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Contributors
Christopher Kelen
scroll of green mountains
a collection of poems in the manner of the Tang poet, Meng Jiao
1
the north wind bites
at crags
which cannot be scenic
but for the water
and the woods below
river goes where feet won’t
still I’m drawn on
into this night
2
flows into the mountain
to distances on
a voice upon stones
bright
brings views of elsewhere
ten thousand voices
sort to season
sun, moon in glimpses
rosy peaks
from clouds are grown
and gone
I must move higher
3
my stick
brings me everywhere
of the trail it was made
foolish legs won’t carry me home now
look at me —lichen
grown on a river bend
so the caged bird is muted
the royal horse brought to heel
it’s not the right time
and never the right time
the superior man’s
biggest sneer
for himself
silence
a duty
to mountains and mists
4 snow peaks in the tarn
a sprinkling of stars
the river runs too fast to rhyme
dark waterweeds
moss floating
to tame
the in and out
heart mind
begin with observation
5
waves come through the hollow of valley
they deafen
water so fast it peels the fish scales
the mountain is sharp
its ridge drills the sky
steep earth hewn stairs
and dangerous planks
these lean against
the blue, the green
immortals fly
on fine boned wings
from great heights
one exaggerates
mere duckweed
my view here
the forest below
6 notes in clear water
tunes of cold stars
to wash old things
brings back the colour
I drink from snow melted
not from the stream
which passes men’s haunts
smooth marble has a sharp edge
jade is dense, is matted, like grass
river and valley
mortar and pestle
the argument of right and wrong
and always wrung one way
7
go deep into the valley
go high for the best views
past paths, past every human trace
escape the vulgar world
forget mortality, daily things
foolish beasts will not fear people
thus they’re tricked with nets
equality of poor and rich
comes only at this height
see scholars clean like clouds
and thin, so thin, dissolving
8
ten thousand zithers
the discord of town
where here the one stream sings
old men keep their strength
but when the wind blows
lean in to the cliff
to learn among mountains
the peaceful mind
never need be calmed
9
I crossed the south river in the great wind
today I climb for the view
most things in the mountains seem gaunt
nights ice and the days cast in shadowless snow
gaze into the depth of jade iced over
still the spring sings
no mending old worries
dragons hide their scales to float
fish leap for new poems
forget the old
the moon is yet to hang on sparse summits
not even the sun knows where it will fall
10
shall we visit the virtuous in first light?
this mountain’s thick with hermits
the wind like a brush
over inkstone and valley
how angrily
a river flows
to set down
the lure of all things
in spite of their wildness
just here
where I’ve sought
to lose my way
the mountain is strong
but the horse is weak
the horse is walking
the mountain towers
I must raise the bridle
nine times in ten steps
east, west? I’m going in circles
water in the stream
now rain
the cliff is dark with mist
clothes billow and sway in the storm
kudzu flowers wither, fall
light gone, at last alone
day’s journey done
the mountain is mysterious
plants on it are always green
stones of five colours make it up
the lakes are strange as well
wine for the immortals won’t make you drunk
life’s lengthened when wishing gives way
starry night — hear the devout
to sleep through their song
would be disrespect
I heap pine wood against the cold
I warm my hands to write
their meaning between lines
a wanderer by borders
months and years
the tracks on my face
time and again
I went up the mountain
no use to pick the fragrant flowers
that once in ten years we might meet
only the winter moon reflecting
only the pine to straighten the heart
though ice on the surface shines
bright as glass
the water still runs far below
parable
who says green mountains are tortuous
and will not bend the straight pines there?
who says that muddy water
cannot dull the bright moon floating?
I have an honest heart and clear
but the folk here distrust the hardship of chastity
none of that wavers my resolve
integrity stands taller than pines
the green of the mountain won’t bend
horseflies gather
to the bloody beast
it can’t walk
almost dark
no way back
on the track ahead
the grumbling of tigers
not from cold
the lone traveller shakes
for a monk
in the mountains
early or late
rosy clouds
the garment of the valley plain
a fire is built of cypress
learning the Buddha’s way is hard
the monk sews the climbing fig
in order to make his robe
chant of an old man in the mountains
I didn’t till the ground below the mountain
I went to the top,
tied an axe to my belt
to chop pines on the way
brought a ladle for water
from my home spring
how would I know the power of words?
there’s no need of memorising sun or moon
my body is of crooked wood
unsuitable for carving
how else would life be long?
drink more!
perhaps you’ve not noticed
no shadows are fixed in daylight
the river’s ripples won’t come still
you can’t live for a hundred years
but if you could — so what?
good wine before us
music out front
one more!
don’t say your face is red
have you noticed
there are more and more pine trees every year
more graves every day
keep watching the south mountains
let me know if you see any change down there
1
climbing the mountain
I thought of something
cold rain tormenting all the grasses
a sudden gust stirs up the road
friends scattered, family
how can they be helped, protected?
five senses, five emotions shattered
how does one get to be old?
2
sky vast and wild
da hua
the changing
the source of creations
everything returning to nature
the sun’s six dragons
rushing to the wasteland west
day by day, more jackals and wolves
the frost comes on the grass and the woods
in a hungry year
birds disappear
not a grain is wasted
3
sleepless
pacing
waking or not
the fidget of the bitter mind
went up to the roof
saw the old stars
still stand
the seasons stayed as they were
though spring was everything’s desire
it too was with eternity
so loyal the starving
so straight the dead
I thanked the ancients
for their kind attention
4
the moon is a beautiful woman
ten thousand miles away
she is cool
all the way here on this hillside
yin air
the grass withers
the empire a city a palace
a blackbird in the jade hall
up and left
like that
the man of integrity. . .
no joy for him here
what’s he to do?
ah but too many names to remember
wealth and fame in the morning
always indigestion later
bad dreams
exploits of the ancients
have always confused me
the beautiful moon shines cool
shines clear
5
I, among all the appointed officials,
went to a far field
came back in the sunset
Xi He, the sun god, stopped his wheels then
four seas stood in the afterglow
so desolate the sudden wind
the owl cried high
other birds leaned in
all things scattered around
a man in the east
happy alone
why so silent,
so burdened with everything,
knowledge, the way?
hungry even at year’s end, the poet
closes over the makeshift wood
which you will kindly call his door
6
fire clouds
show up the white of the moon
full tonight
wise men and fools alike in awe
at daylight bettered
there are many moons
every moon has its parts,
horns and quarters, new, full,
waxes wanes
every season returns
so every star shines
not to be missed
7
wind shook the empty mountain
raised my head to the stars
all foretelling
met in the evening at the river bridge
not much to say in sorrow so deep
a poem had been left to tell
it was because of the corrupt government
he’d left the country
a long time parted from the ones I love
head full of home thoughts
as soul from body
life from its engendering soil
heart has its own way home
8
birds from the east, from the west
fly
cry
in sorrow
wish I could get past clouds
to the blue
drink in
the uncluttered infinite
address to a certain notable
visiting Zhong Nan Mountain
sir, you’ll notice
this mountain’s stuck mid-way
between earth and sky
sun and the moon
both rise from its rock
day’s afterglow when night has fallen
dawn’s slow in the deepest ravines
people who visit here — sturdy and honest
the path is uneven but their hearts are not
wind moves the pines
leaves sweep the ten thousand hollows
I know it’s hard work and fame
chased you here
we’d appreciate it
if your pager was off
a visit to Long Chi Temple in Zhong Nan Mountain
birds cannot fly
to this house just for monks
a dragon makes the water green
when the rain lets up
how fresh the mountain
I walked above the white sun
clear river far below
the ground was cold
the pines far down
paths uneven to walk
when evening came
the copper rang
heaven knew
the mountain
looked up
aubade
lamp gutters
but our talk goes on
stars still
but the day unveils willows
shows orchids in dew
little mountain
laughs at the towering peaks
a new song?
this one for dawn
my companion already has words
now that I can see the strings
I cannot find the chords
Christopher Kelen
is a well known Australian poet whose works have been widely published
and broadcast since the mid seventies. The Oxford Companion to
Australian Literature describes Kelens work as “typically
innovative and intellectually sharp.” Kelen holds degrees in
literature and linguistics from the University of Sydney and a doctorate
on the teaching of the writing process, from UWS Nepean. Kelens first
volume of poetry, The Naming of the Harbour and the Trees, won an
Anne Elder Award in 1992. In 1988 Kelen won an ABA/ABC bicentennial
award with his poem “Views from Pinchgut.” In 1996 he was
Writer-in-Residence for the Australia Council at the B. R. Whiting
Library in Rome. In 1999 he won the Blundstone National Essay Contest,
conducted by Island journal. He also won second prize in the Gwen
Harwood Poetry Award that year. In 2000 Kelen’s poetry/art collaboration
(with Carol Archer) Tai Mo Shan/Big Hat Mountain was exhibited at
the Montblanc Gallery in Hong Kong’s Fringe Club. And in 2001 another
collaboration (essay and watercolor) titled Shui Yi Meng/Sleep to
Dream was shown at the Montblanc Gallery. Both exhibitions have been
published as full color catalogues. Kelen’s fourth book of poems,
Republics, dealing with the ethics of identity in millennial
Australia, was published by Five Islands Press in Australia in 2000. A
fifth volume, New Territories, a pilgrimage through Hong Kong
structured after Dante’s Divine Comedy, was published with the aid of
the Hong Kong Arts Development Board in 2003. In 2004 Kelen’s chapbook
Wyoming Suite: North American Sojourn was released by VAC
Publishing in Chicago. In 2005, Kelen’s long poem Macao was
shortlisted for the Newcastle Poetry Prize and a re-edited version of
Tai Mo Shan appeared in Southerly. Kelen’s most recent volume
of poems is Eight Days in Lhasa (VAC, 2006). A new volume of Macao poems Dredging the
Delta is forthcoming from Cinnamon Press in the U.K. Apart from poetry Kelen
publishes in a range of theoretical areas including writing pedagogy,
ethics, rhetoric, cultural and literary studies and various
intersections of these. Kelen is an Associate Professor in the
English Department at the University of Macau, where he has taught Literature
and Creative Writing since 2000. He is
the principal investigator in the University of Macau’s Poems and
Stories of Macao Research Project and the editor of the on—line
journal Writing Macao: creative text and teaching.
