Haiku #18 and Living with Form

Waiting for the Bus

In the absence of
snow, our bodies cave inward,
shrinking from the cold.

****

I've been writing these haiku very sporadically for the past eleven months, and I've noticed something about living with a form. While my goal is 100, I'm taking my time getting there, because I'm waiting for the right image. It feels like I have an invisible set of antennas that are attuned to only the ideas that will slide inside the form.

For haiku, you need to have seventeen syllables (5-7-5) and traditionally they contain a reference to the season. It's this last bit that's been challenging. I feel like certain seasons are more conducive to haiku than others. (Summer was pretty dead for me, despite all the time I spent reveling in the sunshine.) I think that the seasonal element needs (for me) to have an emotional resonance, and I just seem to find more within Spring, Fall, and Winter.

But now, as I go into my second winter of haiku-ing, I'm finding that my winter imagery is changing. I'm spending more time outside (due to my bus commute) and less time observing from the window of my car or condo. Even as I write the poems, it feels different. I'm now participating in the cold, rather than just observing it. I'm hoping that this shift in perspective comes through in the poems.

I also wonder how other poets who participate in a commitment to a traditional form react to this experience. Sometimes it feels like I'm reading the same book over and over again. In some ways, it's positive because I'm learning new inflections and resonances. But in other ways, I'm just juggling the same words (or images) around.

Haiku #17 -- Among Strangers

Among Strangers

With bundled bodies,
frozen smiles, we are always
preparing for cold.

* * *

As I take public transportation every day now, I've become a bit of a student on human behavior. At least, human behavior when humans are forced to share a limited amount of space, while waking up in the morning. Lately, it's been so cold in the mornings that the 3-4 of us at the bus stop have to move around to keep our toes and fingers warm. We may chat, in monosyllabic phrases about the weather, but we still have to keep that weird polite distance that we call Minnesota nice. The above haiku is inspired by this awkward morning ritual.

Two Fall Haiku (or Requiem for Summer)

Fall has already arrived in Minnesota with a loud cold *snap*. I woke this morning to frost on the neighbor's rooftops and a brisk chill in our building's hallways. With the season's early change, I've been writing (and reciting) these two haiku beneath my breath for the past two days.

This morning, I decided to take a quick walk and take some pictures to accompany them. I wore flip flops and my toes got so cold I had to run back inside. I miss summer already.



Becoming Dormant

Flowers don't sour
at summer's end, they reveal
their brittle brown husks.


* * *



Awakened

Haze evaporates
to crystalline blue skies. Clear
light breaks through thick clouds.

* * *
To see more pictures taken on this morning's inspiration walk, go to my flickr site!

#14 -- Walls

Walls

Crimson brick facades
store the day's heat, radiate
gentle waves, outwards.

#13 -- Summer Starts In

Summer Starts In

humid alleyways,
and garbage-scented breezes,
sour as spoiled lilacs.

#12 -- Sidewalk Garden

For the past couple of days, I've been posting haiku that are inspired by a recent walk I took in my neighborhood with my digital camera. I live about 4 blocks from downtown Minneapolis, so most of my neighborhood is comprised of apartment buildings and stores. However, in a hill above my house there are some really lovely city houses with gardens. This is where I took the majority of my pictures.

This has also helped me to get a jump start on my 100 Haiku project, because it had been pretty stalled. I've been trying to write 100 urban inspired haiku, with a focus on the seasons, as is traditional with haiku. However, it seemed like winter was a more evocative season for the city, until I found these flowers. Click on the 100 Haiku label to read the others. Enjoy!



Sidewalk Garden

In concrete confines,
a manufactured chorus,
voices singing spring.

#11 -- City Flowers

City Flowers

are like scarlet soldiers,
standing silent sentry at
our black gated homes.

#10-- Spring Flower

Spring Flower

Yellow petals curled,
beckoning fingers. Flower
whispers, Come closer.

#9 Freeway Overpass

I was having a bit of difficulty with this week's Poetry Thursday
prompt of "rivers." Even though we passed many rivers in Iowa this weekend, I just didn't feel a connection to the image. Then, this morning on my walk in my neighborhood, I watched the freeway full of commuters and realized that there are many different types of rivers.

Freeway Overpass

I cross the one-way
river, crowded with cars, stalled
as I am today.

#8 -- Midnight Walk in May

Midnight Walk in May

I sense spring in hints
of blooming lilac and faint
lightning behind clouds.

#7 -- Two Old Men's Bedroom

It's been awhile since I've done a haiku. I was afraid that I was only inspired by the wintry landscapes. Being a transplanted Minnesotan, that makes sense. However, I was able to knock one out this weekend, so I must have just been dormant.

Two Old Men's Bedroom

Patch of green beneath
a concrete overpass sky. Still,
narrow light seeps through.

#6 -- Today

This is the second of many posts, I'm sure, over the next weekend. Love the snow days -- I'm actually planning on being bored for once. Boredom, of course, breeds writing. This is a very Minnesotan haiku. After almost 15 years of living here (on and off), I think I can now finally, identify myself as one of them.

This picture was taken outside of my building this afternoon. So far, we have 9.5 inches in my city, and up to 11 out in the 'burbs.

Today

We unbury our
selves, shovel burdens and
pray for them to melt.

#5 -- Seeking Solace at a Stoplight

I've been having this obsession about the way the sky looks, lately. I can always tell how cold it is by the way the sky looks in the morning or coming home from work. The beauty of winter is that almost every day the sky looks different. So, almost every day, a new image occurs to me.

Seeking Solace at a Stoplight

Silhouette of bare

tree limbs, grasping the silver

sky. Hold me, they say.

#4 -- Above the Buildings, I See

I'm noticing that with these haiku, I'm becoming more observant. There is always this thought in the back of my head that I'm gathering images for the haiku. Then, when I see those things that make me think, "That would be good for a poem," I don't have to store them up and wait. I can simply address the image in 17 syllables.

I also like that I'm becoming more aware of nature. Since haiku technically have to have a reference to the season within the lines, I have to connect myself to what's going on outside of the hum of traffic jams and people. This, so far, has been an interesting practice. At least that's what I think at number 4. Talk to me at number 46.

Above the Buildings, I See

Waxing crescent moon

in cobalt dawn skies and I

pray for early light.

#3 -- Our First Storm of the Season

This morning, when I woke up, we had finally been hit with snow. We're down 30 inches this season, which is difficult on us sadomasochistic Minnesotans. Even though I knew it would be a traffic nightmare to get to work, there was something that was so peaceful and unexpected about waking up to a street, glowing blue-white with snow.

I wrote this while I was stuck in traffic on the way to work, on a small notepad that a friend of mine bought for me in Japan. Very dangerous, but in this case, necessary before the haiku flitted away.

Our First Storm of the Season

When we woke today,
streets were swathed in snow, erased.
Everything has changed.

#2 -- On the Interstate Commute

Winter finally arrived in Minnesota. This weekend, it's supposed to be 15 below, before the windchill. As our garage door opened this morning, I could see heat waves dancing on my windshield, over the boundary between inside and outside.

I don't know why I choose to live here, when it gets this dangerously cold.

On the Interstate Commute

This biting winter

morning, white exhaust plumes trail

cars clogging black roads.

#1 -- Friday Night in January, Uptown

I don't know what it is about my need for lists and numbered things, but I love them. I had a flash of inspiration this week. I decided that I want to write 100 Urban Haiku, just for practice and because I can. I don't know how long this will take me. I don't know what the shape of the project will be. But, I should become familiar with the unknown. At least, that's what my writer friends tell me.

I'll post my results up here, when I have them.

Friday Night in January, Uptown

Bare legged girls laugh
like a murder of crows. High
heels slip on black ice.