'in a bar near shibuya,tokyo'
poem by paul engle
received a BA from Coe College and
a MA -- one of the first in the country
to include a creative writing thesis --
from the University of Iowa. His thesis
won the Yale Series of Younger Poets
award and was published as the poetry
collection Worn Earth (1932). Engle
began his doctoral work at Columbia
University, and then received a Rhodes
Scholarship, allowing him to study at
Oxford University with the poet Edmund
Blunden while earning his second MA.
...
In 1967, with his wife, Chinese poet
Hualing Nieh Engle, he co-founded
the International Writing Program at the
University of Iowa. Engle and his wife
were nominated for a Nobel Peace Prize
in 1976 for their work supporting
international writers.
...
His memoir, A Lucky American Childhood,
was published posthumously in 1996.
Engle edited numerous anthologies,
including the Ozark Anthology (1938),
Reading Modern Poetry (1955, with
Warren Carrier), and Poet's Choice (1962),
with Joseph Langland). He was the series
editor for the O.Henry Prize from 1954- 1959.
Engle died in 1991, at Chicago's O'Hare Airport,
on his way to accept an award.
IN A BAR NEAR SHIBUYA STATION, TOKYO
poem by Paul Engle
The Japanese next to me at the bar
bites at his sake with big irregular teeth.
Behind the heavy glasses (which he wears
like an elegant suit of clothes) his eyes
are yellow as the warm wine he is drinking.
He turns like a door opening and says
with an aggressive softness, 'USA?'
I nod, waiting to see the color of his mind.
'I was wounded at Okinawa.'
The words drop reluctantly from his mouth
like drops of wine from the bottom of the bottle.
I set my weight on the soles of my feet
and keep a careful eye on his hands.
he pulls up his sleeves. The scar cries out
along his arm like an exclamation mark.
What words do you speak to accusing wound?
He looks at the scar as a man looks at a bug
crawling his sin, with interest and loathing,
wishing that it would simply go away.
'I'm sorry', I say. The words in their silly weakness
vibrate in the vivid lamplight of the bar
before they fall to the floor with a shamed rustle.
He clenches an unclenches his fit. The scar ripples.
I lift my hands. I am ready, like a new kid
uneasy on a school ground the first day.
'American doctor ix my arm good', he says
And then his face collapses in to a smile.
He not fix good, pick up sake now.'
He lifts the blue-gazed, lovely curving up
and gestures gently towards me. Shyly his eyes
move over mine like a friendly hand. We drink.
He puts the cup down carefully on the bar
with a brave lightness,as it were a bomb
waiting to go off and blast his hand.
His face the cup down carefully on the bar
with a brave lightness, as if it were a bomb
waiting to go to off and blast his hand.
His face goes back to being merely a face.
Outside, Tokyo growls like a hunting tiger.
Paul Engle
http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems-and-poets/poets/detail/paul-engle
Poet' s Choice
Edited by Paul Engle & Joseph Langland
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In Memorandum
PAUL ENGLE
Blog Virgil Gheorghiu ( 26 April 2020)
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