Jul
1st Sailing
Posted by
Sails is a section of troutswirl that is devoted to presenting questions for discussion and debate on the nature and possibilities of haiku. Sails will be overseen by Peter Yovu. For an introduction to this section, see Sails.
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….
1st Sailing
by Peter Yovu
Why do you read haiku?
In interviews, writers are often asked: “Why do you write”? I don’t think I’ve ever come across the question: “Why do you read”? For us, the question is: “Why do you read haiku”? If you are a writer, do you bring a poet’s sensibility to reading, or something different? If you are that rare person who does not write but only reads haiku, please tell us what your experience is. If anyone wishes to tell the story of their first encounter with haiku, please do. What effect does it have upon you? What would you tell others to encourage them to read haiku (or perhaps you could change the question slightly and say how you like to read—while listening, for example, to Debussy, or to Led Zeppelin)? There are of course many questions within the question presented, and that will likely always be the case. And by the way, in a few weeks a new “sail” will be hoisted, but that does not mean this subject will be closed. In time, I hope, there will be an accumulation of many questions and many responses which may be visited and revisited at any time. Okay then, I look forward to what you have to say. I’ll drop a line or two myself at some point.
≈
- Bookmark :
- Digg
- del.icio.us
- Stumbleupon
- Redit it
I’m glad Billie brought up the truth that haiku has “more than one meaning” if haiku has “meaning” at all? I’ve often enjoyed coming back to haiku and seeing a whole new revelation or experience or haiku moment. As my own situations grows and changes it give a perpetually new perspective. It’s one of the pleasures I find in haiku.
This exchange kinda got lost over in the Intro to Sails posting:
July 9, 2009
Claire Richardot: I too read haiku, much more than my poor writing. All I can say now is sometimes I see one that gives me a good swift kick in the senses. You know the old film “Un Chien Andalou” of Bunuel? You know the famous eye scene? I’m thinking about that.
Scott Metz: This?: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lvy7idBaieQ
CR: Yes. Ouch.
Allan Burns pretty much answered this for me, but that won’t stop me from adding a few more words.
I read haiku as a morning meditation for an hour each day. It centers me, inspires me, and opens my world to let in the world as seen through each poet’s eyes.
I also read haiku to learn how to read haiku. Many an essayist has noted–and I’ve learned for myself–that properly reading haiku is possibly as important a skill as writing it.
In my early days after discovering the worldwide haiku community, I didn’t bother to read the journals to which I submitted my first poems. When my mailbox filled with rejections slips, I determined to learn why all these fine poems didn’t make the cut. So I actually subscribed to some of the journals and began my studies.
Early on, I rejected most of what I read because I was reading too shallowly. I knew nothing about juxtaposition, resonance, kigo, or anything else. I’d simply written a bunch of three-line poems that seemed to be haiku, and the stuff that was being published didn’t bear any resemblance to my work at all. I struggled to find the differences. This led to ordering the first books of what was to become a haiku library so extensive, my husband is certain the ceiling above his favorite chair is going to come down upon him.
Last August, I sat in Carolyn Hall’s garden discussing haiku with John Stevenson. He was telling me about being present when Nick Virgilio’s famous “lily” haiku was read by one person and interpreted in sign language by another. He mentioned how enlightening this was, and I foolishly asked, “Well, isn’t there only one meaning?” Oh my, oh my, how much I still have to learn!
So I continue to read haiku with an ever-growing appreciation of how much more there might be to discover in each one.
some more bear ku:
How soft is the nap
of a female bear’s skin
when a male’s is near.
-Yamaguchi Seishi (Essence of Modern Haiku, 15)
Nurtured in a cage,
a bear cub licking away
at his iron chain.
-Yamaguchi Seishi (E of MH, 231)
mountains and rivers …
the gaping mouth
of a just-born bear
-Sabine Miller (Roadrunner VII:4, Nov. ‘07)
Millionaires,
Come and drink of this clear water,
And bears.
-Masaoka Shiki (Blyth, Haiku 3, 93)
bear needs no second look at me
-Jim Kacian (Path Made by Bears, Towpath Anthology 2005)
green bear
in the junky vacant lot
cast iron stomach
-Kaneko Tôta (Higginson, Haiku Handbook [1985], 41)
green bear
the chapel’s morning
pounding pounding
-Kaneko Tôta (Higginson, Haiku Handbook [1985], 41)
“Our first tangible evidence of mythological thinking are from the period of Neanderthal Man (ca. 250,000 – ca. 50, 000 BC); and these comprise, first, burials with food supplies, grave gear, tools, sacrificed animals, and the like; and second, a number of chapels in high-mountain caves, where cave-bear skulls, ceremonially disposed in symbolic settings, have been preserved. . . . . Particularly instructive . . . is the instance of bear cult of the Ainu of Japan (Hokkaido) . . . [who] have the sensible idea that this world is more attractive than the next, and that godly beings residing in that other, consequently, are inclined to come pay us visits. They arrive n the shapes of animals [bear]. . . . But in any case, we can surely say . . . that the bear is . . . a venerated beast, that his powers survive death and are effective in the preserved skull, that rituals serve to link those powers to the aims of the human community, and that the power of fire is in some manner associated with the rites” (Joseph Campbell, Myths To Live By, 31-35).
How ’bout some bear haiku?
den of the bear
beyond the great rocks
storm clouds
(John Wills)
looking at the air
where the bear passed
last night
(Paul O. Williams)
a black bear
noses muscadines
slow summer stream
(Peggy Willis Lyles)
traffic wind
in the black-eyed Susans
a dead bear
(Paul MacNeil)
snow patches
the bones of bears
in this dirt
(paul m.)
after the bear–
the silence of
broken spider webs
(Jack Barry)
blackberry brier
an old boundary post
clawed by bears
(Allan Burns)
One thing striking about this group is the indirection. The bears are never confronted directly. In all but one the bear isn’t even present, only inferred from a sign or remembered or found dead. And in the one exception there’s a strong pastoral feeling, no sense of threat. I think this speaks to the indirect method typical of haiku. Something as large and menacing as a bear isn’t easy, somehow, to squeeze into such a little poem; it’s in the suggestion of a bear’s presence–a bear that has passed by or left its mark, and thus may still be lurking nearby–that a haiku seems more likely to be found.
I realize this has gone tangential! But please feel free to add any other bear haiku to this little collection. Would be interesting to see whether they conform to these sketchy ideas or not.
Dan, can you say a little more about how haiku “changes your mind… opens [you] to where intuition goes”? What you say is perfectly clear, I just think it deserves more space if you care to jump further in.
Sail 1. Another great bear poem. And Geez Roberta, I wonder where this would be going if your name were Leopardi? Might have to save that question for a rainy day– sure to be controversial.
http://staff.psc.edu/schneide/Kinnell-TheBear.html
Haiku changes my mind. It removes me from an outcome and production world, and opens me to where intuition goes. Good ones leave a grin. Great ones make me get out the pencil. I read them at day’s end to process the blur.
Thanks for this effort, all of you who made this site possible.
wow:
“The secret life of belly and bone,” . . .
this really touches upon why i read haiku, why i read in general.