The Haiku Foundation Forums

Yes, Paul's post is interesting and germane to the topic of clarity. If he or anyone feels that I have muddied the stream a bit here, they may well be right.

By "written" I mean a poem, regardless of its origins, which has gone through a journey of discovery to some sort of-- I can't avoid paradox-- dynamic resting place on the page, and in the reader's imagination.

What I mean by "constructed" refers to a poem whose parts don't quite cohere as a felt
"whole". It can be grasped, but not intuited.

It's hard to talk about this, frankly, without sounding harsh or dismissive.

Martin Lucas might disagree with my approach here, but I think he talks about, and with greater clarity no doubt, something similar in his essay Haiku as Poetic Spell.

He says: " . . . poets writing original haiku in English have focused on what is said and
paid relatively little attention to how it is said".

I would say it is this "how" which underlies writing as a journey of discovery.

Of course, to get a better sense of what Lucas is talking about, to get more context, requires reading his essay. Nonetheless, I'll extract a bit more and say that he refers to
haiku which are "essentially rational"; which easily yield to prose paraphrase;
and which can be "analyzed in terms of information content alone" as "International Formula" haiku. (There's more to it than that-- but again-- read the essay).

He says that haiku which are imbued with "poetic spell" on the other hand, are "essentially irrational- prose paraphrase not possible"; and they "cannot be analyzed in terms of information content alone".

So another word for "constructed" may  be "formulaic". The parts which go into such a poem can be taken apart with no real loss of meaning. The poem does not go beyond the author's intent.

And by "written" I'll now say that the writer has worked with elements of prosody (among other things) under some compulsion or belief that sound and rhythm-- the contours of which need to be explored and discovered--  will yield a felt or intuited meaning, perhaps beyond any intention of the author. It cannot be taken apart, and the attempt destroys it.

This does not necessarily mean that "information" has no place-- just not a dominant one.

And of course there are poems, I and others who publish in R'r and elsewhere have sometimes been guilty of this, which are "clouded" to use Paul's word-- which for me means they resist
taking any shape and mean whatever you want them to mean.

I'll just add, though I think it belongs in another discussion, that "experience" as treated in haiku need not be determined as "outer" phenomena only, but may be of inner and equally real phenomena-- and expression of that may well appear to some as made up, imagined, or even fantastic, as it requires unusual language and juxtapositions. It may end up being dismissed as "desk ku".

 
I was just moving around my room to some Afro-Celt Sound System music, reading a poem or two from Seamus Heaney's Wintering Out (I have the Faber edition) and thinking about this subject-- or subjects really. I had some good thoughts. I've forgotten most of them. You had to be there, I guess.

A lot's been set down in the small space of this brief (so far) discussion. Perhaps someone will read it and decide to write an essay about the influences of Objectivism, Imagism, modernism, post-modernism etc. on Elh. Can such a journey even be traced? Kind of a companion to Haiku in English.

I too think that what Don has said-- "The art of writing haiku is the art of writing, living and speaking from clarity rather than chaos" is worth looking at. Maybe Don will speak a bit more to what this means to him. It is possible that the thoughts that come to mind right now around this will not relate directly to his, or only glancingly. But I suppose that's what's discussion is about--  coming to a point where one is responding to a fulness, not reacting to a perceived angle.

What I want mostly is to write poetry. This for me has always meant a process of discovery. It does not necessarily start from clarity-- or at least not one yet discerned. It starts from curiosity-- where will these words, these sounds, this image lead me? Why am I drawn to this tree? What's nagging at me from some unlit place?

It's easier to apply this to poems longer than haiku. In very good poems, you can kind of trace the poet's process-- maybe Oppen's poems are good examples. I think this is one reason many poets dismiss haiku-- they don't appear to have be written in the way I 'm talking about. They appear to be products-- they are all too clear.

I think the problem in part, is this: reading a number of haiku that are simple and very clear-- they are easily grasped-- some people get the idea that this is something they can do. Maybe that's a good starting point, but I think ultimately it's a mistake. A better, more sober, more exhilarating starting point is when you realize you can't write haiku. I can't write haiku. Maybe I'm just being perverse here, but I think it's not until you really feel this that you actually can. Write a poem. Haiku.

And yes I realize that with haiku much of the process-- the study, the engagement with language, with what perception is and so on--  and with everything that brings up-- remains mostly invisible. It comes prior to the poem we see. (Sidebar: Valery--  "A poem is never finished. It is only abandoned).

I'm not convinced that this needs be the case with haiku. Does the appearance in haiku of Philip's  "experiencing, language-using subject" speak to this-- bringing process into the work? I think some will say that's exactly what haiku should not do-- that it blurs rather than clarifies. Here too, examples would be helpful.

But with poems which are all too clear, which are easily grasped, which appear not to have been written but to have been constructed-- one does not sense the engagement.

A number of people have asked for concision in these posts. Hard to do sometimes when one needs to think things through a bit to discover one's meaning. Or get a rhythm.

So, back to the music. Some I may have to face.

I'm writing this with a heavy heart. Here's a link to the NY Times announcement of the death of Seamus Heaney.


http://www.nytimes.com/2013/08/31/arts/seamus-heaney-acclaimed-irish-poet-dies-at-74.html


Strange to think that the last poem of his to be (re)published during his life may well have appeared in Haiku in English.

Dangerous pavements . . .
But this year I face the ice
with my father's stick

I removed my earlier response-- too expansive for now, I feel.

What I would like to suggest is that the discussion be anchored with some examples--

haiku that derive from objectivist principles, and haiku that derive from imagism. Is this possible?

Maybe we can look at how "clarity" operates in either case-- or doesn't.

PY

Philip and Don,

a wonderful subject, I think-- worthy of devoting a Field Notes to. Maybe we can do both-- some discussion here, and pick it up later more formally.

I do have some thoughts about this I'd like to try out, and will come back later.

You could say that Field Notes provides a sort of virtual container for discussion-- to function both as an amplifier as well as a haven-- much as the upcoming HNA conference will no doubt do, and much as retreats can do.

That's the intention at any rate. Questions that have been raised by Diane's and Michael's (and others') posts will almost certainly come up for FN exploration. I don't exactly want to steer anyone away from ongoing discussion right now, however. If it needs to happen, it will happen.

I'm sure these posts have got a few of us thinking.

PY

H. Gene Murtha, responding to the Field Notes forum question regarding what poets who write haiku and poets who don't can learn from each other asked:

What is the point of the question?

I have a roundabout reply, but will try to be brief. Discussions on the old Troutswirl blog and later on Sails were often quite lively and stimulating. However, they tended to attract a relatively small (but loyal) band of participants. At times discussions within discussions went in the direction of "how can we get more people involved?"

With Field Notes, the idea was to invite a number of people to participate in the exploration of a variety of topics, and to make it as appealing and simple as possible. Some are people who have little time at their disposal and may not visit the forums on a regular basis. FN has provided them a good way to offer their views.

You can see the results. It is not meant to be exclusive. Anyone interested can respond to a given topic in any way they wish. Anyone can pick up on something that someone else has said, and take off in that direction, perhaps invite discussion. That's what Michael has done with an intriguing statement made by Diane Wakoski.

So, in general, the point of the questions is to stimulate thought, to generate discussion, and perhaps to inspire. Some questions are going to do none of that for some people. This particular question came out of a lot of interest that has been expressed about the relationship between poetry in general and haiku in particular. Each person's question around that general subject is likely to be a little, or a lot, different.

That's why FN panelists and all participants are encouraged to "make the question their own"-- to find their own version of it. An example of that, picked up by several people so far, might go something like this:

"Can you talk about a poet (who doesn't write haiku) who has helped you write haiku?" The ideal response, in my view, is one in which you find out what you didn't know you knew. 

For some people it seems, this particular question may be a bit of a tree stump-- used to have some relevance, perhaps, but now, there's nothing much to climb on. For others, there are fresh shoots to appreciate.



PY

Welcome to the second in our series: Field Notes: Explorations in Haiku.

This time, we invited a panel of writers to consider a pair of related questions:

What can poets who do not write haiku learn from haiku? What can poets who write haiku learn from other forms or genres of poetry?

(I should say that the question as originally posed was:

"What can "mainstream" poets learn from haiku? What can haiku poets learn from "mainstream"poetry?"

We didn't want the word "mainstream" to set the tone for this exploration, and so changed things a bit.
Nonetheless, it hung about in the corners of the room like yesterday's birthday balloon. Some writers ignored it. Some did not).

But as before, writers were encouraged to make the question their own, to be brief or long, and as straightforward or as imaginative as they wished. I think you will find their responses quite interesting, and would like to encourage you to post your own thoughts on the matter.

Thanks, Peter.

I too had an early soft spot for "becoming dusk". I think much of its power comes from the sound of it. Do you think so?

The next installment of Field Notes should interest you and I hope a few others-- it looks at some of what you've mentioned here. We should be online with it on Saturday, July 27. There'll be an announcement.

Here is the last batch of excerpts (they can't do the full postings justice)  from Field Notes 1: Where do your haiku begin? (Which does not mean the topic is closed-- please add your response).

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If I try to trace it, from something/somewhere beyond me that tingles and quivers something/somewhere inside my body, hangs on a few words, and then slips away again.

In the Between.

Eve Luckring


My haiku begin in memory. . .  As a little bump of something felt . . . A memory with a tactile presence to it: raw material, pre-lingual. I think it's probably something my subconscious has already done a lot of work on.

When we read a haiku our mind peels it off the paper and transforms it into another kind of energy; it's that energy that goes into our memory as "the poem". That's how a haiku becomes a metaphysical reality.

I've this memory--
riding my father's shoulders
into the ocean,
the poetry of things
before I could speak

Michael McClintock


The night and where by light
I am undone and done again.

Peter Yovu


My haiku begin about 3,00 years ago in a wasp's nest in Iberian Gaul.

My haiku begin where my ability to explain things fails.

My haiku begin when I have nothing left to say.

*************

Sometimes I think our haiku are so focussed on exactitude . . . we lose the opportunity for open meanings . . . for hinting at the narrative fragments haiku may possess if we change our lenses and allow for uncertainty.

************

a loveletter to the butterfly gods with strategic misspellings

. . . It just sounded so beautiful and and mysterious and profound. Who sent it to me? That's up to you.

Chris Gordon


I walk each day . . . to get from Point A to Point B. But I make it a point of my daily writing practice to walk from Point A to wherever I end up.

Haiku happen at just the right speed.

. . . Each seems to lure me closer. . .  A treasure hunt for language.

My haiku begin where there's a void . . . The worlds I discover . . . are the moments I'd like to remember. . . At the same time, my haiku begin by getting lost.

Peter Newton


As I live my life I trip over haiku, one step at a time.

Often it is something I see everyday and suddenly realize I am seeing . . . in a new light . . .

Garry Gay


Everything from nothing, nothing from everything: the question is the answer.

Gauguin . . . said:

Where do we come from? What are we? Where are we going?

And he said it as a creative act.

Don Wentworth


I mostly have my "haiku" awareness in image form . . . but every once in awhile . . . words come to mind and startle me.

A very strange thing happens often. I end up living my haiku.

Merrill Ann Gonzales


I was struck by the brevity of [paul reps'] poems.

So I wasn't thinking these reps things were like haiku or anything like that. They just had an immediate charge to them.

He called them telegrams.

Adam Traynor




Sometimes it's laid out as a gift already written for me . . .

heat lightning
the tree's blossom unfolds
into an egret

Other times I have to dig and never find it.

Martin Gottlieb Cohen

Look for the third (and last) batch of excerpts from Field Notes 1: Where do your haiku begin. It's ovber on the Forum.

Look for another batch of excerpts from Field Notes: Where do your haiku begin? over on the Forum.

Thanks for the encouragement Snow Leopard. As to your suggestions, all I can say is:

stay tuned.

Here's another batch of excerpts from Field Notes: Where do your haiku begin?


--in observation/renewed awareness of world and word

--in the "feeling of presence, not concept" (Robert Duncan)

-- in the wish to acknowledge change and uncertainty; for a kind of home in homelessness

Philip Rowland


. . . with my writing whatever comes to mind or whatever I'm experimenting with or exploring at the time.

". . . putting to service the riches of our land and language, summoning the dexterity of Western writing tools." (Raymond Roseliep)

I began trying to write haiku about noticing things not there.

. . . our underlying motivation to write often comes from either a feeling that
something is wrong or broken. . . OR that everything is perfect . . .

tai chi
with my wife . . .
morning glories open

This edited version . . . comes from my playfulness with language.

school's out--
a boy follows his dog
into the woods

This title poem from . . . School's Out . . . came from my recognition about different types of consciousness-- the analytical thinking that occupies my mind as a teacher . . . and the intuition, spontaneous playful consciousness as a haiku writer. I learn and thrive from both types of consciousness.

Randy Brooks


I see something while walking, driving, looking out the window that does make me "ah!"

I may get half the poem at the moment and have to search for the other for days or weeks.

Aubrie Cox


silence, what is



to be mentioned:


as far as how to speak where things concatenate

seems to be there is no me to be

. . .


                       what is silence

for a language being.

. . .

silence because I want you to find out


*********************************************

               then

with new determination an ecology of selves shining and new


**********************************************

the idea of embedding haiku into longer forms . . .

. . . if writing for the reader aways ends in 'goodbye'; to give that goodbye gist is something like "mono no aware"-- that cutting moment of resolution, wholeness/emptiness in presence/absence--

Like any good instrument that places the cosmos in your hands, it takes time to work the tools; the payoff is that they can effect novel navigations to near and foreign shores.

Richard Gilbert


Writing haiku is taking up the challenge of expressing in words and images what is often inexpressible.

My haiku come from a pleasurable anticipation of play and discovery.

Kristen Deming


From gazing into the windows of a locked farmhouse whose Japanese owners had been forced to leave...  .

From the Russians shipping my paternal grandparents from Riga to somewhere in Siberia where they died.

From a need to seize the moment.

From watching a butterfly balance on a begonia.

George Swede


That space between noise and silence when something gets written, and later I do not recognise the poem as having been written by me, because I couldn't possibly. . . write like that if I tried.

. . . it's a blinking out of normal space and time.

Alan Summers

Over on the Forum I have posted a number of excerpts from the first edition of Field Notes and will continue to post additional ones over the next few days. Have a look, and take a moment to reflect for yourself on the question

Where do your haiku begin?

and let us know what you find.