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re:Virals 375

Welcome to re:Virals, The Haiku Foundation’s weekly commentary feature on some of the best contemporary haiku and senryu written in English. This week’s poem, proposed by Rupa Anand, was:

at
the
base
of
a
redwood
lessons
on 
perspective 

— GRIX (Robin Smith — they, them)
Frogpond 44. 2, 2021

Introducing this poem, Rupa writes:

I loved this unusual poem the minute I read it. The structure of the poem is shaped like its content — a tree, vertical and tall. Visually, the reader immediately connects to the poem. Redwood trees are the largest and tallest trees in the world, living for thousands of years. Their magnificence lies in their height, and the base or root goes only 6-12 feet into the ground and yet they have the strength to withstand floods and powerful winds. Apparently, their roots can extend outwards, up to 100 feet from the trunk where they intertwine and hold the tree.

So, what is the base of these tallest trees on earth trying to tell us? Perspective, hmm, any one who has stood under a redwood and looked up . . . well, that’s perspective!

Opening comment:

Writing poetry in shapes — or “concrete” poetry — where the shape complements the message, is a technique that goes back centuries. George Herbert’s “Easter Wings” with two stanzas in the shape of crosses is a celebrated example from 1663. Blossoming since the 1960s, this means of presentation has been applied to many forms of poetry, and it is no surprise to find it used sometimes in English Language haiku: with such a concise form every element that can carry weight is useful. Visual design might, I suppose, be compared with calligraphy and arrangement in classic Japanese haiku, although such a comparison seems rather stretched. There is a trade-off if the reader has to make more effort to decypher the words.

In the poem under consideration, the shape complements the text and it’s not difficult to read, nor, if you have seen a redwood, is its message complicated. Learn from the redwood.

Confessional: I tried to grow a redwood seedling into a bonsai, once. I suppose it was a slightly mischievous challenge. There are two varieties where this can be done. Mine was never happy with its feet bound in a small dish, and after three years it grew sickly and died. I felt guilty and unclean about this. A reversal of the natural perspective of things.

Look forward to what readers learn from this verse.

Ann Smith:

I thought I’d lie down to read this poem and imagine I was lying at the base of a redwood tree looking up into its branches.

Sequoia sempervirens is its Latin name. It is a member of the cypress family. Sempervirens means always flourishing or evergreen and these trees are amongst the oldest living organisms on Earth, living for 1,200–2,200 years or more. Somewhere in the Sierra Nevada mountains in California is a redwood known as The President which is believed to be the oldest living, estimated to be about 3,200 years old . So here I am lying down looking up at this tree – all 68 years of me next to something that has been living for 3,200 years. That certainly puts things into perspective.

They are also among the tallest living trees on Earth and can reach up to 115.9 m (380.1 ft) in height. The President is approximately 75m (247 ft) high.

So here I am all 4ft 11 inches (and a bit) of me lying next to a 247 ft tree. That also puts things into perspective.

Because of us and our logging and development only five percent of California’s original coast redwood trees remain. So they are now listed as “endangered” by the International Union for Conservation of Nature. And that’s another perspective.

And, as I look up at this amazing tree, because of perspective, it narrows from its 8.2 m (27 ft) diameter to a point in the distance as indeed does the poem – a concrete poem which takes the shape of the object it describes

Well anyway that’s my perspective on this poem. I think I need to go and lie down now.

Harrison Lightwater:

This is a calm haiku that, at most, challenges the reader to think about perspectives. I was substituting alternatives like “in the thick of a traffic jam, lessons in discordance” or “lying on the beach, lessons in white noise,” but there is a bit more in “perspective,” and the redwood is a tree full of meaning in its size and its possible age. In the end there is plenty to think about when compared with a human, but it is the reader who has to do all the work.

The concrete form adds a little extra to liven up this little poem, although it is not new — I have seen quite a few short poems about trees, most often pine trees, written in vertical form, sometimes with the letters of the closing words scattered at the base like leaves.

Amoolya Kamalnath – a lot to learn from redwood trees:

I think I can call this a concrete senryu. I hope I’m right this time. The poem is shaped like a tree and the lesson we can draw out of the poem is at its rather wide base, the poem describing a picture from nature. The poem has 13 syllables and is a monoku. There is consonance in the poem.

Sequoioideae, popularly known as redwoods, is a subfamily of coniferous trees within the family Cupressaceae. It includes the largest and tallest trees in the world. The California redwood’s Latin name is Sequoia sempervirens. This translates to Sequoia ever-living. A redwood tree can grow to be one of the oldest tree species alive. Redwood is considered to be a symbolism of wisdom and longevity among many other things.

Even though redwoods are massive, they have tiny cones of about 1 inch long to spread their seeds around. Most redwoods grow more successfully from sprouts that form around the base of a tree (when a redwood tree experiences stress which could be overcrowding, erosion, fire damage, or even being chopped down to a stump), utilizing the nutrients and root system of a mature tree. They have appropriately large root systems, often extending to hundreds of feet and intertwining with the roots of other redwoods. These underground networks spread out from their source—typically a dead tree (80%)—and end up growing in circular clusters, sometimes called fairy rings or cathedral trees. (Fairy ring: a ring of trees, with a circular clearing in the middle, because the original tree breaks down). Sprouts grow more quickly than seedlings and redwoods sprout from both stumps and roots. [Redwood regeneration by Jennifer Skene (https://www.kqed.org/quest/12543/redwood-regeneration)]

Threats to redwood trees include logging, fire suppression, climate change, illegal marijuana cultivation, burl poaching, cankers, fungi and mammals. Redwoods predominate in coasts because they are better adapted to flooding than other trees. Repeated flooding builds up the soil level at the base of trees. Redwood adapts by putting out new roots higher up in the soil.

The fact that the redwood tree produces sprouts at its base in times of stress could be a lesson for us human beings to see our failures/frustrations/disappointments/stressful situations from a fresh perspective and challenge ourselves to work harder and do better, even newer and better things. The wide base of networking roots challenges us to go back to our own roots and learn from our own rich culture. The Fairy rings could be a lesson in unity, to help and support the needy, the sick and the dying and then nurture their dear ones like it still does happen in many joint families especially in South and Southeast Asia (though the culture is rapidly deteriorating). In times of floods, the number of layers of roots helps the redwood trees. Similarly, if we can be cordial and maintain a healthy relationship with our family and friends, they will be our moral support in difficult times. The wider base of roots and sprouts of good relationships and hard work will help us grow tall and go a long way in our lives just like these trees.

Redwoods are shade tolerant (can survive at very low light levels and then grow vigorously when they receive increased sunlight) and are incredibly fire-resistant too due to their fibrous grooved bark. [Coast Redwood (Sequoia sempervirens) – Forest research and outreach (University of California Agriculture and natural resources)] ucanr.edu

We may bloom when the time is right for us, we should be able to wait patiently when conditions aren’t conducive. We could learn to be more tolerant and less sensitive in situations that deem it. Many lessons abound – a lot to learn from these redwood trees.

Thank you, Rupa for selecting this ku. I really enjoyed reading up in depth about these magnificent trees and analyzing the poem. Thank you, Robin for writing this poem. this poem came to me at the right time, and I did learn some lessons on my own perspective.

Author Robin Smith:

This is a childhood memory I’ve nurtured into maturity (I don’t often write in the present). It was the first time 12-year-old me witnessed redwood trees in real life and I was overwhelmed by their majesty. I was already in the habit of traveling everywhere with a sketchbook (I am a visual artist) and eager to capture their likeness. The original “perspective” in this poem is sitting at the base of a tree, drawing another tree down the trail ahead of me. I realize this is not what most people see – they want to look up. But, as in a piece of art, there can be different perspectives; the way I would never tell a person how to look at or feel about one of my paintings, I never assume to read for the reader. So, I wrote it as the child who was drawing, but also, as the adult for whom the poem grew into something different as I can reflect as a form of abstract perspective and imagine how I would now experience that encounter, having lived all the things I’ve lived.

The formatting simply made sense. The poem did not lie on 3 lines (nor 2 lines) in a way that was pleasing to me and a monoku didn’t do anything for it, so, as I played with it, I eventually tried the vertical format. I honestly thought it might be too on the nose, knowing how people would read it, but also knowing I can’t do anything about other people, and all other formats I felt took away from the poem, so, this is what won out.


virus2

Thanks to all who sent commentaries. As the contributor of the commentary reckoned best this week, and for sharing all the effort researching the redwood tree, Amoolya has chosen next week’s poem, which you’ll find below. We invite you to write a commentary to it. It may be as long or short, academic or spontaneous, serious or silly, public or personal as you like. All with respect for the poet. Out-takes from the best of these take their place in the THF Archives. Best of all, the chosen commentary’s author gets to pick the next poem.

Anyone can participate. Simply use the re:Virals commentary form below to enter your commentary on the new week’s poem (“Your text”) by the following Tuesday midnight, Eastern US Time Zone, and then press Submit to send your entry. The Submit button will not be available until Name, Email, and Place of Residence fields are filled in. We look forward to seeing your commentary and finding out about your favourite poems!

Six-thousand-mile flight
I wake with my head on
a stranger’s shoulder

— Jenny Shepherd
Haiku Dialogue, The Haiku Foundation, 16 November 2022

The Haiku Foundation reminds you that participation in our offerings assumes respectful and appropriate behavior from all parties. Please see our Code of Conduct policy.


Footnote:

Robin Smith’s verses are everywhere! Award winner, editor of several journals, Touchstone panel editor…. and poet of many names; their interview with Julie Bloss Kelsey is here (as is Alan Summers’ sound advice therein: always trust your voice and never be in a hurry).

I like Robin’s approach in “all other formats I felt took away from the poem”. I think the same principle applies to all elements of a haiku or senryu. Each is present for a purpose, each should carry weight; and one way of testing when revising your own, or looking at others’ verses, is to take bits away and see whether the poem is diminished in any important respect. Another technique is the one mentioned by Harrison: to test the effect of subsituting a word or words for what seem to be the essential parts of a poem, to see whether the words the poet chose carry more, or less, import, and if so, then what and why.

This Post Has 16 Comments

  1. Dimitri : ” They were given the *Modern Haiku* “Spotlight” recently– quite an honor. Among poems in that selection was this one,
    which for me, anyway, has mystery and depth, and cannot be paraphrased, or analyzed–

    grasping bed rails
    a starfish emerges
    from his dream ” –

    It does have mystery and depth, I agree, but the scenario is grounded (something I appreciate) in L1. Once one sees a person’s arms out grasping bed rails it’s easy to see ‘his’ shape: starfish shape, arms stretched out wide & somewhat upwards, head in the middle, legs apart like the arms. Once I’ve seen this, it’s not hard for me to see that the starfish that emerges from the dream is one and the same as the dreamer himself.

    Perhaps it can’t be easily paraphrased but It can be compared :

    a drowning man
    pulled into violet worlds
    grasping hydrangea

    ( Richard Gilbert, published Noon: 1, 2004 )

    To me, that is a more difficult poem and (importantly, in my view) less physical than Robin Smith’s.

    1. Well, I only wanted to present a poem by the same author to show something I appreciated– and not offer only “negative” criticism.

      In reference to Richard Gilbert’s poem, offered as comparison, are you saying you prefer poems that are “less physical”. What do you mean by that. Thanks.

      1. “In reference to Richard Gilbert’s poem, offered as comparison, are you saying you prefer poems that are “less physical”. ” – D Parseff

        No, Dimitri, quite the opposite: I prefer poems that I can “get a grasp on” in some way. I live in a physical world and an astrologer would correctly throw me in with the Earth signs.

        To me, while Richard G’s poem certainly has what you’ve described as ” mystery and depth”and while I do appreciate Richard’s views . . . see my review of his ‘The Disjunctive Dragonfly’. . . goodness! 9 years ago now:

        http://ahundredgourds.com/ahg31/exposition06.html

        . . . I’ve quoted this particular haiku of his because I find in it a similarity shared with Robin’s haiku that you’ve quoted. I prefer Robin’s because “grasping bed rails” allows me a strongly physical way in, because that phrase grounds the poem, because for me it suggests a stronger, earthier physicality than ” grasping hydrangeas” while drowning does. Because for me (though Wallace Stevens is a favourite poet of mine) unresolvable mystery/ yugen is not paramount.

        1. Thank you. I see that this was clear from the beginning, but your further comments are helpful.

    2. Lorin : “Perhaps it can’t be easily paraphrased but it can be compared :

      a drowning man
      pulled into violet worlds
      grasping hydrangea
      — Richard Gilbert, Noon: 1, 2004”

      ***
      Well placed in the Journal of the Short Poem.

      We’re not in the water where hydrangeas aren’t found. Therefore ‘drowning’ is used figuratively (drowning in sorrows, drowning in complications, drowning in tedium…). Drawn into a strange unreal place where nothing is black and white. Feeling overcome. Clutching at a simple beauty of nature for salvation.

      The poet has contrived a highly figurative description that gets attention by sounding “strange” and which might very well describe the helpless feeling of trying to make sense of haiku….

      1. “We’re not in the water where hydrangeas aren’t found.” – Harrison

        We’re not in the water literally, I agree, but the drowning man is “grasping hydrangea” (hydra, from the Greek meaning water)
        He might be “in over his head”., as we say in Australia.

        Interesting enough to check, so I have :
        “First discovered in Japan, the name hydrangea comes from the Greek “hydor,” meaning water, and “angos,” meaning jar or vessel. This roughly translates to “water barrel,” referring to the hydrangea’s need for plenty of water and its cup-shaped flower.”
        (I imagine it’s the flowering bush that was first found in Japan, not the name – L )
        &
        “According to a Japanese legend, the hydrangea became associated with heartfelt emotion, gratitude for understanding, apology after a Japanese emperor gave them to the family of the girl he loved to make up for neglecting her in favor of business and show how much he cared about her. ”

        “The poet has contrived a highly figurative description that gets attention by sounding “strange” and which might very well describe the helpless feeling of trying to make sense of haiku…. ” – Harrison
        .
        🙂 You may be right, Harrison, especially if it’s making sense of modern Japanese haiku, I suspect. And some of the strangeness may very well be due to the fact that Richard has lived in Japan for a long time, now. It’s quite possible that ‘hydrangeas’ is a ‘pillow word’, evoking a story with all its nuances, that everyone in Japan is familiar with but which I’m completely unaware of. And yes, “Well placed in the Journal of the Short Poem”, which journal is (or was?) edited by another USA ex pat living in Japan.

    1. Thank you, dear Lorin, for your correction and for kindly sharing the link to learn about how to distinguish between haiku and senryu.

  2. Indeed “a lesson in perspective” and this haiku works seamlessly with both meanings of the word “perspective” : for instance (first up in Google) :
    1.
    “the art of representing three-dimensional objects on a two-dimensional surface so as to give the right impression of their height, width, depth, and position in relation to each other.
    2.
    “a particular attitude towards or way of regarding something; a point of view. e.g. “most guidebook history is written from the editor’s perspective”
    .
    My perspective: I’ve only seen redwood trees in films or photos, as they’re native to Nth. America, but it’s enough for me to understand how magnificently tall they can be. (I think they’re the tallest tree in the world; Australia’s Mountain Ash is second tallest) and of course how long each individual tree can live. A minority of humans may live for 100 years, but Redwoods are one of the world’s trees that can live for many, many centuries. (A commendable thing about the USA is that there are many national parks and the like where native trees can thrive, protected from logging. Unfortunately, this is not the case in Australia. As soon as possible after settlement, all the ancient, native cedars were felled and fortunes were made. In my own lifetime, the old growth forests of East Gippsland have been felled, even, in this 21st century, the relatively small parts that were supposedly protected. An old friend who’s never left the small East Gippsland town I lived in as a child took me out and showed me. . . the emptiness. Gerard Manly Hopkins wrote these lines about aspen copses: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/44390/binsey-poplars
    Imagine how my old friend and I felt standing in that physical emptiness, the forest of great, old trees of our childhood gone, illegally, the weeds already thriving. Forgive me, I digress.)

    I agree with Robin Smith’s comment “The formatting simply made sense. ” To me, the straight, left-aligned format simply suggests height (or depth) and slows our reading. We read from top to bottom, as we might look to the height of a very tall tree and then follow down the trunk to its base.

    This is the kind of haiku I wish I’d written. 🙂

    the appearance of viewed objects with regard to their relative position, distance from the viewer, etc.
    “a trick of perspective”
    a view or prospect.
    plural noun: perspectives
    h
    Similar:
    view

    vista
    panorama
    prospect
    bird’s-eye view
    sweep
    outlook
    aspect

    lookout
    Geometry
    the relation of two figures in the same plane, such that pairs of corresponding points lie on concurrent lines, and corresponding lines meet in collinear points.

    2.
    a particular attitude towards or way of regarding something; a point of view.
    “most guidebook history is written from the editor’s perspective”

    1. Please ignore the above from ” the appearance of viewed objects” down. I don’t know how that part got into my post! I only intended to copy & paste this from the Google search :

      “1.
      “the art of representing three-dimensional objects on a two-dimensional surface so as to give the right impression of their height, width, depth, and position in relation to each other.
      2.
      “a particular attitude towards or way of regarding something; a point of view. e.g. “most guidebook history is written from the editor’s perspective”

      Nothing further than that! Somehow, it’s automatically put nore of itself there & I didn’t see it. My apologies.

  3. I think there is general agreement about poetry that it is what cannot be paraphrased, that it “resist[s] the intelligence almost successfully.” With all respect to Grix, I would say this poem is quite paraphrasable– it does not cast the “poetic spell” that Martin Lucas spoke of so wonderfully.

    They were given the *Modern Haiku* “Spotlight” recently– quite an honor. Among poems in that selection was this one,
    which for me, anyway, has mystery and depth, and cannot be paraphrased, or analyzed–

    grasping bed rails
    a starfish emerges
    from his dream

    1. I once overheard a conversation between two students:

      “I can’t understand it.”

      “Well it must be poetry then!”

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