re:Virals 459

Welcome to re:Virals, The Haiku Foundation’s weekly commentary feature on some of your favorites among the best contemporary haiku and senryu written in English. This week’s poem, chosen by John Daleiden, was:

     
the starfish
      missing a leg
on the clearance shelf
—Randy Brooks
The Heron's Nest, Volume XXVI, Number 2: June 2024

Introducing this poem, John writes:

Randy Brooks’ clever poem is tantalizing to read—is it a haiku or a senryū? The starfish is clearly an object of nature—the natural world. The clearance shelf is clearly an object in the human world. Perhaps the poem is both haiku and senryū. So: the two worlds collide—now what? I will be interested to see what observations various readers make about this teasing bit of verse.

Opening comment:

Very good.  This is written in the form of a run-on sentence, in essence a single-theme haiku, without a disjunctive juxtaposition around a grammatical break: an ichibutsu jitate.  There are many examples among the works of Buson, Issa, Shiki, and Bashō. The form is regarded as difficult to do well.  A sign of an experienced, skilful and knowledgeable haiku poet.

Although there’s no clear ‘cut’ (as is often the case also in that other form, the modern monoku with its sliding readings), the line endings and the indentation nudge a reader to pause around each of three elements: the image of the starfish (as a whole); its absent leg in focus; and the shelf.  The shelf is deftly qualified as a clearance shelf which situates us in a store and which, together with “missing,” invites readers to add (or juxtapose) their own thoughts on damage and disfigurement, disposal and worth.

The private lives of these echinoderms may not be exemplary, although we too like much of their diet: oysters, clams, mussels, crabs, small fish and some seaweeds.  Their beautiful stellar form and patterns, and connection with the sea from which we land animals came, make them collectable as shelf ornaments and therefore of some commercial value —to the detriment of some species.  Dried starfish are often to be found in seaside knick-knack stores.  However it was that this one came to lose a leg, perhaps in the brutal predatory world underwater, perhaps through someone’s clumsiness, it is damaged goods and destined to be thrown away unless someone buys it.

Now, attuned and sensitive readers will meditate on the disabled and disfigured, perhaps through birth or accident or war, and society’s propensity to regard them as of less value, even to discard them. But the verse is not as obvious as that. It’s balanced by the hope, the expectation, that the starfish, damaged as it may be, will still be of value to someone.  The empathetic buyer at a knockdown price of this imperfect, once-beautiful creature simply radiating wabi-sabi will undoubtedly have the soul and compassion of a haiku poet.

Dan Campbell:

Starfish are fascinating creatures and inhabit a range of marine environments, from the shallow intertidal zones to the deep ocean floor. They are often found on rocky shores, coral reefs, and seagrass beds.

One of the most remarkable features of starfish is their ability to regenerate lost limbs. This regenerative power is not just a survival mechanism but also a symbol of resilience. When a starfish loses an arm due to predation or injury, it can regrow the missing limb over time.

Due to its adaptability and resilience, an interesting play could be written about a starfish with a missing leg on a clearance shelf and the starfish monologue below could open the play:

“So, here I am. You might think a starfish wouldn’t have much to say, but life on a clearance shelf teaches you a thing or two about perspective. Once, I basked under the sun in a coral paradise with five perfect legs sprawled out. But, nothing lasts forever. One day, a fierce current swept me away, and I ended up here, a discount decoration with a leg missing.

Losing a leg isn’t the end of the world. You learn to adapt. The world sees me as damaged goods, marked down for a quick sale, but I see myself as a survivor. I’m a starfish, after all. Resilience is in my nature. I can regrow what I’ve lost, given the chance. Yet here I sit, priced to move, waiting for someone to see beyond the missing limb.

I watch shoppers pass by, their eyes skimming over me, seeking perfection in shiny new trinkets. I wonder if they ever think about the stories behind these objects. If they knew mine, would they appreciate me more? Would they see the strength it took to survive the tides and still be here, even with one leg less?

But maybe it’s not about them. Maybe it’s about me finding my own worth, leg or no leg. The clearance shelf isn’t a place to wither; it’s a place to shine in my own unique way. So here’s to the broken, the marked down, and the overlooked. Here’s to embracing our flaws and wearing them like badges of honor. Because in the end, it’s the cracks and missing pieces that make us whole.”

Richa Sharma:

A powerful haiku continuing in the vein of Basho’s Sado Island. It may be reminding us of being ‘caught’ in Shiva’s symbolic dance of creation and destruction. Haiku cannot ignore the dark side, as it is capable of generating true compassion. Each one will pass the “clearance shelf.” This poem aims to challenge our thinking.

Jennifer Gurney:

The last line of Randy Brook’s poem got me. I always love Randy’s poems.

The starfish story was the cornerstone of my teacher training program in 2008. I had decided, in my mid 40s, to finally get my teaching license. After a 20+ year career in advocacy, media and writing. Day one, we heard the starfish story and it resonated with me.

A boy on a beach is tossing starfish back into the ocean, one by one. A man comes upon him and says it doesn’t matter, they’ll all wash up again. The boy responds, with a starfish in-hand, matters to this one, and tossed it in. My first tattoo is a starfish on my ankle, in reference to this.

Granted, Brooks’ poem is light-hearted and ever-so clever. I loved the unexpectedness of L3. But for me, it harkens back to the boy on the beach and his steadfast belief and hope in each and every starfish.

I also liked many aspects of the poem from a poetry standpoint. All the s and sh sounds reflect the sounds of the waves at the ocean, from whence the starfish came: starfish, missing, clearance, shelf. I also like that L2 is indented. I’m not sure if this was Randy’s intent, but for me the indent parallels the space the missing leg created. It also created stairsteps on the right side of the poem, like shelves might do.

Now I want to go to the beach….

Amoolya Kamalnath:

A run-on sentence with a deep meaning showing no emotion. The indentation in L2 gives a clue about something missing and also creates some tension as to what’s awaited. The word clearance slows down L3 as though portraying the slow dispensing of the item lying on the shelf of a shop or may be even a home, which has been lying there for a very long time.

Initially, I was flummoxed because I knew neither that decorative starfish items are sold nor that people eat starfish.

Here, the starfish may be a showpiece, an item of keepsake value, which must have been a precious gift from a loved one, but which is no more wanted now, may be because of its broken leg. It is soon to be disposed off. It may be a shopkeeper who is clearing off old items through a discount sale or even an owner of a house who may be clearing off some remains before disposing off the old house.

Metaphorically, I see the verse implying the eventuality of morbidity and mortality in living beings. Many living beings die of disease. Some diabetics lose a limb and eventually pass on (this is exactly what first came to my mind reading this verse, having seen someone closely related in this state some years ago – a burly man with a heavy voice and rather authoritative having to remain bed-ridden for many months before eventually passing on). It could also imply a person in their winter years missing a spouse who’s no more and himself/herself is now just waiting for the ultimate voyage. If this is what the verse implies, then can this ku be called a death poem?

Lakshman Bulusu:

This haiku succinctly captures the image of a “starfish” devoid of a “leg” and sitting on the “clearance shelf” meaning an item is still useful when marked as clearance. It might miss a part as important as a “leg” out of five legs, yet is beautiful and worthy of purchase as a whole.

It can also be interpreted as a season like summer in tropical climate when a week may be too hot to venture out and enjoy yet other days of the season are not that hot and are cool enough to spend time outdoors in places like a theme park or beach. Tropical places though can be viewed as “clearance” yet are fulfilling in ways to chill out.

Outdoors or indoors, a “missing leg” is not “a complete miss out”. And hence can be worthwhile to buy or decorate or heartwarmingly thrilling.

Similarly, a starfish in water like in an aquarium can be “played” with even when one of its legs is missing.

Melissa Dennison — empathy with the imperfect:

This seems so everyday doesn’t it? It seems that any supermarket or store you walk into has a clearance shelf. The area of the store where you might be able to grab a bargain if you are lucky. I have rummaged around on one or two myself.

It is also where you fund the chipped, damaged or broken. Perhaps this is a metaphor for modern society, much of which seems damaged or broken. So much so that this is in our political narratives. How often in the UK do we hear that the National Health Service is broken, for example?

Clearance shelves are also places where people we think of as damaged or broken, (i.e. poor or on hard times) shop, at the end of the day when products are cheaper or ready to be thrown away.

There are several meanings and different interpretations present in these words.

What I particularly enjoy is the visual nature of this poem, as it seems so real to me, I can see the starfish with its missing leg waiting for someone to pick it up and pop it in their basket. I would probably be tempted to myself, as I like idiosyncrasies. They add character.

Could it be that we are like this starfish at times? Unwanted, imperfect, a little bruised or broken by life? Haven’t we all wished for someone to come along, take us home and fix us?

Finally, I think it’s interesting how Randy has structured this poem, how line two indicates a missing leg through the use of space and indentation. And how lines one and two are sitting above line three that represents the clearance shelf itself. Playful.

Author Randy Brooks:

My family and I love going to the beach and often catch the sunrise over the Atlantic Ocean during our early morning walks. If I were reading this haiku out loud, I would pause significantly after the second line. This pause would hopefully allow the reader or listener time to conjure up a scene on the beach of finding a small starfish that has been tossed around by last night’s storm. Perhaps it is only a wounded survivor, so we try to save it by returning it to the sea.  Unfortunately, the last line takes us to a different scene. Now we we are in one of those tacky tourist shops with gaudy t-shirts, neon-colored sea shells, and other junk. The starfish was not a survivor. It may have been caught alive and sacrificed for slight commercial value. However, now that it has “a missing leg” it’s not as valuable and on a shelf with other “broken” or less valuable things nobody wants. Turns out the starfish’s storm was simply the vulnerability of being caught and picked up repeatedly or dropped by careless shoppers at the beach store.

Thanks to all who sent commentaries. As the contributor of the commentary reckoned best this week, Melissa 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!

Poem for commentary:

     
the multiverse reclines in her pale blue eyes
 
—Gary Hittmeyer
 Blithe Spirit, Volume 34, number 2, May 2024

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:

Randy Brooks is such a well-known figure in the haiku community that he scarcely needs introduction.  His short bio may be read here in Haikupedia, and there is an expanded version together with an interview last year for Frogpond, where you will find links to some of his poems.

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In his introductory comment John Daleiden wondered whether this week’s verse is haiku or senryu or something in between.  I regard this as an academic matter of pigeonholing rather than a fundament of poetic creation, and with a growing number of verses being published in the overlap between ‘clearly haiku’ and ‘clearly senryu’ I would say that this one is more haiku than senryu. It is not without a very gentle sense of humour, but it is not comical or ironic; the overall sense of it is serious and the verse is rooted in nature as well as posing questions about human nature. No season word is used, but in the absence of one, the default season for the seaside and an open store selling seaside knick-knacks to me is summer. Others may have different views.
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