Sunday, September 13, 2009

Haiku #244

late summer crickets
make perfect sound of December
sleigh bells just listen

1 comment:

Patrick said...

I like your letter writing blog. It's a neat idea. It looks like you've had any number of creative responses. Before I married my wife, I wrote her one letter a day over the course of a summer.

The sheer exuberance of your website is infectious. Wow! I checked out your WordPress "writer's Laboratory". Not sure I understand what it is. I strongly prefer WordPress to Blogger by the way. I started out at Blogger and switched over.

(I wish that I could teach at the university level. I'm jealous of your resume. : )

Let's see... your Haiku. Every once in a while you come very close to the kind of Hokku the old Japanese masters would have recognized. In general though, they are not what the Japanese would consider classical haiku. They impress me as being very Western - Westernized versions of haiku. Which is to say: They reflect a Western literary tradition rather than the Eastern tradition.

The Western tradition is far more explanatory and sententious than the Eastern literary tradition, and this is reflected in the way your write haiku.

All of this may be your intention. Plenty of modern poets have taken haiku to strange new lands.

By the way, I notice you have written some on James Wright. I grew up in Woodsfield, Ohio (for the most part), then Vermont once high school started. I grew up very close to Wright's home and some of his relatives were my playmates. Whenever I read Wright, it's like read the poetry of an old friend. I know all the landmarks he knows. His landscape is in my blood, as it were.

I too love Ikku, by the way.

It seems that we share a lot of interests, including fables and fairy tales.



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"I was no better than dust, yet you cannot replace me. . . Take the soft dust in your hand--does it stir: does it sing? Has it lips and a heart? Does it open its eyes to the sun? Does it run, does it dream, does it burn with a secret, or tremble In terror of death? Or ache with tremendous decisions?. . ." --Conrad Aiken


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Fave Painting: Eden

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Fave Painting: The Three Ages of Man and Death

Fave Painting:  The Three Ages of Man and Death
by Albrecht Dürer

From the First Chapter

The Secret of Hurricanes : That article in the Waterville Scout said it was Shake- spearean, all that fatalism that guides the Kennedys' lives. The likelihood of untimely death. Recently, another one died in his prime, John-John in an airplane. Not long before that, Bobby's boy. While playing football at high speeds on snow skis. Those Kennedys take some crazy chances. I prefer my own easy ways. Which isn't to say my life hasn't been Shake-spearean. By the time I was sixteen, my life was like the darkened stage at the end of Hamlet or Macbeth. All littered with corpses and treachery.

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My Original Artwork:  Triptych



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Looking Forward, Looking Back