While I was in the mode of thinking on things Japanese, I remembered this poem from my compilation, The Rip of Gales. I can't recall exactly the circumstances of its composition, but I believe I had seen a friend do a linkage of traditional haiku "stanzas" concatenated into a longer poem. When I say "traditional" it should be in inverted commas: the English "Haiku" probably bears no resemblance to the Japanese original, requiring only a 5-7-5 syllable count; but the form has become ubiquitous and accepted, at least commonly. The uniqueness of my formation, below, lies in the addition of rhyme and meter; but the form has little future, I decided, and have left it unpursued.


Haiku Poseur

​I
His petty rancor
Stirs not my tranquil bark, a
Ship tied at anchor.

II
As lazy verses
Scale his vanity’s arc, a
Vain fool rehearses.

​III
He apes a Shakespeare
Whom—innuendos proffer— 
Modesty makes peer.

IV
With scorn belittles
Sundry the tireless scoffer,
But pride embrittles.

​Adapted from a translation by David Sulz

Be not defeated by the rain,
Nor let the wind your master prove;
Succumb not to the wintry plain
Nor sultry summer let one move.

Be strong in body, by desire
Unfettered, not enticed to anger;
Cultivate joy, instead of ire,
Feed others first, despite one's hunger:

In quiet equanimity
Put others first, count oneself last;
Observe and hear attentively,
The lessons garnered holding fast.

A thatch-roof house, in shade of pine
Upon the meadow nestled nice;
Some simple fare on which to dine,
Rice, miso, greens—let these suffice.

If to the East, a child lies sick,
Go forth and nurse his convalescence;
If to the West, crone derelict,
Relieve her burden with one's presence.

If to the South, one dying lies,
Let words of courage fear dispel;
If to the North, harsh contest vies,
The ways of tranquil spirit tell.

In times of drought, not be withheld
The tears of knowing sympathy;
In summer chill, concern not quelled,
Companion walk in empathy.

Aloof from the unknowing masses
Better dismissed than to succumb
To greatness deigned by ignorant classes:
So I should be, or would become.

We have little book boxes up in the neighborhood where people can exchange their books. These are described as miniature libraries, which have cropped up in part to help citizens compensate for the failed public library system, as well as providing a place for one's discarded personal copy of a title just read or any other unwanted book. (The Public Library "weeds" its books and makes sure they get shredded.)

I found this oddity of a title, Cultural Literacy by E.D. Hirsch, in my street's box while passing by on my way from an event. It is hard to characterize the book. Published almost thirty years ago, it looks to have functioned primarily as a defense of white cultural hegemony. The book seems to have arisen, if not from, then in tandem with the Reagan administration: an essential promoter was William Bennett, U.S. Secretary of Education, who is blurbed on the back ("This important book could, and should, change what goes on in our nation's classrooms. It makes the critical point that we learn how to learn by learning something") and who is credited in the book's preface for his enthusiasm in "champion[ing] its ideas."

More than 3/4ths of the book (per page count) is devoted to a list, "the Thinking American's List" according to the cover, and it is this that has attracted my attention more so than the interior. It is hard to say exactly what the organizing principle is behind the list: are they items that a literate person should know, or are they what literate persons (in the U.S.) already professed to know? The list is compelling, but strange. Apparently the whole of it is not available online, but if you click the title link above, Amazon.com's "Search Inside the Book" feature will bring up portions. The first and last pages look like this:

It has been suggested that the book may profitably be viewed as a time capsule of its period.

Not immediately evident are the selection criteria for terms—why were some things included and others omitted? Furthermore what is the use of topics without any contextualization? "1492"? "1939-1945"? Presumably Columbus sailing the ocean blue or the Second World War are of significance, but of what use are the freestanding dates?

Also blurbed on the back jacket, Richard C. Anderson, Director, Center for the Study of Reading, University of Illinois, proclaims "Hirsch makes an eloquent and, I believe, persuasive argument that cultural literacy is not inconsistent with cultural pluralism". Not inconsistent, one presumes, if those subject populations can only be made to toe the line with colonialist aspirations. He also declares, "Hirsch's erudition inspires awe"—a bit hyperbolic, that.

The skeptic in me wonders if this might not have been a first salvo in the "dumbing down of America" which has been superbly effected in the years since Reagan, exclusive of certain pockets here and there. The text itself does not inspire me. One learns that "Confucius is as wise as Socrates", for example, which is essentially meaningless in any context. Far from being "the Thinking Person's List", the idea seems to be: Here are things you don't need to think about, just memorize a few key phrases.

It would be nice to read a modern-day deconstruction of the book, the list, and (apparently) the phenomenon, by the hands of a Ta-Nehisi Coates, who might, through retrospective analysis, explain what it was all about. I was alive at the time, but can't make head or tail out of it.

A friend recently went to see Satchmo at Court Theatre which I expected beforehand was going to be garbage, and she confirmed my prediction. I wrote previously that its presence in the lineup of a supposed "classical theater" signified degeneracy not only for the theater company itself, but with broader implications touching on the city of Chicago. I might be inclined to revise the latter part of that assumption: changes are burgeoning on the northside and it's hard to say where all the activity will lead.

Unlike—or I might say, a far cry from—Court's previous production of Agamemnon, after which only three audience members stood, Satchmo roused its audience to a standing ovation, which has become de rigeur in Chicago for every sort of theatrical mediocrity. "People like plays which acknowledge the audience to be on the right side of social conflict," she said.

Thinking of that last night, after seeing Posh up north at Steep Theatre, I decided her criticism to be not without purchase. It is the reason why Agamemnon did not induce a post-presentation standing euphoria: not a soul in the auditorium was left unscathed, Agamemnon implicated all of humanity. Satchmo left people comfortably sitting on the right side of the issue of racism.

Posh was directed by Chicago's Jonathan Berry, one of the best talents we have working in the city. Its execution was flawless. The playwright, Laura Wade, is new to me. "Perhaps she will be the new Caryl Churchill," my companion said, urging delight by mentioning my favorite living playwright—though what commonality they may have besides being British and female would be hard to say, nor (obviously) is it something to be sought. Contrary to a recent derogatory remark I made about a local Chicago hack, when a masterful director controls the staging, it is easier to see through to the structure of the play. Technically, Posh was flawless.

The only possible flaw one might point to in the play was thematic: a gathering of phenomenally wealthy spoiled rich boys (or young men, as it were), left the moral dilemmas drawn pretty much without nuance. It was, however, an excellent production, and certainly several cuts above what the effete cultural snobs were getting with Satchmo.