re:Virals 548
“More difficult than making your own verses interesting is understanding those of others…” ―Shinkei (1406 –1475). Citing this, Onitsura (1661 – 1738) wrote: “…this should be a way in which a person is completely given over to training.”
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 Keith Evetts. This week’s poem, chosen by David Cox was:
dog park everyone about everybody’s business — Michael Henry Lee Asahi Haikuist Network, July 4, 2025
Introducing this poem, David writes:
The tool of humour is a tricky one to execute effectively in Japanese short form poetry. However, when it hits home the vulgar can become sublime. The poem itself is busy with multiple meanings and steaming with potential interpretations.
Host comment (Keith):
In the world of haikai, not every verse has to be a literary work of art. Nor evoke profound melancholy, or mawkish sentimentality, or lyrical or romantic beauty. The ability to raise a smile, with which Michael Henry Lee is well endowed, is a gift also. Humour is a characteristic of the genre. All the more valuable in these deadening times, sensationalised in the daily news.
“Business” related to dogs is a euphemism for poop. On a first quick read, you might think the verse is no more than a play on that. But there’s more to this detached senryu than meets the nose. “Dog park” is not merely a setting. On one side of the cut, it’s a comparison. “Everyone about everybody’s business” summons up not just the curiosity of dogs decoding scents of other dogs, but that of their owners—people—too. Our curiosity, our penchant for gossip in our world, is equated with dogs behaving naturally in theirs.
And so I came back, after all, from wagging tails via wagging tongues to current affairs. To newshounds off the leash questing for sensation. Trying to get to the bottom of things. Frequently a smelly business. The media, a dog park.
On technique and choices, I hope there’ll be a comment from Michael, but as I see it the opening words “dog park” are sufficiently arresting to attract a reader’s attention. Use of “everyone” and “everybody’s” both avoids repetition and introduces people and a hint of bodily matter, and while the single enjambed word “business” on the last line is syntactically clunky, it does draw attention to that vital word. All suggestive of a seasoned versifier.
Well done Michael. We need more verses that prompt a smile rather than a groan, that take us beyond repetitive ritual genuflection to the beauties of nature, beyond the deadening barrage of loss, sorrow, death and grief. I enjoyed ruminating and writing about it.
Urszula Marciniak:
Not all dogs live happily, but many do. And we humans are constantly surrounded by problems and worries. It’s somehow easier to share everything with those who also have a dog. When I walk down a deserted street at night and see a stranger, I get anxious. But when I see a dog next to them, I feel safe. Of course, not all pet owners are friendly, but most are. I know all the dogs in my neighborhood by name, but I can’t say the same about all my neighbors. A dog also helps shy young people make friends. Introverts feel safe and not alone with a dog.
Dog park or human park? Dogs understand and love us, but can we give them the same? Most of us try. Let’s spend more time at the dog park. It will benefit us even more than it does our pets.
Alan Harvey:
A dog park is about socialization as much as anything for the dog and the owner. The first line of this haiku is the setting’s ‘where’. Confident and friendly dogs are ideal for the dog park. They can socialize and get exercise in a safe, outdoor environment. Dogs with anxiety or fear may not benefit from the park.
Owners are equally able to socialize at the dog park. Meeting other dog owners forms new friendships and facilitate an exchange of ideas.
Debating whether this is a haiku or senryu might be fun. Focusing on the dog suggests this is a haiku with its natural outdoor setting. Dogs communicate with more than their tail wags. The “everyone about everybody’s business” could be a dog sniffing another dog’s butt. That provides a little humor in the haiku. Debating the merits of reading this as a senryu, fellow dog owners are gossips overseeing the park and evaluating other people and their dogs. The setting may be a dog park but the conclusions are about the people at the park.
I suspect Michael Henry Lee is thinking about the gossipy senryu rather than the sniffing haiku. I look forward to hearing from the poet.
Sudha Devi Nayak:
Dog parks are fields of Elysium for dogs, to be themselves to lead an unfettered life for a brief while, to be let loose to run, play and socialize with their fellow beings. There is the sun, the shade, the centers with dog food and water stations. Leading circumscribed lives forever in a controlled environment, always on watch, always at the beck and call of people around, these are moments of complete freedom, and abandon denied to them.
They are used to a regimented life subject to the emotions of their owners, their attentions, their irritations and cold indifference, sensing their moods, keeping pace with their thoughts. Theirs is a steadfast loyalty, a quiet kind of love that is hard to explain and harder to lose. And yet and yet they long for some freedom.
This too is a meeting place for the dog owners, a social rendezvous, an opportunity to meet friends and find connections, casual conversations, tête-á-têtes. They are as much off leash, relax and talk of things as they are and things that were. Political news, local gossip, human tales of everyday joys and travails. The beauty of small memorable moments and ineffable sadness. In a fractious world these are islands of peace, and blessed moments of serenity and the quiet reassurance they would come again, talk about their pets, talk about themselves, the others and the world. Meanwhile life would just go on. The haikuist has done a great job translating a mere occurence into a beautiful interlude
Radhamani Sarma:
Immense thanks to Haiku Foundation for giving us a topic simple, yet thought provoking.
In the ancient past, we had trucks, coolies, cycles rikshaws pulled by cycles, and wheels, their own space to park. With the passage of time, we had with the advent of technology and corresponding infrastructure, cars and scooters, their own covered and open slots, parking space elevated car parks etc; what we see here is a different park. When man forsakes, dogs and pets kindle our affection and sympathy.
Here dog park is a fenced place, secured and free; for owners to bring their dogs to play, to mingle and mate , a sort of freedom uncurbed, at the same time within a check by the masters. It is my humble opinion an infrastructure and facility unavailable in India.
The second line leading on to third line, switches from animals to humans, encompassing a special cosmopolitan outlook, at the same time free interplay to pry into everybody’s business. It is a place for dogs, yet, every one has a time, mindset, outlook to delve, discuss, to comment, to criticize; the question arises “what?” In “everybody” there is so much of connotation compressed; the choicest word by the writer. In “everybody” the denoted meaning is all topics from silly to serious, personal and private to their jobs, domestic affairs, love and romance, romping and shopping, writing to wriggle, etc.
When dogs tied to their masters, within control, or let loose within fence, have their own sweet time; at the same time, these discussions, the so called perambulations on worldly matters, initiated by masters, go on and on. On the one hand, dogs intermingle, the other side human beings talk, walk, discuss on all matters without check. Like human beings, dogs also need some time for fun and play.
Cezar Ciobica:
Imagine a dog park where owners bring their four-legged friends to socialize in their own obvious way. Another thing that happens is that people gather there to meet old friends or to meet other people with whom they can communicate on various topics of the day, whether it’s about their pets, politics, the weather, fashion, etc. In general, there is a lot of gossip, everyone is an expert in almost everything, they would do anything in their power to probably even change the world order. What this poem seems to be trying to say is that animals are people too and that people are animals, gathered in a place where they interact in a pleasant way, the others on the sidelines, passersby, having the opportunity to see sequences of an interesting show. Beyond the surface, the shiny packaging, however, between the lines one feels that everything is artificial, banal, that happiness is only very well mimicked, that enough puzzle pieces are missing to build the image of a perfect life. People are actually strangers caught in the net of alienation, they know everything about everyone else’s affairs, but they know almost nothing about themselves, because they are empty inside, like soulless machines…
Uma Padmanabhan—collective behaviour observed:
This haiku offers a compact yet layered observation of social behavior in a shared public space. With just three lines, it captures both the physical environment of a dog park and the subtle dynamics of human interaction within it. The opening line, “dog park,” is spare and grounding, immediately situating the reader in a familiar, informal setting where structure is relaxed and movement is constant. It evokes openness—not just of space, but of behavior.
The second line, “Everyone about everybody’s,” introduces a sense of entanglement. The phrasing is intentionally dense and slightly awkward, mimicking the overlapping energies of the park itself. Dogs roam freely, sniffing and circling one another, while their owners observe, chat, and quietly monitor both pets and people. The line suggests a collective attentiveness that borders on intrusion, where individual boundaries begin to blur.
The final word, “business,” delivers the poem’s subtle punch. It carries a dual meaning that enriches the haiku’s effect. On one level, it refers to the mild social nosiness that emerges in communal spaces—people watching, forming quick impressions, and involving themselves, however lightly, in others’ affairs. On another level, it humorously alludes to the literal “business” of dogs, a shared and unavoidable aspect of the setting. This double entendre ties the human and animal worlds together, suggesting that both operate under a similar kind of open scrutiny.
Stylistically, the haiku leans into compression and implication. There are no verbs, yet the poem feels active, full of motion and interaction. The lack of explicit action allows the reader to fill in the scene, making the experience participatory. The slight syntactic tension in the middle line reinforces the theme, as the structure itself becomes crowded, reflecting the social closeness it describes.
Overall, the haiku succeeds in transforming a mundane, even humorous moment into a small commentary on collective behavior. It suggests that in shared environments, especially informal ones, privacy becomes porous and attention becomes communal. The tone remains light and observant rather than critical, allowing the humor and insight to emerge naturally from the scene.
Author Michael Henry Lee:
dog park was spontaneously written, I don’t recall it having a single edit. I live about 2 miles from the biggest, most impressive dog park in our area and I consistently pass by on my way to here and there. The poem jelled on one of my numerous trips past the park. Being an animal lover the interaction dogs enjoy between each other and their humans is most gratifying. The comic antics of dogs going about their business both organic and socially is a hoot. Perhaps that’s why I’m a cat valet. At any rate, combine the dogs’ behavior with each other, and their humans gossiping amongst themselves.

Thanks to all who sent commentaries. As the contributor of the commentary reckoned best this week, Uma has chosen next week’s poem, which you’ll find below. We invite you to write a commentary to it. It may be short, to a maximum of 500 words (succinctness will be valued); 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:
condo living grandpa learns to turn bonsai soil —Archie G. Carlos Haiku Foundation, Haiku Dialogue, December 31, 2025.
Footnote:
Michael Henry Lee is an internationally recognized, award-winning haiku poet whose work is frequently published in many online and print journals. He’s been a guest editor of the late lamented Failed Haiku, serves as mentor in the HSA Mentorship Program, and recently retired as HSA SE Region Coordinator after 7 years.
Recent accomplishments include Third Prize in the 15th Polish International Haiku Competition, June 2025 Cornell University Mann Library Daily Haiku Poet Of The Month and Third Most Popular poet in the 2024 Heron’s Nest Readers’ Poll.
re:Virals is co-hosted by Shawn Blair, Melissa Dennison, Susan Yavaniski, and Keith Evetts (managing editor).
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Received via the submission form from Yuuki Hara of Kagoshima, after the post was published:
“At first glance, this poem feels light, almost playful. But as I sat with it, a deeper layer began to emerge.
It captures that familiar, boundaryless curiosity of dogs, the way they investigate one another’s “business” without a second thought. But then the focus shifts. We realize the dogs aren’t the only ones watching. The owners are doing the exact same thing.
What struck me most is how the distance between the two species just seems to vanish. What we usually dismiss as “gossip” or “nosiness” in humans feels, in this setting, like an extension of the dogs’ instincts. It stops feeling like an intrusion and starts to look like something more fundamental: a natural way of existing within each other’s presence.
The word “business” is the perfect anchor here. It’s physical and visceral, but it’s also social, and maybe even transactional. It reflects that quiet, constant circulation of attention in shared spaces. We’re always observing, always sizing each other up.
The poem doesn’t judge. It just holds up a mirror. It leaves us with the realization that what we’re watching isn’t separate from us at all. We’re all caught in that same loop of information and instinct.”
Thank you, Yuuki.