from โMount Fujiโ
A draughtsmanโs draughtsman, Hokusai at 70
thought heโd begun to grasp the structures
of birds and beasts, insects and fish, of the way
plants grow, hoped that by 90 heโd have
penetrated to their essential nature.
And more, by 100, I will have reached the stage
where every dot, every mark I make will be
alive. You always loved that resolve, youโd repeat
joyfullyโHokusaiโs utterance of faith
in workโs possibilities, its reward, that,
at 130, heโd perhaps have learned to draw.
Gail Mazurโs poems in Forbidden City build an engaging meditative structure upon the elements of mortality and art, eloquently contemplating the relationship of art and lifeโand the dynamic possibilities of each in combination. At the collectionโs heart is the poetโs long marriage to the artist Michael Mazur (1935โ2009). A fascinating range of tone infuses the bookโgrieving, but clear-eyed rather than lugubrious, sometimes whimsical, even comical, and often exuberant. The note of pleasure, as in an old tradition enriched by transience, runs through the work, even in the final poem, โGrief,โ where โour ravenous hold on the worldโ is a powerful central element.