face. The liquor was working. Or
was it the liquor?
Sang Yun suddenly gulped the contents of the glass then leaned forward and gripped Zhou's arm. "It has been driving me mad. Perhaps you could...perhaps you would help." he bumbled earnestly, "I know that I have nothing now, that I am merely a worthless wandering poet but my elder uncle has no wife and no sons and I am his only nephew and he has promised me his land when he dies if only I will do his spirit the honors that befit a dead father. But until then I have nothing but my back and my hands. With so many men and so few women, I know your sister must have a thousand suitors and that, as you are from an old and honorable family, your father has likely already betrothed Li-hwa to another. I, I have no right to speak, I know, but is there any chance, --do you think--I mean would your father take it as an insult if I who have nothing spoke to him of Li-hwa--." He squeezed Zhou's arm even tighter and drew his face closer. Zhou closed one eye and tried to concentrate on what Sang Yun's words. What was he saying? It was all very confusing and the weather had become so warm.
"I am unworthy I know and I do not mean to be forward but your sister is as the hummingbird, delicate and beautiful and as sweet as that upon which she dines. I can promise you I would treat her as the rare jewel she is. I may not be the best of suitors but I will be the best of husbands and when I receive my uncle's lands, wealthier than most." He stopped then as Zhou's head dropped forward and began to snore. Sung Yun looked at the sleeping man for a moment and then sighed. Had he heard anything, Sung wondered. Will he help me win the hand of Li-hwa? He sighed again, corked the bottle, wedged his shoulder beneath Zhou's inert body and stood up. As he walked out the door lightly bearing the dead weight of Zhuo on his broad back, he hoped the captain would not yell at him for getting Zhou drunk. "Why is it," he mused, "that those who cannot hold their liquor are so insistent on drinking?"
He had no idea when the captain told him he hired a new man named Sung Yun that it would be the man disgracing his family. He shot another venomous glance at the other side of the boat although he could scarcely see over the pile of long bamboo, destined for the water pipes and scaffolding of Cheng Du.
The Grand Canal, less than a hundred feet wide, was grand only in name. Too small for more than one barge at a time, the barges stretched ahead and behind in a long single file and all maintained the same pace so that it almost seemed the barges stood still while the river bank and its row of whitewashed houses moved slowly past.
Sung Yun, face serenely untroubled, seemed unaware of the hatred directed against him. Placidly gazing at the houses and the river he leaned on his pole, raising it and letting it fall rhythmically and effortlessly while his face basked in the warm sun and the occasional fresh breeze.
Zhou Chen turned back to the muddy waters flowing past. A fresh orange rind of mango disturbed by the pole floated to the surface then fell, twisting, to become lost again in the brown waters and a sudden flash of ripples on the surface marked the violent struggles of the fish below. They mimicked the violent rages in the dark mud of his soul.
With his own eyes he had seen his younger sister, Li-hwa, plum-flower, walking beside this man, this Sung Yun, last week and talking; not walking with hands folded and eyes to the ground but walking beside him and talking as though to another girl. Yet Sung Yun had not come to the house and asked permission from father nor had he brought a gift to the family -- a chicken or a quail's egg.
He pictured Sung Yun's face in the water as he raised his pole again and struck viscously at it and into the mud. They should have stayed on the farm, he thought grimly, or at least stayed until the waters began to approach and his sister was older. The farm sprawled hidden between low hills a good two weeks climb from the great cities of Wuhan on one side and Chunking on the other. It lay nestled and protected by two small hills, like a child between its mother's breasts, hidden from the traffic flowing along the great river and from the political winds that swept across the land. So hidden and so protected they did not even know of the official decree on children until the family was already twofold blessed. Surely the farm stood far enough away from the river that waters would not reach them even after completion of the dam. They should have stayed but his father listened to the officials and took the official's money for the land. But money disappears while land endures and, as eldest and only son, the land would have been his while the money was his father's. They should have stayed.
He sighed. At least he had only one sister to guard. He remembered how the others had mewed and the sacks wiggled each time his father had to throw one into the water. It did not matter much for they were girls too but he remembered his mother's eyes when they returned home. Yet what else could his father do? The law said one child, and he already had two. Yet, they should have stayed on the farm. That land belonged to his family since the beginning of time, so long ago that no one knew who started to dig the well or to cut the terraces on the hill or build the first part of the big stone house. Surely his ancestors would be angry to see all their work go under the water. He hoped they understood it was the officials and not himself.
Here everything seemed different, the food, the customs, too many men and too few women and the women were brazen. At home, even after 20 years of marriage his mother would not dare walk beside his father but rather humbly walked five steps behind as custom demanded. Here his only sister walked side-by-side with a man unknown to the family and surely scarcely known to her. He did not like this different life. Yet he had to admit that traveling by boat up and down the river, meeting many people in many towns gave him more pleasure than standing half bent in the water of the rice fields each day and waking before the sun to milk the cow each morning. But still, land was solid and something to hold while no man could grasp water. It merely slipped through the fingers.
He shook his head. None of this helped. As elder son he must uphold the honor of the house of Zhou. But how? Broad of shoulder and muscled after working on the farm he was still no match for Sun Yun, a head taller and with arms thicker than Zhou's thighs. Not only might he be beaten in a direct attack but he might be shamed as well. He gave one more thrust of the pole into the water then pulled it back into the boat. They were passing under the great curved bridge now, and they rested on their oars while floating under its high arch. The river widened just beyond the bridge as it joined a branch of the Li tumbling down from the mountains and hastening the current. It made going downstream easier and faster but it took more work going back.
Before leaving, the captain, Xang Gi, told him that the boat docked at Tugow to take on three bales of rope and unload the mound of fresh cabbages stacked next to the bamboo. Perhaps they could stop for a minute and go to the bar. Perhaps he could get Sung Yun drunk enough to kill him.
Just as Xang Gi said, the raft tied up to the broken wooden posts at Tugow and Xang Gi began shouting at the dockman. "Where are the bales of rope?" The dockman merely shrugged.
A thin young boy waiting on the pier jumped onto the bobbing raft, balancing for a moment with outstretched arms. Then he briskly walked to the pile of cabbages and began throwing them one-by-one to his partner on shore who caught and stacked them in the small wagon.
"We can't stay here all day," Xang Gi, shouted to the dockman. "Three bales of rope bound for Kusan should be sitting on the dock. You're the dockman. Where are they?"
The dockman shrugged again. "See for yourself, they are not here. I'm only responsible for what's delivered not what is to be delivered. Perhaps they are coming. Perhaps they are not." He turned his back to the raft and walked into a little shed.
An old skinny man in short pants and a torn shirt squatted down and called to them. His thin face tapered like his graying beard. "How much would you charge to take a dozen geese to Yuan down the river?"
"Are all the geese in one box?"
"No, two boxes."
"Ten yen a box"
"Too much. I'll give you six"
"Nine"
"Seven"
"All right, you drive a hard bargain, eight"
"Done. I have them just up the road. Wait for me." As the man hurried off Xang Gi winked to Sung Yun. I would have taken five, ten for them both." He laughed. Sung Yun, also chuckled before turning back to look at the river.
This was the opportune time Zhou Chen decided. Head bowed, he walked forward.
"Sir, since we must wait anyway for the geese and the rope, may we refresh ourselves at the bar on shore before going on.?"
Xang Gi frowned, then suddenly shrugged and smiled. "Why not? The river would wait and they should make good time with the current. Sure." He squinted up at the sun. "But be back before the shadow of that post moves to the dockman's hut and do not get so refreshed you cannot pole the boat." He laughed again.
Zhou Chen ducked his head in thanks and walked to the edge of the raft where Sung Yun stood watching the way the reflections of the docked junk on the other side of the river wiggled in the water. He almost jumped at the sound of Zhou Chen's voice.
"Would you care to join me in a drink?"
Sung Yun looked at him, still startled.
"A guilty conscience," thought Zhou Chen, but he only said in a most polite voice "I will pay. Working companions should be friends. My name is Zhou Chen." He watched carefully as he said his name and caught unease in the other's eyes. Hah, I am right, he thought, This one has been trifling with my sister. Surreptitiously his hand brushed the bulge at the back of his pants. He had taken the cutting knife from its nail on the post in back. It would cut things other than rope today.
It did not take long for them to settle at a back of the bar. The funny brown pinched bottle of Moutia sat on the table near Zhou's hand and a small glass of the vile smelling but potent liquor lay before each of them.
"Shall we drink to our voyage?" Zhou asked raising his glass. He would only sip but act like he downed the whole thing.
"I'm not much for drinking," Sang Yun confessed sheepishly. "I mean I can drink but it gives little pleasure."
"Come, come, for comradery sake. Drink up." Zhou tilted his glass up and pressed his tongue against the rim to hold the drink back but the joint leaked and half the contents burned down his throat. No matter, it was still less than the whole glass.
Sang Yun shrugged, tilted his head and downed the contents of the glass in a gulp. He had scarcely lowered it again before Zhou pretended to fill his own glass and then refilled that of Sang Yun's.
Though he had only a little of the liquor, Zhou felt the warmth creep up his face. Sung Yun must be even more affected, he thought, though he could see little change. "You seemed startled by my name," he said smiling at Sang Yun. "Have we met somewhere before that I have forgotten?"
"No, no. It is just that I have heard others speak of you."
"They speak well I hope. Come. Drink up again."
"No, really, I should not waste your liquor."
"Forget it, Drink up I say. Those who spoke of me, did they speak well?" Zhou tried the tongue trick again, with the same results, as he watched Sang
Yun toss off the liquor.
"Very well. With much respect and honor."
"Ah yes, honor." Zhou paused a moment as he refilled the glasses. It was unseasonable warm, he thought. "Perhaps you have met my sister, Li-hwa."
He could see the flush rising in Sang Yun's face. The liquor was working. Or
was it the liquor?
Sang Yun suddenly gulped the contents of the glass then leaned forward and gripped Zhou's arm. "It has been driving me mad. Perhaps you could...perhaps you would help." he bumbled earnestly, "I know that I have nothing now, that I am merely a worthless wandering poet but my elder uncle has no wife and no sons and I am his only nephew and he has promised me his land when he dies if only I will do his spirit the honors that befit a dead father. But until then I have nothing but my back and my hands. With so many men and so few women, I know your sister must have a thousand suitors and that, as you are from an old and honorable family, your father has likely already betrothed Li-hwa to another. I, I have no right to speak, I know, but is there any chance, --do you think--I mean would your father take it as an insult if I who have nothing spoke to him of Li-hwa--." He squeezed Zhou's arm even tighter and drew his face closer. Zhou closed one eye and tried to concentrate on what Sang Yun's words. What was he saying? It was all very confusing and the weather had become so warm.
"I am unworthy I know and I do not mean to be forward but your sister is as the hummingbird, delicate and beautiful and as sweet as that upon which she dines. I can promise you I would treat her as the rare jewel she is. I may not be the best of suitors but I will be the best of husbands and when I receive my uncle's lands, wealthier than most." He stopped then as Zhou's head dropped forward and began to snore. Sung Yun looked at the sleeping man for a moment and then sighed. Had he heard anything, Sung wondered. Will he help me win the hand of Li-hwa? He sighed again, corked the bottle, wedged his shoulder beneath Zhou's inert body and stood up. As he walked out the door lightly bearing the dead weight of Zhuo on his broad back, he hoped the captain would not yell at him for getting Zhou drunk. "Why is it," he mused, "that those who cannot hold their liquor are so insistent on drinking?"
Monday, March 3, 2008
Old Age
Old Age, a quote by Deanne Levitt
Old Age isn't what it once was...
It once belonged to other people!
Old Age isn't what it once was...
It once belonged to other people!
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