After A Heavy Snow

                                                     By Parker Po-Fei Huang

                                                        A bank of whiteness


                                                           Is all I see. Have I

                                                       tossed away the world

                                                         or the world me? Or

                                                           is it just a single

                                                      moment that I stand on

                                                          a sheer precipice

                                                        with clouds passing

                                                               through me?

                                                      Some mists sweep the

                                                       sky. Some stars elicit

                                                         serenity. I feel that

                                                         I am gathering the

                                                      reflections of a flower

                                                     in the water and that of

                                                     the moon in the mirror—

                                                       no scent, no motion,

                                                        yet I sense eternity.

                                                       I stop breathing lest

                                                       I wake myself. From

                                                      where, of what world,

                                                       have I come here? I

                                                      turn my head and see

                                                     there are only footprints

                                                             that follow me.

Saturday, January 12, 2008

Charles Sheehan Memories

I knew him as both intstructor and colleague at Yale. Both experiences were great.

Parker was a regular contributor to the Sunday Times poetry section. He was also in my circle of friends in New Haven back in the 60s that included Walter Tevis (The Hustler and The Man who Fell to Earth), Mike O'Malley (Small Town Blues and Every Day By Storm), and a number of poets and artists who were there at the time.

Parker was both friend and teacher to me and I am sad to hear of his passing.

I guess we are all at that stage in life that reminds us of our own mortality, but it also reminds us of those who have touched our lives in positive ways, subtle ways, that have given us direction and guidance down paths we would have otherwised missed along the journey.

Charles Chick Sheehan
USAF 1955-1956
IFEL Staff 1961-1963

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