I’m back in the garden of the Inn at Queen Anne. Taking a break. Writing to you. My brain is too full not to dump a little of it out onto the page. So here’s the story of yesterday.
On my way to register for HNA at the Seattle Center, I met Susan Diridoni in the courtyard…
We talked one-line haiku and infuriating politicians. Two of our favorite subjects.
monomania the cure for wildflowers
First on the agenda after registration was a walk to the Olympic Sculpture Park down by the harbor. Michael Dylan Welch had a camera permanently attached to his face so the only picture of him I was able to get was one I took while he was taking a picture of me.
Debbie Kolodji and I found ourselves reflected in one of the sculptures….
I’m not sure if our reflections count as “touching” in the eyes of those who wrote this warning sign. I also find it interesting to ponder the difference between visual art, which can indeed be harmed by indiscriminate touching, and haiku, which haiku poets encourage our readers to put their grubby little hands all over, knowing that will only make it more interesting.
It’s Fleet Week in Seattle, so there were ominous-looking ships mulling around the harbor. On the plus side, they interacted well with the sculpture.
These flowers were everywhere, growing low all over the ground. I love them. Somebody tell me what they are.
This was my favorite sculpture. Anyone under the age of 35 who knows what it is gets a prize.
Debbie Kolodji and Carlos Colon were hard to keep up with sometimes. Especially when they were trying to avoid having their pictures taken.
We went in the Viviarium, where they keep a big dead tree trunk that has living stuff growing all over it (very symbolic) and where they have mushroom tiles on the walls, which made me happy.
This metal-plated tree enchanted me, if only because I don’t like to let well enough alone where nature is concerned.
Back at the Seattle Center, Michael showed us this stone with a haiku of Basho’s engraved on it. (Rhyming couplet, awesome.)
Went out for a late lunch/early dinner with a few people, then back to the hotel, where Charlie Trumbull and Jim Kacian were scheming in the courtyard. (All their schemes were legal and ethical. I checked.)
Then to a dessert reception and open mic reading at the Seattle Center, where I met people at a ferocious rate.
… Wonderful people.
(Lidia Rozmus [my wonderful roommate], Wanda Cook, Carlos Colon, Don Wentworth, Marjorie Buettner, Sarah and Gene Myers, Marilyn Hazelton)
(David Lanoue, Susan Diridoni, Richard Gilbert, Carolyn Hall, Jim Kacian, Carlos Colon, Carmen Sterba, Penny Harter)
I talked until my throat got sore, and then I went off to a gendai haiku writing workshop and talked a whole bunch more.
Here we all (okay, about half of us) are listening to Emiko Miyashita telling us about gendai haiku in Japanese. (That’s Charlie Trumbull, Garry Gay, Kathy Munro, Billie Dee, Sheila Sondik, Jim Westenhaver, Emiko Miyashita)
At the end we all tried our hand at writing more gendai, and I finally managed to get a picture of Michael without a camera in front of his face.
It was past eleven by the time we finished. Wild and crazy haiku poets, that’s us.
A few of us had a late-night snack, and by the time I got to bed it was about three in the morning in Wisconsin. Which is the time that counts, after all.
I’ll write about today tomorrow. See how that works?
Hope you’re all having a great time whether you’re in Seattle or not.
17 thoughts on “Haiku North America, Day 1”
so fun. I’d ku, but the net connection is way too finicky. oh oh I know I know. …well I think I do… it’s a Clas Oldenburg! cool sculpture, yes. oh. may be I should erase this as I’ll be over 35 this year… bwahahaha.
you do an awesome job on the photos and names. way fun and aloha too you all.
Well, yeah, Claes Oldenburg made the sculpture…but what does it represent? 🙂 (I’m sure you know.)
ha. hmmm… if in had a type writer font on here may be I could show you with all the misspellings I use. …unless of course you are talking about a more existential concept… or… something else I suppose…
Yeah, I just meant the typewriter eraser…we were speculating as we looked at it about what percentage of viewers would have no idea what this weird-looking thing was for.
yeah. i didnt want to come right out and say that because i knew i was going to be older than 35 this year.
as a group of creatures we sure have a lot of gadgets (as well as other things) that come into and go out of existence all the time.
how old do you think someone has to be to remember word prefixes before a 5 digit phone number? Sherwood 3-5762 or Plaza 8-2291 for example?
btw. what’s a typewriter?
Well, I don’t remember them, but that hasn’t stopped me from being nostalgic for them my entire life. I’m irrational like that.
Thanks for the play-by-play. It’s like I’m there tagging along–loved the public art, their whimsy and the backdrop of austerity with those navy ships in the bay. . . and that tree locked inside the metal skin of winter. To serve and protect. Some comfort in seeing so many poets and flowers strewn between. Profiles of people snapped quickly without them knowing. I wondered about what shoes they filled.
gathering I attend
I don’t know how you manage to turn even blog comments into poetry, Peter, but somehow you do.
a red dragonfly skims
across the sound
Thank you for the eye-witness account, Melissa. Am loving the party pics. and random observations. Keep them coming . . . .
Thanks, Margaret. Wish you could have been there!
Also…what a fantastic ku! Thanks so much for sharing!
Grateful thanks, Melissa, so fun to see you/everyone/there! Your sharing is very appreciated!
Thanks, Tom. Hope I can make Haiku Circle again next year to catch up with you east coasters.
Thanks for sharing. Though i’ve started feeling seriously jealous of you!
Thanks, Sanjuktaa! Hope we can meet in person some day.
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