I went there in my youth to train my body In martial arts at Hanshi’s dojo, hidden From sight unless you knew the way to look Down Lerchenfelder Straße, deep within The building, fairly small and somewhat humble; A room or two and a little courtyard lawn Where Isao and Nobuo led their students In kata, stretching, partner training, talk Of bodhisattvas, angels, astral travel, The auras and the energies of light Emitted from the punches and the kicks, The blocks and throws and self-defensive tricks— Vienna’s sleeves so full of vintage tricks. And then I went to college for its body Of knowledge, reading other books for kicks When I was shirking my assignments, hidden In Penrose’ winding stacks, tracing light, Enrolled in German, hoping for a look Abroad, a stint of study and of travel, To be among the bells again within The churches and the sounds of foreign talk. I thought the plan was set but then the humble Occasions of money trouble faced by students Afflicted me as I crossed the college lawn. My year abroad was spent mowing the lawn And working swing-shift jobs and turning tricks Like buying motorcycles and selling them to students Or taking them for rides: the student body Adores that sort of thing and I was humble Enough to start their motors with my kicks. Vienna faded in my mumbled talk Drowned out by conversations hidden Between the pages of the books within My basement bedroom, its dim light Still burning paths away that I might travel If only I could open up my eyes to look. For forty years I didn’t think to look Towards Vienna, I just mowed the lawn Again and shelved that thought’s forgotten travel, Instead pursuing other travel tricks And breaking things I couldn’t fix, like light Bulbs and marriages, graduate students’ Neurotic obfuscations blanked within Opinionated ghost without a body, Confirmation in the church of hidden Unbroken lineages of strange and humble Monastic silence cluttered up with talk Of parenting and children, playground kicks Resulting in the goads against which kicks One’s soul so as to take a second look. Vienna fell back into view with talk Of taking the March break on Schönbrunn’s lawn, To follow on the heels of Paris, humble Vienna’s Wienerschnitzel and Schnapps, to travel There and to converge in Mozart’s hidden Kaleidoscope of operatic tricks; To feel, after separation, meine Liebhaberin’s body And wake in jet-lag stupor late in light Relying on the coffee’s fix within My brain to wake me up like students Astride their Lipizzaner stallions, students Who have to stay alert, avoiding kicks When walking through the horses’ stables within The Hofburg palace where onlookers look At cutlery and dishes glinting light Behind the glass in corridors of talk. The average tourist with aching body, Constricting muscles for hours, locates a lawn And there reclines—and other travelers’ tricks, Like finding an off-the-beaten-track and humble Taverne with some Bier und Brot hidden Away on a side street off the road more travel. And back in time like Freud the travelers travel To see a monument defaced by students Of history: Lueger’s Schande no longer hidden, Graffiti-painted metaphoric kicks To the antisemite’s groin (despite the humble Ignaz Mandl’s mentorship within The district where handsome Karl learned the tricks Of local politics). They liked his look, The ladies did, and watched him on the lawn Or in the ballroom filled with crystal light Waltzing like a man with godlike body, Infusing Jewish Questions in his talk. The mayor inspired Hitler with his talk— Who lived there at the time but would travel To Germany and there assemble a body Of zealous psychopaths and brainwashed students— Resulting in the murder of the light By Nazis and by “countless Austrians” hidden Behind respectable statues on the lawn Where deportation, theft, and torturers’ kicks Have now become a wall of names to look Up loved ones lost in the Shoah, humble Children, women, and men whose lives by tricks Of evil vanished, darkness growing within. Vienna has that ugly stain within And no amount of optimistic talk Erases blood, no clever magic tricks Can make it disappear, but we can travel Around the giant ferris wheel’s humble, Slow, circuitous transit and feel our body Recover from those times and sneak a look. We all can learn to be like woken students, Or like a football player when she kicks A ball at seemingly the speed of light Across a cosmic democratic lawn To where the truth has always been hidden. A side street where Shakespeare & Company is hidden— Not equal to the Paris one, but within Are ladders and books to the ceiling; outside, no lawn, Just pavement and stairs descending like the talk Germanic tongues produce describing light, The way the light and shadows can play tricks On bloodshot eyes when everyone who kicks Some habit, like the constant urge to travel, Begins to settle down like a room full of students In the Albertina studying the ardent humble Chagall perhaps or finding something to look At like Hoffer’s Girl with Record, her body Revealed in part and not unlike the body Of some neo-classical subject hidden Behind a modern vinyl record. Look At how the war has worn her down within. Outside, the weather is typical of March—humble Pigeons perch in bunches above the lawn Surrounding a monument to Goethe, students From a kindergarten laugh and talk, It’s warm when the sun shines but when clouds travel Over and breezes blow, inadequate light And cold air unite, the wind chill kicks Its heels up till the sun does one of its tricks, Revealing itself above medieval tricks Of massive engineering like the body Of Stephansdom laid out with a boot that kicks The sky, the south tower rarely hidden From view when wandering in and out of light And shadow, rounding curving streets to look At wonders of history brought forward by time travel, Stumbling on Beethoven, Strauss, and Mozart within The music of a polyphony of talk Pervading the rustling almost springtime humble Return of birdsong and buds and tired students On break from their exams, resting on a lawn. My aging body feels the future hidden When I look down Lerchenfelder Straße and within My past, my humble tries and unmowed lawn, Recalling fellow students’ cheerful talk About Klimt’s kiss and how to travel light, How love and time are full of kicks and tricks.
References (in order of appearance)
Isao Ichikawa: https://okinawankaratelineage.com/Ichikawa.htm
Penrose Library: https://library.whitman.edu/about_the_library/
Schönbrunn: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Schönbrunn_Palace
Lipizzaner Stallions: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lipizzan
Hofburg Palace: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hofburg
Karl Lueger: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Karl_Lueger
Ignaz Mandl: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Karl_Lueger#Life_and_early_career
Shoah Wall of Names: https://www.nationalfonds.org/shoah-wall-of-names-memorial
Giant Ferris Wheel (Riesenrad): https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wiener_Riesenrad
Shakespeare & Company: https://www.shakespeare.co.at/en/welcome
Albertina: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Albertina
Marc Chagall: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Marc_Chagall
Karl Hoffer: http://silverseastories.com/stories-2/
Stefansdom: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/St._Stephen%27s_Cathedral,_Vienna
Gustav Klimt: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Kiss_(Klimt)
I appreciate your ambition and the skill with which you pursue it.
What an amazing walk through time and place. Astonishing the details you recall when time gifts you the recollection while its vivid beauty shines and runs in you as bright as when you walked there first.