re:Virals 512
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. In the host chair today is Susan Yavaniski. This week’s poem, chosen by Joshua St. Claire was:
today this gourd has grown an inch: the heat — Marlene Mountain the old tin roof (self-published, 1976)
Introducing this poem, Joshua writes:
the old tin roof is a foundational text for me in the art of haiku. It taught me the power of writing unapologetically about who/where/what I am. “today” exemplifies Mountain’s idiosyncratic voice. It has an unusual presentation (vertiku with a colon as a kireji), intense imagery (the heat), hyperlocality (the poem feels right at home on her mountain), and an undeniable undercurrent of both sensuality and gender commentary (the extending gourd as phallic image). I’ve seen villanelles say less in 19 lines than Mountain does in 9 words.
Opening comment (Susan Yavaniski):
Thinking about this week’s poem, I was reminded of the impact that a poet’s name and biography—the so-called fourth line— can have on a haiku. Michael Dylan Welch in discussing the fourth line, writes: “more than other poetry, (haiku) requires that the reader know something that lies outside the poem for it to rise to its full meaning. . . If we begin to know the life stories of our fellow poets. . .perhaps we can more deeply appreciate their poems.”
Certainly “today” stands on its own without the fourth line. A normative haiku, the natural images evoke a particular place (a garden) and time (a summer day coming to its close); convey sensation, primarily of heat and languor; and successfully communicate varied emotions—anticipation, hope, tenderness, and joy are among those mentioned in the commentaries this week. It is a haiku squarely in the classical Japanese tradition, with a two-part image structure, a cut after the colon, and two summer kigo—heat and gourd. Although just nine words in length, there is masterful build-up of tension in this poem generated by its vertical structure. On the one hand, its incremental shape visually re-enacts the process of growth. At the same time, the lineation of one word per line requires the reader to linger on each word before moving to the next, slowing progress through the poem. The addition of the colon at “inch:” then demands an even more dramatic pause, the effect of which is to steal what little momentum the poem had. At the end, the reader is left, with the poet, in the heat, with nowhere else to go. There is a sense that while the growth of the gourd is both significant and measurable, it is also slow, and insufficient, a case of the proverbial watched pot.
Now consider that the author who wrote “today,” was not Marlene Mountain—“one of the most restive, experimental, contentious, controversial, and important figures in the world of haiku”—but rather Marlene Morelock Wills, known mostly at that time as the wife of haiku luminary John Wills. The years leading up to her self-publication of the old tin roof in 1976 were ones of profound transformation for Morelock Wills on many fronts: marrying in 1965; becoming a mother in 1967; moving in 1971 with her husband and young son to a mountain farm to eke a living from the land by market gardening and other odd jobs—an extraordinarily difficult life by her own account. She had received her MA in art in 1962, but stopped painting and photography soon after she became a mother, continuing, however, to think deeply about her vocation. She was also developing politically and spiritually, becoming ever more aware of women’s issues, and—immersed as she was in nature on the mountain—of environmental issues as well. Finally, as a practitioner of haiku since 1967, she was critical of the English language haiku mainstream, and had been experimenting widely with form and content in haiku to discover how to express her vision within its confines. In 1977, the year after the old tin roof was released, these disparate undercurrents of change culminated in an experience she characterized as one of feminist “enlightenment.” Within the course of the following year, she would adopt the name Marlene Mountain (after identification with the mountain as a goddess-symbol), recreate herself as a feminist activist artist-poet, divorce Wills, quit market gardening to work in the arts, and resume painting after her almost nine-year lapse.
Whew!
Putting “today” in the context of the slow-cooker that was Morelock Wills’ life when it was published adds emotional freight to the poem and opens up many avenues of meaning and of play in a haiku that might otherwise be understood simply as an expression of sono mama—of “things as they are.” So let’s play! What is a gourd, but, as any market gardener would know, the rapidly growing fruit of a female flower? In many traditions the gourd is a symbol of female fertility—the female creative aspect in its myriad forms, be it sexual, artistic, or agricultural. Does knowing that the poet had written a one-word haiku, “gourding” soon after becoming a mother add nuance to this poem? What is “the heat” but the elemental force of circumstance, at once gestating and stultifying? Might not the vertical shape of the poem recapitulate the letter ‘I’, and thus point to the self that is growing and developing politically, spiritually, artistically, personally? Might not the lineation technique emphasizing slowness reflect restiveness, an impatience with the pace of growth—vegetable, personal or otherwise, with farm life in general, with marriage, or with any other circumstance the poet found less than satisfactory? Might the calculated use of the “:” after “inch” visually represent the imprint of a thumb and forefinger— the two fingers a gardener would use to measure an inch, and also the fingers with which an artist holds her brush, or a poet taps the keys of a typewriter? What could that signify? In the sequence of the old tin roof, this poem falls immediately after the concrete one-word haiku, “butterfly” itself a classic symbol of transformation, and just before the much darker monoku “at dusk hot water from the hose.” What might this particular placement convey to the reader about the poet’s psychic predicament? On yet another level, might not the expanding gourd be interpreted as her own creative endeavor—as this vertical haiku itself, or the innovative the old tin roof, for instance? If so, given her experimental approach to haiku, could “today” be interpreted as a humorous jab at the 5-7-5 and three-line haiku that was standard at the time, its last line perhaps referencing both her own disruption of the ELH status quo, as well as the nature of expected blowback from the critics:
today
this
haiku
has
grown
an
inch:
the
heat
More could be said. A mere inch of poem, and much to chew on.
Sudha Devi Nayak:
This is a column haiku with every word placed like a rung on a ladder and calls up a telling image of the poet standing on her toes, peering at a gourd that has grown an inch in the warmth of summer. There are shades of John Keats:
“Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
Close bosom friend of the maturing sun. . .”
Gourds of many different types are plentiful in India: some spherical, some long; some cooked as vegetables, some eaten as fruit. There are watermelons, muskmelons, pumpkins, bottle gourds, ridge gourds, and bitter gourds. In this poem, we are not aware of the shape or the type of gourd, we are only told it has grown, either circumferentially or vertically, but enough so that the poet feels it has grown an inch. We can sense the anticipation, the pride and the quiet joy of her efforts, with all the love someone has for plants and children. Perhaps the gourd is from her kitchen garden nurtured with care, and she is thinking of it as delectable fare for the family.
All haiku are moments transient and transcendent, carried forward into memory, a gentle collaboration between the reader and writer, a meaningful engagement with that moment. In the mellow ripening of the gourd, I can experience the personal satisfaction of the poet and her creation.
Refika Dedić:
There is a tenderness, an attention to detail, but also an absurd beauty in this haiku that is reminiscent of poetic minimalism or Zen haiku. Every day can bring a tiny, almost imperceptible growth that is real and tangible, thanks to the warmth, whether it is a plant, an emotion, or ourselves.
Jerry Reynolds:
The gourd has grown an inch because of the heat. This is a simple observation about the growth of a gourd. This indicates the influence of temperature on its development. An elegant example of being in the moment.
Dan Campbell:
CRITIQUE OF A POEM BY GARDENER DAN
The poem’s shape mirrors the plant itself. One word per line, inching upward like a stem reaching for sunlight. No rush. No fuss. Just stillness and intention. “Today.” That’s how it starts. Just one word, but it sets the stage: this is about now. About seeing what’s right in front of you. And then, like a leaf slowly unfurling, the next few words follow—“this gourd has grown an inch.” That’s the moment. The magic. And then—right after “inch:”—comes that little pause, a turn. And then the answer: “the heat.” That’s all. Just that. And yet it says so much. That invisible, unstoppable force that shapes everything outside. We know what heat can do—it can wither, sure, but it can also push a plant upward overnight. There’s beauty in how this poem is planted. One word at a time, each line given room to breathe—spaced just enough so they don’t crowd each other. That rhythm feels familiar. It’s how gardeners move. Slow. Intentional. Always hoping.
Sitarama Seshu Maringanti
Marlene Mountain reflects on the survival instincts of every living being, including the birds, the bees, the plants and animals. In the cited haiku, the poet refers to how, in the most adversarial circumstance of heat, a gourd has grown an inch ‘today’. The haiku is contextual in the context of climate change. Despite the Agreement between nations to limit the rise of global temperatures to 1.5 degrees Celsius, there’s little in evidence to support the hopes of humanity that concrete steps are being taken by governments to achieve the goal. The gourd struggles to grow one inch in the oppressive heat of the season. There hangs an example!
Radhika De Silva—a structure to mirror the theme :
This poem by Marlene Mountain is about a simple natural phenomenon. It is written vertically, which is a visual representation of growth. In the last two lines, ‘the/ heat’ is a kigo that indicates it is summer. ‘Today’ implies both the present moment as well as transience, as growth may not be the same every day. There is hope in the poet’s mind that it will grow to the expected size and will be ready for consumption soon. It can also be considered similar to parents’ expectations of their kids’ growth. We see a cause-and-effect relationship in the poem, the heat causing the growth of the gourd. The happiness could also be temporary, as too much heat may destroy the gourd as well. The poet is very observant of a fleeting moment in nature and chooses an appropriate structure to mirror the theme.
Thanks to all who sent commentaries. As the contributor of the commentary reckoned best this week, Radhika De Silva has chosen next week’s poem, which you’ll find below. We invite you to write a commentary to it. It may be short, or of moderate length, academic, your personal response, spontaneous, or idiosyncratic. As long as it focuses on the verse presented, and with respect for the poet, all genuine reader reaction, criticism, and pertinent discussion is of value. Out-takes are kept 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:
through the fog footsteps and cane footsteps and cane — Richard Tice Kō, Autumn-Winter 1996
Footnote:
Marlene Mountain died in 2018, at the age of 68. Her bio and several of her verses may be read at the Living Haiku Anthology legacy pages. Her personal website is https://www.marlenemountain.org/.
Excerpted below is the not-to-be-missed, marvelously amusing, tongue-in-cheek “anon review” of the old tin roof, with a comment specific to “today.”. I presume the review was penned by the poet herself, though can’t be certain!
“This book by Marlene Wills [Mountain], the old tin roof, comes to us as a surprise. We had previously enjoyed a few of her earlier haiku and drawings but realized that basically she was the wife of the nature poet J.W…
First of all what we noticed was that the book would make a great memo pad. It is constructed so as to open rather nicely and can be held horizontally or vertically. There is space for yearly calendar appointments. You will notice that the book is organized to fit this need. Much space is available for notes, dates, as she has poems that might be called short or even minimal. So minimal that one is inclined to complete them if he/she was so inclined. Or even rewrite them on the blank back pages which also add to the . . .
As one studies the book one gets a feeling of poverty inherent throughout. The very title lets one know that the writer is poor, not being able to afford either a new roof or at least a good painting so the tin doesn’t show through. More of this will be mentioned later.”
Regarding this week’s poem, the reviewer writes:
“We were surprised at words written down. We all know left to right is proper and best. She must have tried to make it look like movie frames showing time release.”
You can also find two laudatory reviews of the old tin roof by Cor Van de Heuvel on her website: https://www.marlenemountain.org/backward/red/ftm100a_red_cvdh.html and https://www.marlenemountain.org/backward/ftm_102_rev_totr_cor1977.html
Marlene was generous with the details of her life, and the development of her art and haiku, in her annotated book from the mountain found on her website.
Incredibly, Marlene Mountain does not have her own Haikupedia entry, so much information about Marlene must be gleaned from that of her ex-husband’s (John Wills’) Haikupedia entry.
re:Virals is co-hosted by Shawn Blair, Melissa Dennison, Susan Yavaniski, and Keith Evetts (managing editor).
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