November 27 (Deep autumn)

deep autumn
learning to live
with the dark

(originally posted at Haiku-doodle as a comment to Margaret Dornaus’s blog post “Deep Autumn“)


I’m continuing what has apparently become my Thanksgiving week tradition of saving myself the work of writing a whole new haiku every day by stealing from myself. Specifically, by stealing the haiku I have dribbled around in other places across the Interwebs, like Facebook and Twitter and other people’s blogs. (I did change the line breaks here a little from the original. Does that make me less pitiful?)

I might do this for a few more days, at least until I finish my stupid novel, or the 50,000 words of it I’m supposed to have written by the end of the month anyhow.

(In case you were suspecting me of violating my sacred vow to write haiku every day, I am still scribbling the things down, but I would not be so cruel as to force you to read anything I’ve written lately.)

August 23: Three more of one


spitting watermelon seeds          the dark spits back


the grasshopper rises so slowly — I think I must be dreaming


the Buddha hides behind the fence where the chickens peck feed

August 2: Found haiku: Macbeth

In the last ten days I’ve seen five performances of “Macbeth” with four different casts. So many lines of the play have become earworms for me, especially those (and there are so many in this play) that use either sound or imagery (or both) to gorgeous effect. For instance (in no particular order):

•    If the assassination could trammel up the consequence, and catch, with its surcease, success …
•    Weary sennights nine times nine shall he dwindle, peak, and pine …
•    Tonight we hold a solemn supper, sir …
•    Stars, hold your fires; let not light see my black and deep desires …
•    There’s husbandry in heaven; their candles are all out.
•    It will have blood, they say; blood will have blood. Stones have been known to move and trees to speak …
•    By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes. Open, locks, whoever knocks.
•    Safe in a ditch he lies, with twenty trenched gashes in his head.

Some of the lines echoed in my head in the same way that some haiku does, which made me wonder if you could pummel iambic pentameter into haiku. I’m not sure how well these meet the technical definition of haiku (whatever that is), but they do seem to have something of the haiku spirit in them. And Shakespeare and Basho were (rough) contemporaries … so that must mean something.


the earth hath bubbles as the water has

the moon is down
I have not heard
the clock

the obscure bird
the livelong night

the shard-borne beetle
with his drowsy hums …
night’s yawning peal

light thickens …
the crow makes wing
to th’ rooky wood

untie the winds
and let them fight
against the churches

I have words      that would be howl’d out in the desert air

August 1: 1-3: Three of one


I can’t remember where I got this scar, or that one, or that one.


streetlights switch on        the child runs away from his mother


Cassiopeia     she refuses to stand next to her lover


Over at Troutswirl right now there is a great discussion about one-line haiku.

There are links to several other discussions of the subject, and several enlightening comments. Among other interesting points:

  • The late, great Bill Higginson seemed to think that if there were spaces in your one-line haiku, it wasn’t really a one-line haiku (because you were indicating, apparently, where a line break could go, and so why not write it in more than one line). To me, this seems to ignore the visual advantage to displaying a ku all in one line — it can be scanned more rapidly by the reader so gives more of a sense of wholeness or urgency, yet sometimes you still want to give a visual cue as to where a pause should occur.
  • Marlene Mountain has a page where a number of her ku are displayed both as three lines and as one, so you can decide which way you think works better.
  • Jim Kacian categorizes several of the effects that can be achieved by English one-line haiku (“one line–one thought,” “speedrush” and “multi- stops”). (Click on the big X:2 on the linked page to download the issue of “Roadrunner” this essay appears in.)
  • Charles Trumbull, in a July 29 comment, makes the sensible observation (I say it’s sensible because it’s what I think myself) that “[b]ecause of the internal rhythm of the material, sometimes one line works best. Period.” (He is slightly cranky about people imitating Japanese poetry or referring to historical precedent to justify their one-liners.)

I keep finding more and more that if I am having a great deal of trouble with a ku, transforming it to one line frequently instantly solves my problem. This is when I say that the ku “wanted” to be one line.

Also, I think I am still treating American sentences and one-line haiku as more or less interchangeable, though they’re not, really. I mean, number 1 above seems clearly to be an American sentence to me; the other 2 one-line haiku. Must think more about this …

July 30: 1-4: The Technique of Above as Below

(See this post for an explanation of what’s going on here.)


“… Some say one should be able to read the first line and the third line to find it makes a complete thought. Sometimes one does not know in which order to place the images in a haiku. When the images in the first and third lines have the strongest relationship, the haiku usually feels ‘complete.’ For exercise, take any haiku and switch the lines around to see how this factor works, or try reading the haiku without the second line.

holding the day
between my hands
a clay pot”

– Jane Reichhold, Haiku Techniques



This was way harder than it looked. And it looked hard.

I think part of the problem was that I really loved Jane’s example and none of my efforts came anywhere near her standard. I even resorted to breaking down her ku into parts of speech hoping that would provide some sort of formula for success:

gerund, noun object
prepositional phrase
modifier, noun

It didn’t.

But now I am a little bit obsessed with making one of these work, somehow, sometime. Anyone else got anything?


summer rain
one leftover cloud

watching your eyes
by moonlight
the summer stars

a tree full
squirrels making lists
of supplies

night sheltering
from sunrise
our dark words