Sails

Sails is a section of troutswirl that is devoted to presenting questions for discussion and debate on the nature and possibilities of haiku. Sails is overseen by Peter Yovu. For an introduction to this section, see Sails.

Many considerations and questions arose in the course of the past year, not only here on Sails, but throughout the blog. I am sure that some of these questions touched each of us to one degree or another, as challenge, as inspiration, as provocation or frustration. To start the new year, I want to ask a question which might allow for some review, but in a personal way. There are different ways of asking it. One might be: what is your haiku resolution? Another: where do want your haiku to go; what does it need? My intention in settling on the question— What is your edge?—is to include these and to be somewhat open-ended, to allow participants the space to explore what each feels would be most fruitful in developing his/her art, and therefore the art of haiku in general.

One way of considering this is to ask “What would I like to be able to do, and how can I learn more about it?” To me, one measure of the maturity of an artist resides in the ability to assess strengths and weaknesses, and there can be some discomfort in this, to be sure, but also joy in recognizing that there are, as we have seen, many islands on this journey, some of them new and enticing. It is this latter sense that I invite.

Is imagination your edge? The use of sound? One-line haiku? The bold explorations of gendai? Humor? Explicit emotion? The psychological dimension? A sense of mystery? Or perhaps your edge brings you to an exploration of what experience is, of what perception is? Would you benefit from writing more from memory, or dreams, or word association? Conversely, would you benefit from more direct experience with nature? And so on. Of course, some of these could be taken up as separate Sailings, and that may happen, but as I said, this is an opportunity to gather together some thoughts which may have been stirred up this past year. I hope readers will feel free to cite instances where an edge was revealed, here on Troutswirl, or elsewhere.

As always, I like to encourage the inclusion of examples. Would you consider posting a haiku (or two) which embodies a quality you admire and would like to develop?

I wish all a good and courageous journey through the New Year. The forests of the night are leaved with our sails.

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• 1st Sailing
• 2nd Sailing
• 3rd Sailing
• 4th Sailing
• 5th Sailing
• 6th Sailing
• 7th Sailing

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This “Sailing” will take many of us (I include myself) out of our comfort zone and into exotic waters. The word gendai itself may be enough to send ripples through our haiku foundations, but it simply means “modern.” Just as 20th century Western poetry went through numerous trials and transformations, so did 20th century Japanese haiku. These changes, in each case, were both a response to the old (not necessarily a rejection of it) and a willingness to meet the provocations of a challenging new era, which many felt demanded a new poetry, a revitalized haiku.

In his review of The Haiku Universe for the 21st Century ["Reboot"] (MH 40.3), Scott Metz quotes Masaoka Shiki: “Haiku advances . . . only when it departs from the traditional style.” I am not scholar enough to surmise how far Shiki would have been willing to take this departure, but I will guess that he would have been surprised, at the least, to discover the directions that his disciples and those who followed would take. Certainly a departure from realism, as various movements embraced subjectivity, politics, surrealism, feminism, disjunction and other literary techniques rarely encountered before. Some schools promoted the writing of haiku without kigo, a movement many writers in the West have also explored.

Here are some examples. The first will be familiar to readers of Troutswirl:

like squids
bank clerks are fluorescent
from the morning

—Kaneko Tōta (trans. Makoto Ueda)

autumn nightfall
the skeleton of a huge fish
is drawn out to sea

—Saito Sanki (trans. by Gendai Haiku Kyokai)

from the sight
of the man who was killed
we also vanished

—Murio Suzuki (trans. by Gendai Haiku Kyokai)

The Gendai Haiku Kyokai (Modern Haiku Association) was founded in 1947. By 1961, I learn from Scott’s review, it was open to “all kinds of haiku styles, including the traditional style . . . nonseasonal haiku and free form.” This, to a greater or lesser extent, is a policy followed by several of our better known publications, not excluding Modern Haiku and Frogpond, but especially Roadrunner and, now, with its haiku section edited by Richard Gilbert, Simply Haiku. Both champion the exploration of new directions in haiku, not necessarily centered on gendai, but certainly encouraged by it.

So, what is your response to this new presence in our lives?

You may recall that Christopher White posted a question (the question, in fact, that prompted me to launch this Sailing) which I will alter slightly to suit our purposes here: “A question I have is whether people feel that gendai haiku contain the standard Japanese aesthetic values or not. I ask this not in order to lay judgment on it—quite the opposite in fact: I’m interested in seeing what it has to say about haiku.”

As always, a number of questions arise from within these central questions. How useful is a study of, or at least exposure to, gendai haiku for you? In what ways? Do you seek new directions for your writing and reading? Is it important to continue looking to Japan for inspiration and education? (I hope to broaden this question of influence in a future Sailing).

It is a concern that some readers, believing they have not had enough exposure to modern Japanese haiku, will feel left out of this discussion. For those to whom it is new, (I include myself), I hope this Sailing will serve as an entry point, and offer directions for further exploration. For this reason, I am especially hopeful that readers who have more familiarity will present examples of work which they feel is significant, educational, or intriguing.

Three excellent sources of information, with many examples of gendai, can be found here:

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Sails is a section of troutswirl that is devoted to presenting questions for discussion and debate on the nature and possibilities of haiku. Sails is overseen by Peter Yovu. For an introduction to this section, see Sails.

• 1st Sailing
• 2nd Sailing
• 3rd Sailing
• 4th Sailing
• 5th Sailing
• 6th Sailing

. . . 6th Sailing . . .

presented by Peter Yovu

How do we write about Nature?

This Sailing honors Robert Spiess, featured in Montage #32. To be thorough about this, I should say it also honors Henry David Thoreau. Here is one of Spiess’ many “speculations on haiku”:

“Haiku poets should give full consideration to Thoreau’s observation: ‘How much is written about nature as somebody has portrayed her, how little about Nature as she is, and chiefly concerns us.’”

“Full consideration” of this observation will undoubtedly open up numerous questions, not only about the nature of Nature, but also, of course, about the role of the haiku poet in portraying “her”. (Interesting that Thoreau anthropomorphizes Nature, and yes I realize it was, and to some extent still is, customary to do so. I’ll continue in that fashion to maintain his tone).

One question: is it possible to portray Nature “as she is”?

Another: what is it about Nature, nearly 150 years after Thoreau’s death, that “chiefly concerns” you, and how is this reflected in, and engaged by haiku?

And one last, prompted by a word I used twice above: do we portray Nature, write about her, or do we seek, bridging the gap between Nature and human nature, to write as or perhaps through her? Is there a gap?

I realize this is an enormous and possibly daunting matter, but I trust you will find your own question, your own exploration. As with the previous Sailing, I would strongly encourage you to post poems which you feel somehow embody this consideration of “Nature as she is” and not “as somebody has portrayed her”. Perhaps something from Spiess himself, or something from Thoreau.

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Sails is a section of troutswirl that is devoted to presenting questions for discussion and debate on the nature and possibilities of haiku. Sails is overseen by Peter Yovu. For an introduction to this section, see Sails.

• 1st Sailing
• 2nd Sailing
• 3rd Sailing
• 4th Sailing
• 5th Sailing

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
• 2nd Sailing
• 3rd Sailing
• 4th Sailing

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. . . 5th Sailing . . .

presented by Peter Yovu

Sound?

The word seems a question unto itself. Composed of at least five sounds, it involves most of the mouth to say it. Comprising at least four distinct meanings, each with a separate etymology, its presence alone on the page leaves one uncertain if it refers to something which can be heard, to a sea channel, to health or to probing the depths. That is, until it is given context, and even then, all its meanings will swirl around it, and into us.

The context here is primarily sound as something heard and something made. So one question that arises is, how important to you is sound as a quality in haiku? How strong a factor is it in how you compose your poems, and in your enjoyment in reading them? Do you edit with sound in mind? We often celebrate the senses, and seek their renewal with haiku, but do you value the taste of words themselves and what they make your mouth do? (The poet Donald Hall refers to this pleasure as “milktongue”). Or do you regard it as a poetic device to be downplayed, or avoided?

As always, I encourage you to find your own point of entry into this Sailing. But what I would encourage most, is that you (and I will do the same) present for our pleasure and consideration a haiku (or two, or three) which you feel is greatly enhanced by the play of sound, whose meaning perhaps, is inseparable from its body. Can you say a thing or two about it? I look forward to seeing which haiku you choose to show us, and to the sounds you make on the subject of sound.