|
HAIKU CIRCLE
Introduction for Haiku Circle - June 2, 2007
I’d like to
begin with my gratitude to vincent and Raffael for organizing this special day and providing a chance for us all to commune
with each other.. I’d also like to thank Nate and Rosalind (the Tuft’s) for sharing their lovely place... It is
a great honor to be speaking here today and anything positive I have to offer is very much a reflection of the wonderful bounty
of haiku and spiritual sharing I have received from the community of poets, including so many of you here... I hope in this
reading to give a little something back, though I must admit I’m more comfortable being a listener!
one of my
favorite of vincent’s haiku is:
to hear it
not to hear myself
waterfall
this
wonderfully expresses the credo of all of us in the hold of haiku... we are at best intense and involved listeners! Sometimes
I feel we are like spies going about overhearing songs of birds and insects, the degrees of wind, the depths of silence, or
like detectives we go about looking intently for clues, for the evidence of the very essence of natural changes and contrasts,
we are also like reporters of natural nuances, tuning in to the most amazingly simple and subtle stories that poetically surround
us .It is quite a calling to be a beat reporter on this path less traveled!
I feel we all need haiku more than ever
today- we are perpetually bombarded with way more news and information than is happily bearable, our senses are too often
in gridlock overload mode... haiku is a sane refocus and return to a more decent perspective.
One quality in haiku
that seemed very important to me at the outset was the diminishment of the "self". It appeared to me that most haiku excused
the self or provided a welcome refuge from it
(the self,) .... it also seemed that many of the best haiku actually
served to instantly transcend any feeling of the self:
As we all know the self is hard to shake and there
are many days that I wake up to a rather tired recognition that I’ve still got my self to negotiate, manage, and suppress
from driving my every instinct and motivation... early in my haiku-senryu writing life I penned this three word truth:
myself
monopolizes
me
This is my take on the "self" and the way in which it can take over our entire being for better
or worse-
Thankfully haiku is a precious refuge from this self and is a happy medium of exchange with others who I
assume, are each in their own way struggling through the near endless provinces of the self...I’ve often mused that
I am not fully comfortable with being a human being... at times I wonder if in a previous life I was a slug or a sloth, or
maybe a turtle or a toad! much of the human experience feels esoteric and perhaps it is the double edged sword of consciousness
and thinking that causes me to seek experiences that reduce or eliminate too much thought and the center mainstreams of human
activity. As much as I enjoy the range of human contacts, I have learned that unless I get a fair amount of time alone I tend
toward being something less than at peace with myself. I love routines and am typically content with repetition that would
seriously challenge most people. These qualities have sustained my delight with haiku and contributed to a sense that my whole
life was lea! ding and preparing me to discover haiku!
My own haiku beginning was a life-time ago- my son Casey’s
lifetime is my measure, since I began around the time he was born in 1988....when I read an article in a Ithaca free paper
about Ruth Yarrow that contained several examples of her haiku I was enchanted... it was like an instant recognition, that
haiku was exactly the antidote (I needed) for all that was unsettled, excessive and troubled in me and the world. I saw and
continue to this day to feel haiku is the near perfect if not perfect voice of our being witness...
From the start
I felt haiku had the potential to nourish spiritual and psychological well being. As a form of celebrating, honoring and tuning,
as an antidote to our human tendency for excess, haiku was to me both the answer to a prayer and the prayer itself. From the
article one haiku that has stuck with me as a top favorite:
after the garden party the garden - Ruth Yarrow
To
me this haiku is a touchstone that can be read instructively to reveal all we might see in a garden once the gathering of
people has dispersed. On a larger scale this six word poem evokes a telling sense of humanity in the throes of an extended
party, using too much of the earth’s resources in ways that are detrimental to many other inhabitants of the earth-
yet in an inevitable sense after this "party" is over the earth, no doubt, will remain and will heal itself. Time = Change
& Change is our destiny ...
On the heels of reading that article about Ruth I went out and purchased
Cor’s Haiku Anthology and went to library to check out what I could find HAIKU! To this day the collector in me has
enjoyed collecting haiku books, periodicals and creating a haiku library of sorts. The eclectic examples in Cor’s anthology
made an indelible impression on me and I was both fascinated and excited by the haiku and wonders about the lives of the poets
who wrote those little masterpieces. It was an amazing pleasure to little by little meet in correspondence or in person many
of the poets in that treasured anthology and in the various journals I subscribed to at that
time.
At this
time I remember my admiration and curiosity about the people involved in haiku made me feel there was some type of magic or
chemistry in their lives that I especially hoped to discover...
It became obvious to me that to be part
of the haiku community or tribe required a steady practice
of reading and trying to write haiku. The process of submitting
haiku was invaluable in gaining feedback insight to what worked and what was meaningful to others...As a member of the Rt.
9 Haiku Group for the past four years it is necessary to present about 16 hopefully worthy haiku each month which is many
months more than my output... but in the earliest years of my writing practice I totally enjoyed sending poems out and getting
in the regular mail my SAE back with the results. There was suspense and excitement to see what others appreciated:
Canadian
writer-novelist Ann Michaels in a preface to her book, Fugitive Pieces, wrote:
" I see that I must give
what I most need" - Ann Michaels
this applies perfectly for the "why" haiku for me! In gratitude for all that has been
given, here is a selection of some of my haiku:
our turn
to stand here-
falls overlook
spring
sun-
high in his arms
the newborn is shown
early morning fog-
in the cereal bowl
the
spoon clinks
taking me back...
water laps gently
at the shore
keeping
quiet
the day’s last light
on new grass
old friend’s talk-
each holding
car
keys
cold front-
the forgotten dulcimer
pings
daybreak-
the
spider centered
in its web
the day lilies-
some have crossed
the road
watering
their plants
seeing their house
without them
class in the forest
they all look up
to
the trees
despite
the development
deer path
drought-
ants disappearing
into
cracked earth
lunch alone
without a book
I read my mind
At work I have three desk
calendar’s out for the public: a Little Zen, a Wisdom of the East and
a Farside... I love the levity, sage solace
and insight they offer to start the day... here is a recent offering from Shri Parthasarathi:
"Nature is forever giving
us chance after chance at what we call rebirth and death, and we, in our folly, in our fear of death, fail to understand that
which represents a new journey, a new page on which to write, and thus to believe in a new beginning for ourselves"
downpour-
a
duck waddles away
from the pond
my arm snagged-
a good look at
the wild rose
sidewalk
sale-
wind twists a lifetime
guarantee tag
late day sun-
deep on the forest floor
a
seedling
sometimes being human feels like being a seedling under a huge canopy of forces we cannot control; as Mahatme
Gandhi said: " everything we do is futile, but we must do it anyway"
all the voices
songs, waiting
in
the broken radio
alone in the waiting room
checking the plant
for reality
walking
the tracks
my thoughts
go nowhere
fall colors
in the lake-
one thought after
another
I am bewildered at the flow of thoughts I have on any given day... they stream along unbidden from moment to
moment, the marvel and malaise of human consciousness and the vast majority of thoughts I have amount to nothing more than
some collective range of habits I’ve accumulated and attached to over many years... Thank goodness for haiku! the practice
and discipline of haiku is very much about waking up to the world and seeing it fresh as if it was all new again...which it
is! vincent in the front piece of his book; between God and the Pine points out
"they know most about beginning who
help the rest of us begin"
left and right
he follows the way
of his kicked stone
breeding
pairs
at the zoo-
with strollers
hunting four leaf clovers
students discuss
their
childhoods
in the garden
right by St. Francis
the woodchuck hole
where
I sit
on my usual bench
remains of a nut
potluck luncheon-
a yellow jacket cleans
its
antennae
autumn moonlight
folded in
the clothes on the floor
daybreak-
from
the bread truck’s roof
frost swirls
winter wind
the voice of one tree
after
another
picture window
in all that white
a cardinal
overwintering
in
the hay wagon
scarecrow
undefended:
in the cold rain
their snow fort
"Our
poetry now is a realization that we possess nothing. Anything therefore is a delight, since we do not possess it and thus
not fear its loss" - John Cage
perhaps my favorite haiku of all, which expresses this so beautifully, by Ryokan:
the
thief left it behind
the moon
at the window
rarely do I act in concert with this spirit,
but every now and then...
beach walking...
collecting pebbles
and letting them go
spring
frost-
the park canon aimed
at the church
spring
removing the neighbors
from
view
spring wind-
the kid in the neighborhood
has a new whistle
going
the same way-
exchanging looks with the driver
of the hearse
having brushed off
several
small ants
an extra large one...
dandelions-
I give someone
easy directions
blue
sky-
nothing constructive
to offer
where I sit
on my usual bench
remains
of a nut
afternoon sun
a chef naps
at one of the tables
the way
the
light bulb rests
in the rest of the trash
the mourning dove
lowers itself
to
take off...
I hesitate slightly to read the next haiku, my wife said: N-O, absolutely not! She has been
an invaluable critic over the years and often improved my little poems but it is a mixed blessing having your best critic
living at home... to me this haiku touches on what can be seen when not caught up in the 10,000 things we get caught up in.
urinating...
the
delicate breeze
among the ferns
on the trail again
walking deeper
into
myself
Sunday morning-
a brook sparkles
out of the hills
high clouds
one
horse leans its head
against another
in a hollow
at the base of the trunk
a seedling
mountaintop:
giving
back
each breath
one tree
one bird, one song
the dusk
Each
of these haiku is for me "a find"... a moment in which something that is given is received our world, our life, our path is
abundant with things to find... Annie Dillard, the author of Pilgrim at Tinker Creek wrote:
"If you Cultivate a healthy
poverty and simplicity, so that finding a penny will literally make your day, then, since the world is in fact planted with
pennies, you have with your poverty brought a lifetime of days. Its that simple. What you see is what you get."
When
I got married in 1987 and then became a parent just a year later I considered it all as a dramatic new chapter in my life.
I embraced the significant changes and even felt that this was the beginning of an adventure, albeit one very different from
the adventures I had been accustomed to; bicycling trips, canoeing, freight hopping and living a life of rather endless self
indulgence!. I honestly thought I was prepared for married life and parenthood- I guess most people feel or think this and
like most people I’ve had my share or worries, wonders and downright despairing times, recoiling from the maddening
relentlessness of family life- too often I’ve longed for a vacation from my family when the reality is I’m supposed
to feel as if I want to be with them always! Family life requires degrees of selflessness, sacrifice and servitude that exceed
my natural inclination to those callings... I’ve certainly struggled with parenting and married life but stuck with
it for bet! ter and worse. To add some variety to my presentation I am going to share some of my family related writing, mostly
senryu. Writing about the trials and tribulations of domestic life has been a very important management technique. The writing
and sharing of these troubles or realities of home life have been entirely cathartic, therapeutic and simply honest. I hope
these are not too jarring a contrast to the other poems I am presenting.
wanting my old life
when I wanted
my
present life
Before getting married a favorite passage of mine from Rilke’s , On Love and Other
Difficulties,
( I might have guessed that love was difficult!)is one in which he suggests that the greatest gift one
person can give to another is to protect their solitude. I read this passage to my wife early on in our relationship, sort
of testing how she felt about such an admirable sentiment. Her less than enthusiastic response should have alerted me that
perhaps she had other ideas about what was
admirable and that protecting my solitude or desiring me to do the same
for her was not high in her priorities. When our son was born I saw what little chance I had for solitude pretty much evaporate
but thankfully this was when I discovered haiku, senryu and tanka, tools I would need to make it through this rough terrain!
daybreak-
the
rubber duck alone
in the empty tub
this quiet morning
even the bar of soap
falls
apart
morning zazen:
marriage counseling
ourselves
the
hypnotist
describes her technique
sound of the stream
playing a child’s game
I
learn all
his rules
for my son:
lifting a stone
to see
my
son asks
how far it goes
... space
the door open
to the meditation room
no
one there
my cat comes up close
then shies away
alcohol on my breath
my
child asks
what keeps the moon up?
you do, I reply
looking busy
as my wife
pulls
in
in her sleep
she steals back
her hand
Halloween-
to
a simple question
my life story
on the wall
Jesus on the cross
above her side of
the bed
boardwalk-
we go to one end
then the other
so much we have...
yet
between us too
an emptiness
night train-
part of myself reflected
in
thought
home from work...
the little one brings me
an empty wine bottle
long
grocery line
the modest excitement
of my thoughts
another full moon
my
checkbook
still unbalanced
to start the day
her slipper sounds
too fast
my
mistakes-
no matter how many
coats of paint
after speaking importantly
she quickly
resumes
sucking her thumb
all through
his temper tantrum
her calm
without
consent
my old sneakers
in the trash
my wife asks
if she should feel
sorry for me
"I’ve got it covered"
to the cat:
"that’s
complete and
utter nonsense
we bicker
all through the house
... cleaning
my
wife admits
she is not perfect
but is glad I am
now that I’m over
my bad mood
she’s
in one
moments into
my music
the vacuum cleaner
she’s waited
up...
to have some last words
with me
while brushing my teeth
she
tells me again:
"lets move"
up in the dark
the toilet
overflows
done-
the
repairman tells me
any fool can do it
before sleep
laughing to myself
at myself
on
hold...
branches in the window
wave wildly
she wanders away...
her
snail disembarks
the matchbox truck
peepers
my daughter whispers
something
she knows
our child
who will not go to sleep-
sheep on her pajamas
after
the pleasant part
of our walk
we hurry
behind the wheel-
yet another of his
personalities
police
car-
my thoughts of what I’ve done
wrong
dinner time-
each night
a
fallen hero
lunar eclipse-
back inside something I did
or didn’t do
autumn
nightfall
dropping my son off
for something else
before bed
my son’s music
louder
than mine
snowfall
my daughter asks where
we
are going...
mid day
my son’s bear hug
still with me
snowy
roads
the reason for going
quite slippery
reading into it
as much
as I can
my life
after the party
undressing
myself
on the bench
a
young couple carries on
as if I’m not there
summer-
seeing more
of her
lingering
in bed...
the ceiling has no
answers
just in case
weighing myself
after
the shower
I’m back home-
another reason for the cat
to yawn
in
the empty room
two quiet types
father and son
in the dark
through
the window light
my wife and child
from room to room
on the Clue board
a tiny spider
so
many things
I need to do
alone
evening star...
she sleeps with the lion’s
tail
in her little hand
my son of age
he now calls me
a buffoon
quickly
after
the artery scan
a Danish
dining room
next to my wife’s chair
her
dog at attention
Discovery channel-
an older male vanquished
heads for the
hills
my wife gives orders...
our daughter whispers to me
"bad mood"
when
she’s not looking
I switch
forks
April Fools Day-
another year
too
true to myself
passed down
from my parents
dust pan and brush
outside
the glass door
our old cat has forgotten
it wanted "in"
Ann
Michaels wrote:
"It’s not a persons depth you must discover, but their ascent. Find their path from depth to
ascent"
I would like to conclude my reading today with "being there", the chapbook collection that vincent
and ed created which so beautifully presents a set of my haiku that allow me to hear and see that which is sustaining and
beyond the merely personal, that which is universal. A little story about "being there": At Cornell, a professor in the Fine
Arts Department made a sculpture of books authored by people at Cornell... it was first installed in NYC and then re-installed
at Cornell. The sculpure was a large "C" with the top of the "C" having the highest stack of books and coming down the "C"
there was a descending pile of less and less books until at the lowest far end of the "C" there was one little book, all alone:
"being there" Thank you Ed and vincent for creating a book that perfectly fit on the Cornell "C"!
crickets...
my
eyes closed
to the day
long wait alone
in the parking lot...
a dog in the next
car
morning fog...
a mash of wild apples
on the road
alongside the
river
the freight train begins
to move
farm country back road:
just like them, I
lift one finger
from the steering wheel
cross country runner
no one ahead
or behind
small
town-
an old man and a young man
wave at the train
the farmer-
with a lot to say
his
dog
summer stars-
the connection of my eye
to the brightest
turning
off the music
a few miles before
getting there
under my breath
Oh boy! sitting
down
under the old- growths
being there-
in the woods
a tree falls
the
Zen books
now
on the shelf
cabin window-
the plant has gone
everywhere it
can
log bridge-
going to the end
then returning
woodland brook...
the
indistinguishable spring
of voices
summit view-
stand
where she stood
letting
her
walk all over me
ladybug
mountaintop:
I am, so
I am
on
the way home
more geese
on the way home
|
