My smile gets bigger as I present to you Rick Wilson, mathematician, musician, collector and player of historical flutes, artist, and yes, poet. Rick was my best friend for years before we were married six years ago, and it is a fantastic creative relationship. It's natural to introduce him here, as he's been right there reading, critiquing, encouraging and supporting my poetry, as well as commenting on and considering poetry by all of my favorite poets as well. He's a Professor of Mathematics, (Combinatorics) at Caltech, and he's invited to speak at conferences world-wide. So he's brought me along on trips to Japan, China, South Korea, Iran, and throughout the U.S. thereby broadening my horizons and greatly influencing the scope of my writing. You can visit his historical flute pages to see his collection and fascinating discussions on the history of the flute, from renaissance through the 19th century. He gives lecture-demonstrations at coleges and musical societies, upcoming is a presentation for the Southern California Early Music Society on January 13 and here is the program. Rick and I wrote a haiku exchange together, which documents the beginning of our romantic relationship, which I will present here.MISTER MOON KNOWS IT ALL
Mister Moon guided me home.
Raspberry juice on my shirt.
How are things with you?
--Rick
Mister Moon rushed back - over our house now.
I finished your glass of cold tea.
Gophers are pulling things down by the roots.
--Kath
He exceeds the speed limit - (Mister Moon).
I will send you a haiku someday...
But I need more time.
--Rick
Your swift words rise with Mister Moon,
Hot sesame oil over popping corn.
Frogs are loud in the creek bed tonight.
--Kath
You are too fast for me.
I need more time.
I suppose you will think *this* is a haiku.
I have been thinking,
yet so far I have but one line:
It is too hot here.
--Rick
Fishing from shore,
A short line drops into cool water -
Catches a haiku.
Thoughts at low tide
lured by the moon -
Early again at our front door?
--Kath
Here working,
Too tired to talk-
but sure there is a haiku here somewhere.
--Rick
No haiku tonight.
Too tired, too full.
This is not a haiku.
--Rick
Brilliant unconscious night.
Masterwork of denial.
Too funny.
--Kath
Did we miss the moon?
We smiled and ate a ripe peach-
Sliced in thin crescents.
At work on the moon?
Cashews curve like a question.
I'll watch the night sky.
--Kath
This is an attempt
At seventeen syllables.
Form can be helpful.
The same shape appears:
Peach slices, cashews, the moon.
Damn refrigerator.
--Rick
Left behind: a shirt;
pistachios, peas, almonds.
System error 10.
--Rick
Shirt: could get worn out.
Nuts and peas: could be all gone.
It is not my fault.
--Kath
80s at the beach;
100 in the valleys.
Hot, hot, hot, hot, hot.
--Rick
375
Here the cool night air is sweet.
Have you seen the moon?
--Kath
Off into the night
Two flutes play in unison.
Their first note is tongued.
--Kath
Mister Moon is full!
So am I; I had sushi
and the salad bar.
--Rick
Fed by Mister Moon
My mouth full of your kisses,
I can only smile.
--Kath
Watching the moon rise
Counting in fives and sevens.
I eat a ripe peach.
--Kath
Cabagges and kings,
Shoes, ships, sealing wax. Oysters!
Talk of many things.
--Rick
The beach yesterday.
But no oysters could be seen...
They ate all of them.
--Rick
Reading your sweet words.
My mouth opens like oysters-
I blush and taste them all.
--Kath
Driving home last night.
Oh, Kath, Kath, Kath,
I heard myself say.
--Rick
I saw Mr. Moon!
A sweet smile all afternoon.
He knows about us.
--Kath
I was wondering:
Will the moon keep our secret?
(I hope he tells all.)
--Rick
