Jack Vian

January 20, 2020

“Flow Chart Without the Flow” by Jack VianPosted by

Jack Vian

FLOW CHART WITHOUT THE FLOW

Does she know
That I know
What she said?

 

>or<

 

Does she think
I think
She’d say

 

“Yes?”

 

Does she think
I think
It was my idea all along

NOT

To have made him choose
Whom he thinks she thinks
I think she would want

>but<

To have what she wants?

 

>or<

 

Did she always know

So that’s why
He felt safe to say
“Yes”
To the “No”
That was always
Meant to disturb
Her lips
As much as
Mine

 

>and<

 

[if so]
Where does that leave
>me<
except to pretend
everything
is exactly as lonely
and silent
as only a smile
can know
the eye
to be?

—from Rattle #65, Fall 2019

__________

Jack Vian: “So often when we poets write about the art of poetry and its making, we turn to highfalutin, metaphysical, and downright supernatural psychobabble to exalt and explain our ways and means to the unwashed and ivory-templed alike. I just like to play with words because it makes me happy. It makes me even happier that I’m pretty good at it. It make me happiest that poetry is a never-ending quest that never quits inviting us to pass on the ‘pretty good’ and continue pursuing a growth mindset of ever-cuter and tricksier methods of leveling up and exploring the infinitudinal limits of our literary playland’s rides and attractions. This poem’s no different. It’s just me hanging out backstage at ‘The Kidd and Khamille Show’ while playing Pokemon Go with the remixed and mashed-up wordtracks until the only dancer left on the floor is another sand castle disco ball hustle queen wearing a tinfoil crown dedicated to the auspices of truth, hope, and the all-too-human trifecta of never-yielding samsaric despair. Cheers!”

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June 18, 2015

“Musashi-san” by Jack VianPosted by

Jack Vian

MUSASHI-SAN

Haibun

Who are the ones who awake without hearing
the sound of the sun-filled
clouds
dancing upon the edges of an outstretched wing?

And who am I?

To stand alone like a swordsman
without his sword,

a mere figure
in the unresolved distance
like a brushstroke

awaiting a scroll—

an empty bowl
ungrateful for the pleasure
of its emptiness

—from Rattle #47, Spring 2015
Tribute to Japanese Forms
2016 Neil Postman Award Winner

__________

Jack Vian: “For the incarcerated poet, a poem is more than just a literary construct, it is an ideal given flesh. It’s the difference in wishing that a passing plane will notice the ship-wrecked castaways, and taking the time to carve an SOS in the beach or put a message in a bottle. So I’m always thankful when readers find something worthwhile in my experience. The only Japanese form that I use regularly is the haiku, and my practice of that had fallen into arrears. But I wrote this highly versified almost-haibun while reading a biography of Miyamoto Musashi.”

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September 4, 2012

“Like an American Princess” by Jack VianPosted by

Jack Vian

LIKE AN AMERICAN PRINCESS

Rubbing the Buddha’s
Golden Belly in a Chinese
Restaurant, the pig-tailed
Girl claps her hands and drops
The flimsy fortune, already
As forgotten as the cookie
Crumbs her father brushed
From her cheek with the calloused
Thumb of a busman’s
Hard-earned holiday,
And then she skips
Out the strip mall door
And into the blaring light
Of another blazing, migrant sun.

And all is right, he thinks,
And ever will be. But how
Could he ever know
How often she would remember
How often he forgot
To smile.

—from Rattle #36, Winter 2011
Tribute to Buddhist Poets

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