celtic harp
the first raindrops touch
my cheeks
13 February 2004
deep puddle
raindrops scatter the reflection
of the streetlight
20 February 2004
stone fountain
rust stains
in the empty bowl
3 April 2004
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
haiku retrospective cccxxv
wind-rippled trees
i open my mouth wider
for the dentist
9 February 2004
prayer group
eight candle flames flicker
with our breath
10 February 2004
evening stillness
he cups a baby hedgehog
in his hands
10 February 2004
i open my mouth wider
for the dentist
9 February 2004
prayer group
eight candle flames flicker
with our breath
10 February 2004
evening stillness
he cups a baby hedgehog
in his hands
10 February 2004
Monday, February 27, 2012
haiku retrospective cccxxiv
winter party
a few crumbs left
in the brownie pan
15 December 2003
dusk shadows
the murmur of the creek
along the quiet road
21 January 2004
robin song
fresh rainwater
in the weed-choked ditch
21 January 2004
a few crumbs left
in the brownie pan
15 December 2003
dusk shadows
the murmur of the creek
along the quiet road
21 January 2004
robin song
fresh rainwater
in the weed-choked ditch
21 January 2004
Sunday, February 26, 2012
haiku retrospective cccxxiii
bare maple twigs
a stellers jay glides
from tree to tree
5 December 2003
a novel of ideas
the dog-eared pages reveal
cookie crumbs
15 December 2003
silent worship
the sound of her body
hitting the concrete
15 December 2003
a stellers jay glides
from tree to tree
5 December 2003
a novel of ideas
the dog-eared pages reveal
cookie crumbs
15 December 2003
silent worship
the sound of her body
hitting the concrete
15 December 2003
Saturday, February 25, 2012
haiku retrospective cccxxii
bare trees
her distracted voice
long distance
3 December 2003
new grass
the jack-o-lantern grins
from the compost
3 December 2003
new grass
a rat scurries
under the woodpile
5 December 2003
her distracted voice
long distance
3 December 2003
new grass
the jack-o-lantern grins
from the compost
3 December 2003
new grass
a rat scurries
under the woodpile
5 December 2003
Saturday, February 18, 2012
haiku retrospective cccxxi
old fiddle
the first hint of color
in the steeping tea
24 November 2003
forest trail
cigarette smoke
in the parking lot
24 November 2003
blowing leaves
his eyes flick back
to his newspaper
2 December 2003
the first hint of color
in the steeping tea
24 November 2003
forest trail
cigarette smoke
in the parking lot
24 November 2003
blowing leaves
his eyes flick back
to his newspaper
2 December 2003
Friday, February 17, 2012
haiku retrospective cccxx
steaming breath
heaps of gold maple leaves
along the road
21 November 2003
day is done
the crumpled pages
of his call-up letter
24 November 2003
roadside shadows
the sharp ears of the deer at rest
24 November 2003
heaps of gold maple leaves
along the road
21 November 2003
day is done
the crumpled pages
of his call-up letter
24 November 2003
roadside shadows
the sharp ears of the deer at rest
24 November 2003
Thursday, February 16, 2012
haiku retrospective cccxix
simmering stew
trees darken
against the sky
13 November 2003
burning leaves
the ragged ends of her hair brush
her shoulders
13 November 2003
hazy night
the rasp of the leaf rake
on asphalt
21 November 2003
trees darken
against the sky
13 November 2003
burning leaves
the ragged ends of her hair brush
her shoulders
13 November 2003
hazy night
the rasp of the leaf rake
on asphalt
21 November 2003
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
haiku retrospective cccxviii
A lot of people don't get juxtaposition. This doesn't surprise me. Juxtaposition
is not a Western way of looking at the world. We Westerners like to fill in the
links, to explain everything. We don't often give people the elements of the
realization and let them fill in the details for themselves.
Juxtaposition, though, is the power of haiku. It's the thing that makes haiku an art form. A good juxtaposition vibrates with power, and turns the two images into something that is bigger than both of them put together. It's a form of magic.
I wanted an example of juxtaposition, so I plucked two elements from my environment and typed them in:
gold-tinged leaves
the drone of the saw
goes on and on
I noticed the saw first, because it's been droning on and on all morning. Someone is cutting up a down tree for firewood. It's like a giant dental drill, giving the sky a headache.
Outside my window, the leaves of one tree caught my attention. They are just starting to turn, and I wanted to capture that slight tint of gold that hints at the coming autumn color.
Okay, so I put those two images here to demonstrate juxtaposition. It's not an inspired haiku, but it is a finger exercise. I'm working on my juxtaposition muscles.
This haiku, like most of the early haiku, is also in a social context, which is this conversation. Haiku in a social context have another layer of meaning, one that often escapes the notice of haiku critics. I think this layer of meaning can actually make haiku stronger, because the haiku, in addition to being a juxtaposition of two elements of the natural world, can also be a commentary on the social interaction. Early haiku were often a compliment to the host, and other verses might be gently poke fun at someone at a gathering. Not overtly, as in the case of senryu, but through the use of something like analogy.
Now, in this context, I might have wrought more than I intended. I had no social agenda when I plucked haiku elements out of my environment. In this social milieu, however, "the drone of the saw goes on and on" has a certain edge to it. I could be commenting that the same old saws (rules and thoughts) come up again and again. I could be talking about how this discussion drones on and on. Or I could be talking about my own dogged insistence on juxtaposition, juxtaposition, juxtaposition.
Are there other ways in which my juxtaposition works?
The two elements are not causally or obviously related. A common mistake in haiku is to pull together two elements that have a so-what relationship:
spring rain
the robin drinks from a puddle
of snow melt
acid indigestion
he washes back a tums
with his beer
In these two cases, the individual elements are okay, but the pairing is predictable and so the resulting haiku make the reader yawn. Not good, unless the subject of the haiku is tedium.
You also don't want the two elements to be obvious opposites.
blazing sun
he takes another sip
of ice-cold lemonade
This is tedious in a different way.
Even though you don't want the two elements of the juxtaposition to be obviously linked, you want a resonance between the two elements. A strong juxtaposition creates an intense resonance, but doesn't cross the border into obviousness.
This resonance was totally mysterious to me until I read a lot of commentary on Japanese haiku. The resonance comes out of the words of the haiku, the way they set off associations in the brain of the reader. Resonance depends on cultural context, on people having the same sets of associations to given words.
24 October 2003
Juxtaposition, though, is the power of haiku. It's the thing that makes haiku an art form. A good juxtaposition vibrates with power, and turns the two images into something that is bigger than both of them put together. It's a form of magic.
I wanted an example of juxtaposition, so I plucked two elements from my environment and typed them in:
gold-tinged leaves
the drone of the saw
goes on and on
I noticed the saw first, because it's been droning on and on all morning. Someone is cutting up a down tree for firewood. It's like a giant dental drill, giving the sky a headache.
Outside my window, the leaves of one tree caught my attention. They are just starting to turn, and I wanted to capture that slight tint of gold that hints at the coming autumn color.
Okay, so I put those two images here to demonstrate juxtaposition. It's not an inspired haiku, but it is a finger exercise. I'm working on my juxtaposition muscles.
This haiku, like most of the early haiku, is also in a social context, which is this conversation. Haiku in a social context have another layer of meaning, one that often escapes the notice of haiku critics. I think this layer of meaning can actually make haiku stronger, because the haiku, in addition to being a juxtaposition of two elements of the natural world, can also be a commentary on the social interaction. Early haiku were often a compliment to the host, and other verses might be gently poke fun at someone at a gathering. Not overtly, as in the case of senryu, but through the use of something like analogy.
Now, in this context, I might have wrought more than I intended. I had no social agenda when I plucked haiku elements out of my environment. In this social milieu, however, "the drone of the saw goes on and on" has a certain edge to it. I could be commenting that the same old saws (rules and thoughts) come up again and again. I could be talking about how this discussion drones on and on. Or I could be talking about my own dogged insistence on juxtaposition, juxtaposition, juxtaposition.
Are there other ways in which my juxtaposition works?
The two elements are not causally or obviously related. A common mistake in haiku is to pull together two elements that have a so-what relationship:
spring rain
the robin drinks from a puddle
of snow melt
acid indigestion
he washes back a tums
with his beer
In these two cases, the individual elements are okay, but the pairing is predictable and so the resulting haiku make the reader yawn. Not good, unless the subject of the haiku is tedium.
You also don't want the two elements to be obvious opposites.
blazing sun
he takes another sip
of ice-cold lemonade
This is tedious in a different way.
Even though you don't want the two elements of the juxtaposition to be obviously linked, you want a resonance between the two elements. A strong juxtaposition creates an intense resonance, but doesn't cross the border into obviousness.
This resonance was totally mysterious to me until I read a lot of commentary on Japanese haiku. The resonance comes out of the words of the haiku, the way they set off associations in the brain of the reader. Resonance depends on cultural context, on people having the same sets of associations to given words.
24 October 2003
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
haiku retrospective cccxvii
white bean soup
the soft chatter of birds
settling for the night
23 October 2003
haiku chatter
the pine recedes
in the mist
12 November 2003
somber skies
drifts of dead fir needles
on the road
13 November 2003
the soft chatter of birds
settling for the night
23 October 2003
haiku chatter
the pine recedes
in the mist
12 November 2003
somber skies
drifts of dead fir needles
on the road
13 November 2003
Monday, February 13, 2012
haiku retrospective cccxvi
dark cedars
a hawk tilts
through the mist
Port Angeles
Olympic Peninsula
Washington
29 September 2003
midnight walk
fog drips
from the cedars
4 October 2003
abstract images
sometimes a cigar
is only a cigar
23 October 2003
a hawk tilts
through the mist
Port Angeles
Olympic Peninsula
Washington
29 September 2003
midnight walk
fog drips
from the cedars
4 October 2003
abstract images
sometimes a cigar
is only a cigar
23 October 2003
Sunday, February 12, 2012
haiku retrospective cccxv
friendly fire
he sprinkles red sugar
on the cupcakes
13 September 2003
tall grass
an old DeSoto
beyond the old Dodge
14 September 2003
The small boy uses “if you exist” in the place of “if you insist.”
“Let's get you dressed.”
“If you exist.”
wet washcloth
the mama cow licks the chocolate
off the baby cow
14 September 2003
he sprinkles red sugar
on the cupcakes
13 September 2003
tall grass
an old DeSoto
beyond the old Dodge
14 September 2003
The small boy uses “if you exist” in the place of “if you insist.”
“Let's get you dressed.”
“If you exist.”
wet washcloth
the mama cow licks the chocolate
off the baby cow
14 September 2003
Sunday, February 5, 2012
haiku retrospective cccxiv
september 11th --
serving up leftover
devil's food cake
11 September 2003, a day after my son's 8th birthday
september sunshine
the coarseness of his hair
against my lips
11 September 2003
unknown soldier
a fallen comrade carried
by two ants
13 September 2003
serving up leftover
devil's food cake
11 September 2003, a day after my son's 8th birthday
september sunshine
the coarseness of his hair
against my lips
11 September 2003
unknown soldier
a fallen comrade carried
by two ants
13 September 2003
Saturday, February 4, 2012
haiku retrospective cccxiii
grocery parking lot
the drivers' eyes meet
over chocolate
8 September 2003
muggy wind
back-to-school ads
in the gutter
8 September 2003
spent dandelions
a weather-beaten lawn chair
on the bare patch
13 September 2003
the drivers' eyes meet
over chocolate
8 September 2003
muggy wind
back-to-school ads
in the gutter
8 September 2003
spent dandelions
a weather-beaten lawn chair
on the bare patch
13 September 2003
Friday, February 3, 2012
haiku retrospective cccxii
ticking clock
she brushes pastry crumbs
off her nightie
25 August 2003
empty beer bottle
the stale breath
of the waterfall
27 August 2003
shady arbor
how beautiful these bunches
of bitter grapes
31 August 2003
she brushes pastry crumbs
off her nightie
25 August 2003
empty beer bottle
the stale breath
of the waterfall
27 August 2003
shady arbor
how beautiful these bunches
of bitter grapes
31 August 2003
Thursday, February 2, 2012
haiku retrospective cccxi
midnight
the soft hooting
of an owl
14 August 2003
cold tea
the four-year-old finishes
his tantrum
16 August 2003
august wind
the pianist plays one tune
the stereo another
20 August 2003
the soft hooting
of an owl
14 August 2003
cold tea
the four-year-old finishes
his tantrum
16 August 2003
august wind
the pianist plays one tune
the stereo another
20 August 2003
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
haiku retrospective cccx
moonglow
the buck gets all four feet
in the compost bin
12 August 2003
silent worship
the old man's face glows
with love
14 August 2003
violets
the swirling cloth
in the dye vat
14 August 2003
the buck gets all four feet
in the compost bin
12 August 2003
silent worship
the old man's face glows
with love
14 August 2003
violets
the swirling cloth
in the dye vat
14 August 2003
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