I suppose I can’t let National Poetry Month fly off unnoticed, though I feel the same about this form of promotion/consumption as I do about all the others (mother’s, father’s, white ribbon, pink ribbon, etc etc.) That is to say, I roll my eyes and and recall the very funny Tom Lehrer; “be thankful that it doesn’t last all year!” So here’s an old favourite from Reading Room, Dec 2019. The epigraph is an eye-opening haiku, which John and I used as inspiration for the eye-opening poem that follows, written by each of us in turn, one line at a time, passing it back and forth between us at the kitchen table.

No Bones About It

in the midst of this world
we stroll along the roof of hell
gawking at flowers

Issa (1762-1826)
Transl by Sam Hamill

We drag our bones across the roof of Hell
as lost, alone.  We ache for cold death’s knell
to quell the suffering of humankind,
in the belief perdition there would find.

The joy that’s here for our wide opened eyes
is neither down nor up, not earth or sky,
but that which lies within. So turn the page,
and dance upon that roof as Heaven’s stage.


Mia Burrus and
John Allport
Ides of January 2018