Finding Room to Grow

Finding Room to Grow

In previous posts I have written about a slowly growing awareness among those interested in syllabic, formal, haiku that they need their own journals, their own online spaces, etc., to share their haiku.  There is a sense of a parting of the ways, that syllabic haiku needs to go its own way.

I think a useful metaphor here is ecology.  Syllabic haiku is crowded out by other types of haiku such as free verse, one-liners, and consciously avant-garde approaches.  It is sidelined and left malnourished.  The specific skills, needs, and approaches of someone wanting to take a formal approach to haiku are not nourished in a free verse context and for this reason formal haiku tends to wither in a free verse setting.

Not all plants can grow in the same garden.  And not all forms of poetry flourish in the same setting.  To show what I mean by this I would like to contrast two series of haiku.  Think of them as excerpts from hypothetical anthologies.  I have chosen to use hypothetical anthologies because there is, at this time, no anthology of formal, syllabic, haiku.  So I wanted to contrast the two anthologies on an equal footing.  First, here are some haiku from a possible free verse haiku anthology:

in my silver

wedding shoes

. . spider webs

          Carol Montgomery

          (Haiku Moment page 138)

Slow swing of willows through my own fault

          Patrick Sweeney

          (Haiku in English page 239)

The sky is all black

then light comes slowly, slowly

while the cat watches

          Edith Shiffert

          (The Light Comes Slowly, Preface)

low tide

all the people

stoop

          Anita Virgil

          (Haiku Anthology page 243)

a single shoe

in the median

rush hour

          Elizabeth Searle Lamb

          (The Unswept Path page 140)

I have gleaned these haiku from published anthologies, with the exception of the haiku from Shiffert, which is from a collection of her haiku.  My purpose was to create a sequence that does not reflect my own taste.  All of these haiku have passed editors’ criteria of what makes a good free verse haiku.

Compare the above selection with the selection that follows:

Water registered

the quarrel of clouds and moon

with sudden blackout –

          Helen Chenoweth

          (Pageant of Seasons page 85)

The boys are in school;

fall leaves – the only swimmers

in the swimming pool

          Margot Bollock

          (Borrowed Water page 81

The sky is all black

then light comes slowly, slowly

while the cat watches

          Edith Shiffert

          (The Light Comes Slowly, Preface)

Night below zero,

And the long valley’s echo

The sound of the stars.

          David Hoopes

          (Alaska in Haikupage 65)

What makes them do it –

jaywalkers in dark clothing

at night, in the rain?

          Mary Jo Salter

          (Nothing by Design page 60)

Both series share the haiku by Edith Shiffert, the third one that begins ‘The sky is all black’.  In the first series the Shiffert haiku is surrounded by free verse haiku.  In the second series the Shiffert haiku is surrounded by formal haiku.  What effect do the different surroundings have on the Shiffert haiku?

In the first series the Shiffert haiku reads like a free verse haiku.  If you do not perceive this, try to look at the series through the eyes of someone completely new to haiku in English.  Because all of the haiku in the first series have different shapes, because none of them share any common formal features, the formal nature of Shiffert’s haiku is lost.  Someone new to haiku would not be able to discern the formal foundation of Shiffert’s approach.

In the second series all of the haiku share the same formal shape.  They are all syllabic.  They all share the three line 5-7-5 syllabic contours.  If someone completely new to haiku were to read the second series they could quickly and easily discern the formal nature of the poems.  In terms of Shiffert’s haiku, the formal connection to the other haiku is revealed, and therefore the underlying commitment to a formal approach emerges.  This adds a dimension to the reading which the first series does not have.

What I want to suggest is that the ecology of the two series differs.  The first series is an ecology that is defined by free verse.  It is an ecology that validates and encourages the growth of free verse haiku.   When a formal haiku in 5-7-5 is placed in such a series the particulars of formal haiku are lost and overshadowed by the surrounding free verse poems.  That is why it is so unsatisfying to have a formal haiku placed in an anthology of predominantly free verse haiku, or placed in a haiku journal that consists predominantly of free verse.

The ecology of the second series, in contrast, is an ecology that encourages formal haiku and the methods that give rise to formal haiku.  The syllabic structure, the underlying rhythm, the foundational counting, are present as dominant, even essential, features.  There is a sharing of these features as you move from haiku to haiku in the second series that is absent from the first series.  And there is a sense of communal understanding as to the nature of the haiku form implicit in such a series.  There is no sense of shared understanding in the first series.

From a free verse haiku perspective the need for distinct regions for formal haiku doesn’t make sense.  The free verse view is that they do, in fact, publish 5-7-5 haiku, so what is the problem?  The problem is that free verse has a corrosive effect on the form; the reader, particularly the new reader, cannot see the form because of the surroundings.  In a free verse context the 5-7-5 syllabics is perceived as adventitious and arbitrary.  In the context of a series of formal haiku, the 5-7-5 syllabics as seen as the ground from which the individual formal haiku blossom.

For a long time now, formal haijin have accepted the dominance of free verse haijin in ELH organizations and journals and have routinely submitted their haiku for publication and have, sometimes with reluctance, participated in such organizations.  But the felt uneasiness with this situation has become more articulate.  Formal haiku cannot grow in the ecology that is offered to it by organizations like the HSA and publications like ‘Modern Haiku’.  Formal haiku begins with different procedures, has different esthetic criteria, and presents itself in different ways. 

Slowly some spaces are being opened where an ecology in which formal haiku can grow is being found.  This is a two-step process.  The first step is the realization that free verse haiku and formal haiku have, over time, diverged to such an extent that they have, in fact, become different forms of poetry.  The second step is to follow through on that realization and create actual places that cultivate a formal approach to haiku.  This second step is just beginning; it is tentative and a little unsure of itself.  I think of it is a sunrise, a slow dawn, where details of the landscape are still being discerned.  Over time, I think, it will become clearer as the ecology which supports syllabic haiku emerges.

Eastern Structures -- A Review

Eastern Structures – A Review

For the past maybe three to five years I have noticed that poets who are interested in a syllabic approach to eastern forms, such as haiku, tanka, ghazal, etc., have expressed a need to find locations, spaces, venues, where a formal approach to these forms in English is emphasized instead of undermined.  Almost all poetry journals and poetry societies dedicated to Eastern Forms are controlled by poets who use a free verse approach to lineation.  To pick a good example, English language haiku associations and journals are, without exception, devoted to a free verse approach to haiku in English even though haiku in Japanese is formal verse.

I think the first explicit expression of dissatisfaction with this situation was in the ‘Introduction’ to Ravishing DisUnities by Ali where he criticizes the tendency of contemporary English poets to write free verse versions of the ghazal.  Ali’s criticism is sharp, but it is also one that is knowledgeable of the traditional ghazal form and that this form has potential in English.  Ali was fluent in English and was comfortable writing in it and for that reason he was speaking from personal experience with the form in the English language, even though English was not his native tongue.  Ali was not saying that the ghazal has no place in English language poetry; rather he was suggesting that if English language poets are going to compose ghazal they should map onto English the formal features of that traditional form.

In ELH (English Language Haiku) the dominance of a free verse approach in official haiku organizations and publications is almost total.  The result is that those who take a syllabic approach to ELH find themselves gradually alienated from those official organizations.  Most of them simply move online and find others of like mind there.

The felt need for those taking a formal approach to these types of poetry to find their own spaces and journals has been gathering energy for some time. But exactly how to go about this has not been clear.  With the publication of Eastern Structures this inchoate feeling has finally born fruit in something concrete.  Published by R. W. Watkins, Eastern Structures is dedicated to a formal approach to such Eastern forms as Haiku, Tanka, Ghazal, and Sijo.  The first issue packs a lot of material into its 32 pages of 8-1/2” X 11”.  The ghazal are finely crafted and formally focused.  The haiku are seasonal, syllabic, and rooted in the traditional syllabics of the Japanese.  The article and examples of tanka are similarly focused.  I would say that the only weak section in this first issue is the section on sijo, the Korean form.  Watkins notes that he had difficulty contacting people who have written in this form, so if you are interested, or know others who are interested, forward information about this new poetry publication to them because they now have a place to publish their efforts in the sijo form.

Watkins has done a fine job with the layout and other publication matters.  Watkins has published poetry zines before (particularly for the ghazal) and this experience has served him well for this first issue of Eastern Structures. For example, the cover is of a famous skyscraper in Malaysia, the world’s tallest building; a reference to the name of the magazine, Eastern Structures.  And the back cover is a picture of a farm woman holding a lynx; a clever reference to Lynx, which was published by Jane and Werner Reichhold for 30 years, a poetry journal that emphasized the same forms that Watkins is interested in.  I like the way Watkins gives the Reichholds a bow in this picture.

The poetry is a pleasure to read.  I have some of my own work included in the section on tanka and I hope others feel the same way about my contribution.  The essays are thoughtful, sometimes funny, and in general optimistic about the potential for a syllabic approach to these forms. 

If you are interested in a formal approach to Eastern forms in English, this is a great resource.  If you are a poet who is writing in these forms, Eastern Structures is a great venue for you to publish in.  If you have essays, reviews, or thoughts to share with this focus, this is the place to share them with an appreciative audience.  You can send submissions to:

nocturnaliris@gmail.com

Watkins has decided to use print-on-demand to publish Eastern Structures.  It is available from Amazon for $5.99 – a great deal.  Buy a copy for yourself, buy copies for friends, and post reviews at Amazon. 

In closing I want to express my appreciation to Watkins for taking the time and effort to bring forth this publication.  As someone who has published poetry magazines in the past, I know how much time and energy goes into such an endeavor.  All of us who are interested in a formal approach to haiku, tanka, sijo, and ghazal can applaud this effort.

Eastern Structures

Editor: R. W. Watkins

Available at Amazon

$5.99

ISBN: 9781530638406

On Publishing

On Publishing

At the store where I work, a spiritual book and tea shop, we host events every Thursday.  A few weeks ago we hosted a poetry reading with two Native American poets; Kim Shuck and Duane Big Eagle.  It was an inspiring evening of poetry.

In talking with Duane Big Eagle both before and after the reading he informed me that he does not publish his poetry.  I know that some of his poetry has been anthologized, and he seems willing to let that happen.  But he has not made any effort to have a collection of his poetry published even though he is fairly well known in California and his poetry is admired.

I have run into this before.  It isn’t common, but I have seen it with a few poets; this reluctance to publish.  The quintessential example is Emily Dickinson.  Bill Albert is another example that I discovered recently.  He died in the late 80’s and his haiku were published by friends who gathered his haiku into book form.  Albert himself never made any effort to publish his haiku either in book form or by submitting them to haiku journals.  The Chinese poet Han Shan (Cold Mountain) is another example; his poems were gathered together by others and published after Han Shan died.  If you look for poets who were reluctant to publish you can find them here and there.

Talking to Duane Big Eagle gave me an occasion to think about my own mixed history with publication.  Early in my writing of renga I submitted some of my solo renga for publication.  Some were accepted by various haiku magazines.  Some were rejected, but the rejections were always very helpful and detailed.  I still have some annotations by Robert Speis on two renga I submitted to him; he rejected them but took a lot of time writing marginal notes which I read and learned from.  I also, in the early 80’s, submitted some haiku that were published.  And I was anthologized in a few books of haiku and renga.  And finally, when I began writing tanka I submitted some to a few journals and they were published (Denis Garrison was particularly encouraging.)

Then I began to pull away from submitting and pretty much stopped doing so altogether.  I don’t recall making a conscious decision in this regard.  The shift in attitude seems to have simply happened on its own, and I went with it.

Partly, I think, the pull away from submitting my poetry had to do with my own changing esthetic.  As I moved away from a free verse approach to haiku and renga I found the syllabic approach more and more rewarding.  But at the same time I had the realization that I was heading in a direction not shared by the journals and organizations noted for publishing this kind of poetry.  I began to see publication in them as, in a sense, entering alien territory.  That’s an exaggeration, of course, but I began to feel a sense of distance and estrangement from haiku and tanka publications and organizations.

I began to notice what the effect is of having a syllabic haiku published in a haiku journal dedicated to a free verse interpretation of haiku.  The effect is that the syllabic haiku simply looks like a free verse poem.  This is because the relationship to the other haiku does not mark it as distinctive.  Thus free verse haiku has a corrosive effect on syllabics; though free verse haijin won’t see it that way.

To see what I am getting at, if you take a collection of syllabic verse that all share the same form, say the published volumes of the cinquain journal ‘Amaze’, as you move from poem to poem they all share the same form.  This is true even when there are variations on the form.  And the reader picks up an underlying shared sense of rhythm and shape that all of the cinquain share.  There is a relationship between the poems that is deeper than their surface depictions; a communal commitment to a particular pulse.  You can find this in sonnet anthologies as well.

This deeper dimension is lost in modern haiku anthologies because the communal commitment to a shared syllabic shape is not present.  So even if the anthology, or journal, agrees to publish a few syllabic haiku, the effect of a communal sharing of, and commitment to, a deeper, underlying pulse and rhythm, is lost.  If you read a haiku collection by Edith Shiffert, to pick just one example, the shared pulse acts as a stream like current carrying you from haiku to haiku.  But if you take a single haiku from her collection, and then place it in an anthology of free verse haiku, that current that carries the reader from haiku to haiku is simply not there.  I began to feel the absence of this pulse, this current, as a loss of meaning.

These thoughts are in hindsight.  At the time I just felt less and less at home in the free verse haiku and tanka journals.  Tanka journals in particular struck me as simply collections of free verse poetry with no discernible connection to the actual history of tanka as formal verse.  This has developed into a feeling that syllabic haiku (and other syllabic forms that free verse poets have taken a liking to) needs its own space and journals; because when a syllabic haiku is placed in a collection of other syllabic haiku the relationship between the haiku, the shared shape/pulse/rhythm emerges with clarity.  And the fact that this sharing is a communal commitment, and not just an accident (which is what it seems like in a free verse haiku context), and the centrality of that communal commitment, becomes clear.  The result is that the reader senses that the form itself is meaningful, which is not clear when a syllabic haiku is surrounded by free verse haiku.

There is another aspect about poetry journals that makes some poets reluctant to participate; and that is that they are ephemeral.  And most of them have a very tiny readership.  And this readership is often scattered geographically so that you don’t really get a sense of community from their presence in the pages of a journal.  For some, it is unsatisfying.  I even wrote a sonnet about exactly that feeling.

Eventually, I would access print-on-demand technology, and this made it possible for me to publish my work in a way that I find satisfying.  I think this is true for many poets today.  The gate to publication is no longer controlled by those who have a particular esthetic commitment; in the case of haiku, publication is no longer controlled by official haiku organizations that have an esthetic commitment to a free verse interpretation.  This kind of access has tipped the balance away from such organizations and allowed poets to put forward their poetry even if that poetry is based on an understanding out of sync with the official gatekeepers.  I think that is a very good thing.

Richard Wright Day -- 2015

Today is Richard Wright Day and this year I don’t have a long post or analysis of his work.  I’ve just been too busy.  Nevertheless I wanted to take a moment to pay my yearly tribute to Wright and to his contributions to English Language Haiku and syllabic verse in general.  It’s a good day to read Wright’s collection of superb haiku poetry, or maybe to compose a haiku tribute to Wright.

I spend time studying Wright’s work; there is a lot to learn from his approach to haiku and syllabics.  I am in the process of building a concordance of Wright’s published haiku.  I am almost finished with the concordance and several things emerge from this project.  First, the vocabulary is accessible by ordinary readers.  There are no high abstractions or obscure words, no made-up words.  The concordance appears to be dominated by nouns that name objects in the world that anyone can relate to. 

Second, the vocabulary is mostly short-count words.  Rarely you will find a word that has 4 counts or higher.  An exception is found in haiku 653:

You can see the wind

Absentmindedly fumbling

With apple blossoms

The word ‘absentmindedly’ is a rare 5 count word; but it works.  It’s an ordinary word, a word one hears in conversation.  So it fits the overall vocabulary.

Haiku 87 is another example that uses a 5 count word:

Meticulously,

The cat licks dew-wet cobwebs

From between his toes.

Here the 5 count word holds an entire line.

Again, such words are extremely rare, but when Wright does use them they don’t cause the reader to stumble.  They read smoothly and fit in with the overall sense of the haiku he is writing.

Another aspect of Wright’s haiku that comes through in the concordance is the ordinary syntax that Wright uses.  Articles appear in almost every haiku, as do prepositions.  Unlike many ELH haijin that have been influenced by the cerebral construction of an artificial syntax that is pushed by official haiku (what I refer to as 'Haiku Hybrid English'), Wright’s haiku accept the English language as it is.  From my perspective that is one of the chief virtues of his haiku and it is an ideal that I would like to see many more ELH poets adopt.

I will have more to say about what the concordance shows.  But for now this is enough.  Let’s take a moment of appreciation for Richard Wright and the haiku he has bequeathed us.

The Haiku of Bill Albert

The Haiku of Bill Albert

One of my ongoing projects is to recover some of the haiku written in the past which have now all but vanished.  Now and then I take time to see what is available from used book sites and then, using my intuition, select what I think might be valuable.  At other times I will notice in an older essay on haiku that the author mentions in passing a haijin or book I have never heard of.  This then sends me on a search.

That is how I discovered a small volume called Haiku by Bill Albert.  It was published in 1991.  As far as I know it was never reissued.  And I am not aware that Albert’s haiku have ever been placed in any anthology that I have read. 

The collection of haiku is truly excellent.  They have a secure basis in the traditional syllabic shape of 5-7-5, they are seasonal, and they are elegant in their use of language.  Most of the haiku are in two parts though the sense of juxtaposition is muted.  I appreciate this.  Using renga parlance, the two parts are ‘close’, which means accessible.  Often the two parts are divided along sensory lines.  Here is an example

The frost-sharp window

shatters the violet dawn –

The garbage truck squeals.

Lines 1 & 2 are visual; they also set both the season and the time.  Line 3 shifts to a sonic sensation that is strident, merging with the verb used in line 2, ‘shatters’.

Here is an example where the two parts focus on two sonic elements:

A sapling’s branches

patter against the window –

a car not starting.

‘Sapling’ is a season word, so line 1 sets the season.  Line 2 introduces the sound of branches against the window; implying a breeze.  Line 3 introduces a sonic element of a car turning over but not starting.  The two sounds are similar and the reader can hear them merge.  This is a nicely contrapuntal soundscape.

Here is one I particularly like:

A full moon tonight . . .

all of the light in my room

comes from a street lamp.

It’s a nice setup.  The ‘full moon’ is a season word indicating autumn.  The reader is set to think of a room flooded with moonlight, and then Albert puts in a little twist.  Instead of moonlight in his room it is a streetlamp’s light that fills the room.  There is a contemplative and lonely mood to this haiku which continues to resonate with the reader long after reading it.

Albert’s approach to lineation interested me because he effectively uses certain means that I often find fault with.  For example, Albert will end a line with a preposition:

Two crows rise from

the hollow of scrub-oak

the northeast wind.

Here the count is 4-6-4.  Line 1 ends in the preposition ‘from’.  Normally I think lines ending in prepositions are careless; but with Albert I found myself seeing how such an approach can work effectively.  In a way this haiku is a list haiku; each line has its own image.  The ‘from’ links two of the images together and I think that is why it works to end line 1 at that point.

Here is another example of line ending usage that surprised me:

Awakened by the

sudden cold of the spring night –

The frogs singing.

Line 1 ends with ‘the’ and, again, normally I think of such usage as sloppy.  Here Albert makes it work by having line 2 be a self-contained image so that the word ‘the’ acts as a kind of link in the same way that the word ‘from’ does in the previous haiku.  I found this to be skillful.

A few times Albert uses a single line approach to his haiku:

Branches lattice the chipped moon.

This is a striking image.  It is one of the very few single line haiku that I have resonated with.  Most single line haiku are infected with obscurantism and self-conscious displays of avant-gardism.  Albert’s single line haiku are, in contrast, accessible and striking.  My sense is that Albert now and then, not often, experiments with the haiku form, but that his overall approach is strongly rooted in the traditional 5-7-5 syllabics and the necessity of a seasonal reference.  For this reason his experiments still retain some connection with the haiku tradition.

According to the ‘Publisher’s Note’ placed at the end of the book, Albert died in 1988 at the age of 37.  The ‘Note’ does not tell us the cause of his early passing.  But I get the impression that it was some kind of degenerative disease.  This is a pattern among haiku poets: think of Shiki and Richard Wright.  Of course not all great haijin were chronically ill; most were not.  But it is still intriguing how, at times, really good haiku comes from those whose lives have been circumscribed by a long illness.

In any case, Albert worked on his haiku and left a modest number of notebooks.  His friends gleaned what they considered to be his best and published the haiku as an offering from their friend on their friend’s behalf.  They had to do this for Albert because Albert seems to have been disinclined to publish on his own behalf.  The ‘Note’ says, “He was without worldly ambition, made no effort to publish or otherwise promote himself.  His ambition, turned inward, was purely aesthetic: he was aiming to write the perfect haiku, and in the best tradition of the form, wanted to write it anonymously.”  Albert seems to have been a modern Emily Dickinson in his distrust for the more worldly aspects of poetry, such as publication and promotion.  What is remarkable, given Albert’s attitude, is how many friends he had who participated in the publication of this work.  The list of people who donated to get the book into publication is over 200.  It seems that Bill Albert made a significant impression on a wide group of people in spite of, or perhaps because of, his reclusiveness.

I am grateful to the friends of Bill Albert for taking the time to publish these haiku.  It is a rich and rewarding collection.  It deserves to be reprinted and more widely known.  Readers may be able to find a used copy on amazon or abebooks.com.

Children stop chasing

fireflies to watch shooting stars --

the porch light flickers

Buson Haiku Discovered

A friend of mine sent me the link to this story about Buson:

http://ajw.asahi.com/article/behind_news/social_affairs/AJ201510150032

It seems scholars have uncovered about 200 haiku of Buson which were included in an anthology.  For some reason these haiku had vanished from historical memory.  But they have now been recovered.  Great news.

Finding a Place for Formal Haiku: Part 3

Finding a Place for Formal Haiku: Part 3

In no particular order, I’m going to close this series with a few random observations that came to me while interacting with Watkins' 2007 article.

1.       My basic view is that syllabic haiku and free verse haiku have become two separate forms of poetry.  This happened gradually.  Both free verse and syllabic haiku have the same origin – Japanese haiku.  But they have responded to different aspects of the form.  At first this didn’t seem to be a significant difference.  Over time, however, the differences have become clearer and the separation between them has become sharper.

2.       I don’t think there is anything to be gained on the part of syllabic haijin in trying to gain access to official haiku organizations.  Official haiku is committed to the free verse approach and that’s fine.  They do a good job advocating for free verse haiku, publishing it, holding workshops on how to go about writing it, etc.  Official haiku is what it is and is doing a good job advocating for its view. 

3.       What I suggest is that syllabic haijin go their own way and not worry about official haiku.  In a sense this has already happened.  A syllabic haijin like Priscilla Lignori has set up her own haiku group that teaches a syllabic approach.  And there is at least one journal which is explicitly devoted to syllabic haiku, ‘The Haiku Journal’.  At this time it seems that organizations advocating for syllabic haiku are just emerging.  I’m not sure what form they will take.  Syllabic haijin might begin parallel organizations and journals: there might be something like The Syllabic Haiku Society of America.  But I’m not sure.  I mean I’m not sure that syllabic haijin need the same kinds of organizations that free verse haijin have.  There is no American Villanelle Society, but that does not stop poets from composing excellent villanelles.  In the same way there does not exist any syllabic haiku society, but that has not interfered with people composing excellent syllabic haiku.

4.       Yet the hostility of official haiku towards syllabic haiku is something that needs to be dealt with.  The critiques of syllabic haiku on the part official haiku are entirely without merit.  The linguistic arguments are vacuous, the poetic critiques of syllabic haiku are uninformed.  This hostility does need to be countered in an informed way.  The response needs to be without hostility itself.  The point is to take an apologetic position rather than an antagonistic one. 

5.       On the other hand, these critiques of syllabic haiku should not be given a free pass.  For example, I think that Watkins is too accommodating in his essay when, in several places, he acquiesces to the idea that the English form of 5-7-5 may have been an erroneous application of the Japanese onji (sic) to an English language context.  This kind of argument is widespread in official haiku.  But it is all smoke and mirrors.  In other words, I think syllabic haijin have been too generous towards official haiku and official haiku’s arguments in support of free verse haiku.  Syllabic haijin need to take back some of this territory; not to argue that composing free verse haiku is wrong, but to affirm that the counting procedure for syllabic haiku is legitimate and that it is not based on a misunderstanding of the Japanese language.  On the contrary, such an approach sees the Japanese language as one language among many rather than something weird and bizarre.

6.       The esthetic differences between syllabic and free verse haiku, I think, need to be highlighted.  Think of the word ‘haiku’ as resembling the word ‘dog’.  ‘Dog’ is a general concept; there are many different breeds of dog.  For example, there are springer spaniels and corgis.  We use different standards for these two breeds; we evaluate them differently.

In a similar way, syllabic haiku and free verse haiku are two different breeds and they use different standards when writing their poetry.  On the rare occasion when free verse haijin evaluate syllabic haiku, they do so using the standards of free verse haiku.  It is not surprising, therefore, that their evaluation will be negative.  If I use the standards of a corgi to evaluate a springer spaniel my conclusion will also be negative.  And irrelevant.  In a similar way, official haiku critiques of syllabic haiku are, almost always, simply irrelevant to what syllabic haijin are doing.

7.       I have found it helpful to remember that the overt hostility towards syllabic haiku on the part of free verse haiku is not representative of all, or even most, free verse haijin.  I suspect that most free verse haijin are simply writing haiku and are not really concerned with these issues.  I know free verse haijin who are completely comfortable with those who choose to write syllabically.  I refer to free verse haijin who are publicly hostile to syllabic haiku as ‘evangelical’.  They go around the world wide web looking for places to express their dislike of, which at times becomes indignation towards, syllabic haiku.  Their efforts leave an impression of a kind of poetic pugilism.  I am thinking of facebook entries which graphically express their distaste of syllabic haiku, or those who write online screeds denouncing a syllabic approach.  I don’t want to be misunderstood: critique is good.  Discussion of these different approaches is good.  I am referring to a tone wherein the advocate for free verse haiku considers their cause to be a settled issue; they aren’t really interested in having a discussion.  And we need to be honest here; this hostility can, at times, be extreme, which is weird, but there it is.

8.       My feeling is that syllabic haijin need to build a more secure foundation for their approach.  First, I think syllabic haijin would benefit by developing a semi-official canon of syllabic haiku poets.  These would be syllabic haiku poets that would be considered as good to excellent representatives of a syllabic approach.  This would include Richard Wright, Edith Shiffert, James Hackett, and others.  The function of such an informal canon would be to serve as a resource for teaching others about a syllabic approach and as a kind of well to refresh one’s own efforts.  Such an informal canon is found in other fixed forms such as the sonnet (Shakespeare, Wyatt, Browning, etc.).  An informal canon like this is found in Japanese haiku; it is why Basho, Buson, and Issa are so frequently mentioned.  The purpose of an informal canon like this is to assist in stabilizing the form and to act as a kind of entryway into the artistic realm of that particular form.

Second, I think it would be good to generate an anthology devoted exclusively to syllabic haiku.  Such an anthology might include about 100 poets with representative samples of their work.  I would include in such an anthology examples from popular haiku such as Haikus for Jews or Redneck Haiku as they are part of this heritage.  In other words I would not confine such an anthology to only ‘literary haiku’. 

Third, perhaps a saijiki of syllabic haiku could be created.  This would be a big project and would need the participation of more than one person.  I don’t know if there is enough interest in such a project at this time, but it is something to think about.  With devices like skype it would be possible for distant editors to regularly consult with each other on such a project.  It would be time consuming and perhaps it is somewhat premature at this time; but I think it is worth putting out the idea.

Finally, I would like to see syllabic haijin put some effort into reprinting some of the earlier works of syllabic haiku that have gone out of print.  An early anthology like Borrowed Water has some really good syllabic haiku in it.  And the haiku of specific authors needs to be brought back into the present.  With the development of print-on-demand services this is much easier to do than it was even a few years ago.

9.       The creation of alternative spaces for syllabic haiku will encourage others to follow this kind of approach.  Because I have a concern with syllabic forms in general, I also think that such alternative spaces could assist in introducing English language poets to how syllabics works in the English language.  Syllabic haiku is the most successful syllabic form in English.  It has already developed a large literature of high quality.  Syllabic haiku is a demonstration of the efficacy of a syllabic approach to English language poetry.  I think that is quite an accomplishment.

10.     Again, I think syllabic haijin need to cut the cord with official haiku.  Not out of anger or resentment.  Rather it is a recognition that what official haiku is doing isn’t going to change; it is not going to alter its course in order to accommodate syllabic haiku.  And that is not a bad thing. 

Instead of trying to convince official haiku organizations that they should modify their program or approach, I suggest that syllabic haijin go further down the path they have already started on.  When we do so I think we will find many friends walking on the same road.

Finding a Place for Formal Haiku -- Part 2

Finding a Place for Formal Haiku 

Part 2

Watkins: I say “for the past 25 years or thereabouts” because it was in 1980 that George Swede and Eric Amann published ‘Toward a Definition of the Modern English Haiku’ (Cicada; Vol. 4, No. 4; pp. 3-12), which, quite frankly, probably did for haiku what the brush did for curling and the helmet did for ice hockey: made life less arduous for the produce, but more confusing and alienating for the consumer.  In their essay . . . the authors laid the blueprint for the contemporary Western haiku by (seemingly) accommodating virtually every deviation from the 5-7-5 format that had materialized over the previous 3 decades.  The modern English-language haiku, they thus concluded, can be read aloud in a single breath, evokes a moment of deep emotion or insight in which some aspect of Man is related to Nature, relies mainly in simple images, and is always in the present tense.  Such a prescriptive summation probably illustrates why grassroots-up democracy is only as dependable as the people being polled.

Jim: Official haiku is forever seeking to impose some kind of definition on ELH.  One of the funniest analyses I have read regarding this tendency is found in Jane Reichhold’s Writing and Enjoying Haiku, pages 75 – 79.  There Reichhold lists 65 regulations which have been proposed by various haijin here and there in an effort to impose their own preferences on the form.  It is a really strange list.  I say strange because anyone familiar with ELH can easily come up with exceptions to each and every proposed rule.

Official haiku is all about controlling ELH through definition.  In a way, the contest between syllabic and free verse haiku, between popular haiku and official haiku, is about who has the power to define the word ‘haiku’ in an English language context.  The elites want to impose their definition from the top down.  That is why they get so irritated when someone ignores their definition; because it undermines their sense of power.  My own view is that meaning follows usage.  Most ordinary people consider haiku to be a syllabic form of 5-7-5 syllables and for that reason it should be the primary definition.  The real purpose of the proposed definitions found in official haiku is twofold: first, to justify free verse haiku even though Japanese haiku is formal, and second, to marginalize syllabic haiku.  The problem is, no one outside of their organizations care about their definition and ordinary people continue to simply compose haiku in 5-7-5 in spite of what the elites say.

Watkins: To make matters worse, whenever someone has attempted to apply a little ‘top-down’ structural order to this very open-ended set of guidelines, it has often only contributed to the confusion and intimidation.  Cor van den Heuvel, for example, has emphasized the fact that 12 syllables in English is actually more analogous with the 17 onji of the original Japanese version.  He adds fuel to the fire in his forward to the third edition of The Haiku Anthology (Norton, 1999), insisting that: Though a few poets still write in the 5-7-5 syllable form, this form is now mostly written by schoolchildren as an exercise to learn how to count syllables, by beginners who know little about the true essence of haiku, or by those who just like to have a strict form with which to practice. (p. xxviii)

Jim: I have already commented extensively on this blog on my view that the 17 count in Japanese is comparable to the 17 syllable count in English and that both Japanese and English count syllables; so I won’t repeat that here.  (Those interested please see the Unexceptional series of posts which can be accessed from the list of categories on the right side of this blog.)  I will just say that this is an example of how a nihonjinron based view of the Japanese language has been used to critique a syllabic approach and that I think van den Heuvel is just plain wrong.

Here I want to point out strategies of marginalization embodied in van den Heuvel’s remarks.  The first is to infantilize syllabics by suggesting that it is childish and serves only a didactic purpose.  The implication is that free verse haiku is adult, grown up, and serious.  This would surprise Haydn Carruth, Richard Wilbur, Edith Shiffert, and countless other poets who have taken a syllabic approach to haiku.  This idea of syllabics as infantile is rooted in the progressive ideology of free verse as a movement.  The view of free versers is that free verse is to replace traditional verse and that we have now progressed into the modern, free verse, era where the unwarranted restrictions of traditional verse, such as counting, have been put aside.  With this kind of chronocentric analysis, a syllabic approach could only be seen as immature and, possibly, reactionary.  This analysis has the advantage of alleviating its adherents of any responsibility to actually look at the syllabic haiku being published since they know in advance that it is infantile and childish as a matter of ideological analysis. 

The second strategy of marginalization is to argue that the 5-7-5 approach is only engaged in by a few people who misunderstand the deeper aspects of haiku.  The truth is the opposite: the majority of haiku written in English is syllabic.  So why can’t someone like van den Heuvel see this?  Because they remain firmly locked in the gated community of official haiku and simply can’t bring themselves to look over the fence.  Every year there are numerous haiku books published, and countless haiku published at online poetry communities, in the 5-7-5 format.  In contrast, official, free verse, haiku remains the concern of a closed, inbred, elitist community.

Watkins: Now, as far as I’m concerned, this is merely an exercise in sheer snobbery bordering on historical revisionism.  If it didn’t also reek of self-fulfilling prophecy, I would have to dub it painfully laughable.  (I have often wondered how many bards have stuck up their nose or middle finger at closed forms not because of any aesthetic disdain for syllabic, linear and metrical structure, but merely out of their own lack of talent and other shortcomings.  I have a very strong feeling that the average free verse poet today would not be capable of composing a proper sonnet or ghazal in a month of amphetamine-fueled Sundays.)

Jim:  I made this same point about a general lack of a grasp of basics among modern free verse poets in my review of Stephen King’s book On Writing.  In my own personal journey to syllabic verse I did not have a background in traditional poetics.  I had to learn all of it on my own.  I had some assistance, but my experience was that free verse poets were just blank about the English language poetic heritage, its structure, its history, etc.  I’m not complaining.  Being self-taught has its advantages.  But I think it is the case today that if someone is interested in closed forms and how they work for the most part they will have to find their way on their own.

Watkins:  Such conflicting, imprecise and structurally lacking definitions may have been fine and dandy in an era when the term ‘poetry’ was still inclusive, but in an era like the one we currently exist in – where poetry is synonymous with free verse –

Jim:  That’s true only for the elites; for the average person poetry still means rhymed metrical verse, like what they hear in popular song.

Watkins: such a blueprint merely invites the composition of verse that holds a position the haiku sphere analogous to the position free verse once held in the then-inclusive world of poetry.  In fact, ironically, the general public’s continued belief that the notion of haiku automatically entails the 5-7-5 pattern may be the only thing that prevents the modern English-language version from being defined as ‘the shortest form of free verse’. . .

Jim: I think what Watkins is getting at is this: how do we distinguish haiku from standard free verse if there are no formal criteria one can use to make the distinction?  Free verse ELH has dropped the syllabics and has opted for a free verse line.  The result is a type of poetry which is indistinguishable from the free verse one encounters in non-haiku poetic contexts.  And modern ELH has not stopped with dropping syllabics; it has dropped the seasonal requirement as well.  There is a push in free verse ELH to focus on a two-part division of the poem as definitive; but lots of non-haiku poems are in two parts, so that does not seem to be a defining characteristic.  Juxtaposition is not haiku specific.

Watkins:  So this is the basic reason why I believe the 5-7-5 syllabic form to be so very vital: If we are going to exist in a Western environment where the term ‘poetry’ denotes free verse exclusively, and resulting haiku – like other (traditionally/supposedly) closed forms – is now in a literary or artistic category all its own, then we might as well make the best of a bad situation, and devote a considerable portion of our talents to composing haiku according to the tenets of the original English-language form – albeit a faulty or outright erroneously derived one.

Jim: I don’t think the syllabic form is faulty or erroneously derived.  Here I think Watkins is giving the nihonjinron sourced discourse regarding Japanese and English too much credit.  My view is that the English and Japanese syllable are comparable and not qualitatively different from each other.

Watkins: This would enable haiku to transcend being ambiguously perceived as “just another way to write free verse” (as Larry Gross once described the possible state of the sijo if allowed to mutate too far from its original Korean blueprint) – a separate literary category that no longer produces examples of itself and now strives to be accepted back (?) into the world of poetry/free verse.  Simultaneously, it would help us to avoid confusing and/or alienating the general public (i.e., potential readers) who have grown up accustomed to the 5-7-5 form of their secondary and post-secondary textbooks: a persona might require some reference point if he or she were encountering a haiku outside the usual context of a haiku periodical or solo volume – the 5-7-5 format would probably provide that.

Jim: With 5-7-5 at the center and understood as normative, the deviations from that form become variations.  But if free verse haiku is taken as normative it simply melts into the surrounding bog of free verse poetry in general with nothing to point to that is distinctive.

Watkins: I should also stress the usefulness of the 5-7-5 structure as an unifying factor in the context of the haiku’s ever-expanding subject range.  As I have already noted, haiku is no longer merely the verse of cicadas, frogs, sunsets and cherry blossoms.  The form’s natural landscape now flows almost seamlessly from the mountains into the subways, from the frogponds into the workings of the human brain and genitalia.  (I can’t help but be reminded of those lines from Sonic Youth’s ‘Making the Nature Scene’: “The city is a natural scape/Order in the details”.)  In fact, there is no true distinction any longer between the traditionally nature-oriented haiku and the human-centered senryu along the lines of subject matter – the whimsical senryu’s ability to be interpreted as light or satirical verse is its only true qualifier amongst most contemporary English-language haijins.  Where there is no limit on subject matter, the haiku’s propensity for (d)evolving into ‘the shortest form of free verse’ is only exacerbated by the lack of a standard closed form.  The presence of a closed form would serve as an uniform filter, playing the Apollonian to the limitless subjects’ Dionysian, in other words.  And the best closed form to provide this Apollonian element would have to be the one with which the most people are already familiar, the one which has been officially instilled into the minds of the general public for at least the past 4 decades: the 5-7-5 syllabic structure. 

Jim:  The question is, how do you know that a poem is a haiku?  The formal response to this question would be that if the poem is in 5-7-5 it is a haiku.  Simple question, simple answer.  It is the same approach used to define a sonnet: a poem is a sonnet if it has 14 lines and 10 syllables, or 5 beats, per line.  Of course there are additional things one can say about haiku and sonnet.  But these formal characteristics are foundational and are never left behind.  Without this formal parameter that defines haiku as a tercet in 5-7-5 syllables haiku becomes a kind of nebulous muddle of words.

Watkins: Erroneous as it may have been in its conception, at least it is indefatigably ours.

Jim:  I don’t think the 5-7-5 structure is erroneous.  It is my view that the Japanese and English syllables are completely comparable and to argue otherwise is to uncritically accept the culturally chauvinistic discourse of nihonjinron.  On this point I think Watkins gives the critics of syllabic haiku too much credit.  The Japanese language is an ordinary language and I do not think there is any compelling reason to treat the Japanese language as something unique or estranged from other languages. 

Watkins:  Mind you, I’m not suggesting for a second that all of us should ‘revert’ to the 5-7-5 pattern exclusively or otherwise face literary ostracism.  What I am suggesting is that the editors, publishers and reviewers be more open to the traditional, and less arrogant in their approach to those who prefer to compose their haiku (and senryu) in this original English-language adaptation of the Japanese classic.

Jim:  Not going to happen.  If anything, elitist haiku organizations and publications have become more hostile, not less, to syllabic haiku in the eight years since Watkins published this essay.  For the most part they don’t anthologize their work and don’t review their books and do their best to pretend that syllabic haiku just doesn’t exist.

But that’s OK.  Syllabic haijin have discovered that they do not need these organizations or publications.  Syllabic haijin publish their syllabic haiku online at general poetry sites and their collections via print-on-demand.  Some have even started their own journals for syllabic haiku.  So it’s all good: syllabic haijin are going their own way and enjoying the journey.

Watkins:  As I’ve pointed out, in a Western climate where poetry is now synonymous with free verse, and haiku must stand as its own literary form awash in an endless sea of subject matter, any reference points and defensive uniformity that such haijins can provide should be welcomed, not mocked.

Jim:  The reason syllabic haiku is mocked is because the official haiku organizations identify with free verse.  The reason they identify with free verse is because they have internalized the chronocentric views of progressive ideology.  That isn’t going to change.  It is, I think, a hopeless task to ask for some space for a syllabic approach from official haiku.  Let them have their view.  I think it is time for syllabic haijin to raise their own standard and create their own spaces.

Watkins: In conclusion, I would just like to say that I started out over a decade ago writing haiku, and from the beginning, I composed them in traditional 5-7-5 form (or as close to it as I could get).  Over the years, my output has (d)evolved into numerous mutations and variations, ranging from the two-liners found in ‘Hitchcock Presents . . .’ to the various ‘eyeku’ that will be collected in small flowers crack concrete; from the full-blown binary abstraction of ‘2001: A Space Haiku’ to the 18 to 22 syllable experiments found in the ‘Outlaw Haiku’ section of my most recent chapbook, In the Grip of Sirens (co-written with Robin Tilley).  Still, I much prefer the work I’ve done in the 5-7-5 pattern, and these days I’m utilizing it almost exclusively again.  It’s not for everybody, true; but as I’ve hopefully made clear, it has its benefits in this day and age.

Jim:  Interesting journey.  I’ve already spoken of my journey from free verse to syllabic haiku.  What both of us have found is that there is something profoundly satisfying in composing in 5-7-5.  I believe that it has to do with connecting with the tradition.  As Clark Strand noted, when you count syllables, 5-7-5, on your fingers you are one with the mind of Basho and all the other haijin of the tradition.  Just as Basho counted syllables on his fingers, so also today’s syllabic haijin count syllables on their fingers.  There is an embodied unity that is shared across time and cultures.  Remarkable and nourishing.

Watkins:  I guess it’s as someone once noted: I tend to stress traditional form over traditional subject matter.  Then again, maybe I’m still just a schoolchild and unknowing beginner; but I don’t think so.

Jim:  I see Watkins as connecting with the beauty of form itself.  This is the key to comprehending the function of closed forms in poetry.  Free verse haijin are form deaf.  The thing is, though, that form itself is an aspect of both the meaning and beauty of haiku.  That is what 5-7-5 is about and that is why it remains appealing.