Microcosmos

Microcosmos, my latest book, is finally published!  Microcosmos is subtitled, The Art of the Solo Renga.  It is, as far as I know, the first collection of solo renga in English.

Microcosmos has three sections.  The first section brings together my own solo renga written over a period of about 30 years.  My solo renga are presented first and foremost as poems; to be read as poems.  My target audience is the reader who is engaged with contemporary poetry, but does not necessarily have a specialist’s knowledge of Japanese poetry or renga procedures.  In this way my collection of renga resembles a collection of sonnets; when publishing a collection of sonnets the reader does not have to know all the rules and constraints of sonnet composition in order to enjoy the sonnet as a poem.  In a similar way I present my solo renga as poems to be enjoyed by the interested, but non-specialist, reader.

The second section is a collection of 100-verse solo renga, known as ‘hyakuin’ in Japanese.  The 100-verse form was the form that emerged in medieval Japan and it is the form that all other forms of renga are derived from.  It is the 100-verse form that Sogi used to write his solo renga.  The second section includes my own 100-verse renga, ‘100 Verses at Sebastopol’. 

The second section also includes a 100-verse renga by Edith Shiffert, ‘A Return to Kona’.  I believe that Shiffert is the first to write renga in English, the first to use the 100-verse form, and the first to compose a solo renga.  Shiffert published this renga in 1964 in her collection of poems that used that title for the renga as the title for the collection.  Shiffert, remarkably, takes a syllabic approach to her verse construction.  This solo renga deserves to be much more widely known.

Writing in another style, section 2 includes a 100-verse renga by Jane Reichhold, ‘Masks of Madness’.  Reichhold’s approach uses a short-line, free verse, approach to lineation, which is a widely used approach among practitioners of Japanese forms in English.  Reichhold’s renga also uses a lot of word-play and has a snappy, scintillating quality to it.

Finally, section 2 contains two translations of 100-verse renga by Sogi.  These translations (by Earl Miner and Steven D. Carter) are published with the permission of their respective copyright holders.  The Sogi renga give the reader an opportunity to experience how Sogi used the renga form in a solo context.  In particular, the 100-verse renga that Sogi wrote towards the end of his life, called ‘Sogi Alone’, is a work of great beauty; it is this renga which inspired me to compose solo renga.

Section 3 of Microcosmos contains essays and asides.  Some of the essays are on technical matters, such as the way season and time interact in renga.  And some are expressions of appreciation.

Microcosmos is available through Amazon and is also distributed through Ingram; so it should be available through local bookstores as well.

Microcosmos

ISBN: 9781492933229

$26.95

Lynx Magazine Has Published Its Final Issue

 

Lynx Magazine

I have learned that Lynx Magazine, after a run of close to 30 years, has published its last issue.  Most poetry magazines are ephemera; some last for only a few issues, others for a few years.  30 years is a good run.

The ending of publication for Lynx brings back to me many memories.  I began Lynx back in the mid-80’s.  At its inception it was called ‘APA-Renga’.  ‘APA’ stood for ‘Amateur Press Association’.  In the mid-80’s the internet was just on the verge of becoming widespread, but it hadn’t become the dominant means of communication at that time.  It was just about to, but not quite.  ‘APAs’ were a group of publications which were subscriber written.  Most of them had a topical focus, though a few were more like diaries.  Many of them started out in Sci-Fi fandom and were focused on a particular author or type of science fiction or fantasy. 

APAs worked by having a central collator.  Members of the APAs sent in their contributions, with copies.  The collator then collated the submissions, but did no editing.  Then the collator would send out the collection on whatever schedule was set for the APA.  Most of the APAs had a small membership; they rarely rose to 30. 

APA-Renga followed the procedures of a standard APA.  People would submit an opening verse (hokku) for a renga.  I would then copy this and send it out to all the participants on a regular schedule.  Participants would then respond to the verse, or not.  I would then add the responses and send them out in turn.  Then people would respond to the second verses, as they felt inspired.  If no one responded to a verse, it dropped out of the next issue.

This meant that all of the renga branched out with many alternative paths stemming from each opening verse.  This was completely non-traditional and experimental.  It was also a lot of fun.

I was only able to run APA-Renga for about two years.  Life suddenly became very complicated and I was unable to find the time to continue with the publication.  Fortunately, Terri Lee Grell stepped forward and agreed to take over the publication.  It was Grell who changed the name from APA-Renga to Lynx.  She also added reviews and, if I recall correctly, some regular renga to the mix.

Terri’s life, in turn, became complicated (life is like that!) and after about another 2 or 3 years passed along Lynx to Jane and Werner Reichhold.  Jane and Werner quickly moved Lynx to the internet and Lynx became an online publication.  Both Jane and Werner recognized quite early the potential for online poetry publication.

Over the next 20 years Jane and Werner faithfully published Lynx four times a year.  They added more reviews, more explorations of poetic form, and increased the space devoted to other forms such as ghazals and tanka.  At some point, I can’t remember exactly when, interest in this branching style of renga waned.  I believe this is because knowledge of the standard form became more widespread and people wanted to shift their attention to a more traditional approach.  Jane and Werner made the decision to drop the participation branch renga and continue with Lynx as an online publication focused on a mixture of reviews, thought pieces, and poetry. 

It is amazing to me that Jane and Werner were able to keep up the pace for so long.  It was a huge effort and contributed greatly to the online poetry world in general, and to those interested in Japanese poetic forms in particular.  To Jane and Werner – many thanks for your decades of dedicated work.

 

Conversing with the Rules

Conversing with the Rules

Here is a Haiku by James Hackett:

Old shadowy snow

melting in a shallow pond . . .

the summit beyond!

(Haiku Poetry, Volume Two, James Hackett, page 62)

I happened to turn to this Haiku in a random way after re-reading Hackett’s ‘Suggestions for Writing Haiku in English’.  The ‘Suggestions’ are appended to his Haiku at the end of the volume.  There are seventeen ‘Suggestions’.  They are a model of clarity and offer the reader insight into Hackett’s views of how Haiku should be written and shaped.  Suggestion 12 is, “Avoid end rhyme in haiku.  Read each verse aloud to make sure that it sounds natural.”

I have to admit, I got a kick out of the association.  It also demonstrated to me that Hackett doesn’t feel bound by his own ‘suggestions’; meaning, I think, that the suggestions are not rules.  I mean they are not rules in the sense that the rules for chess are rules; in the sense that if you break a rule in chess it means that you are cheating.  The rules for chess are not ‘suggestions’.

This got me to thinking about the function of rules in poetry in general.  Jane Reichhold has a very funny list of rules “that have come and gone” for the diminutive haiku.  There are 65 (yikes!) such rules.  (Writing and Enjoying Haiku, Jane Reichhold, pages 75 – 79).  It is sobering to read this list; it is also very funny.

Thinking about rules lead me to thinking about the rules for Renga; because Renga is a highly rule-bound form (I think it is in the running for the most rule-bound form of poetry evah!).  There is a significant, in the sense of highly influential, manual for Renga poets translated by Steven Carter in his book “The Road to Komatsubara”.  It is Shohaku’s Renga Rulebook, with the unassuming title, ‘The New Rules of Linked Verse, with Kanera’s New Ideas on the New Rules and Additional Comments by Shohaku’.  Phew!  Let’s just call it Shohaku’s Renga Rulebook. 

The interesting thing about this Renga Rulebook, written in 1501, is that it is based on previous Renga Rulebooks; but it preserves what the previous authors had to say, even when Shohaku disagrees.  Carter writes,

“One might expect of Shohaku, after his many years of study and compilation, a thorough revision of the rules; but . . . a different approach to the task of emendation was taken.  Rather than an open revision, Shohaku’s work is an interlinear commentary – sometimes a critical commentary – on the rules of Yohsimoto and Kanera. [Yoshimoto and Kanera each wrote early Renga Rulebooks.]  To read the rulebook of 1501 is to read Yoshimoto, Kanera, and Shohaku, along with some anonymous voices, in a kind of running discussion or argument.  Preserving the rules in both their original and emended forms {Shohaku’s Rulebook} is thus a complex and at times confusing text . . . But the work’s greatest fault is also its greatest virtue, for it allows the reader a chance to see exactly what kind of changes had taken place during the first century and a half of the rule’s existence.” (The Road to Komatsubara, pages 36 and 37)

And sure enough, starting right off with Rule 1, we enter into this kind of conversation:

I.  Rhyme

Yoshimoto:  Verses ending with the names of things, as well as those ending with compounds such as “morn and eve,” do not clash with verses that end with inflective words.  But verses ending with the names of things should be separated from each other by more than one verse.

Shohaku:  Words such as shigure, “showers,” or yugure, “nightfall,” do not clash according to current thinking.

Yoshimoto: The final inflections tsutsu, keri, kana, ramu, shite, and all others of the same sort should be separated from each other by more than one verse.

Kanera:  In modern times, kana is allowed in the first verse of a sequence, while its variant form, the “request” gana; may also be used once. No other uses are permitted.

Shohaku:  The “request” gana, if used at all, should appear only after the end of the first sheet.

(The Road to Komatsubara, page 41)

So there you have it.  Right out in the open the varying opinions and views of three Renga Masters.  Yoshimoto would not allow for an end-rhyme of shigure and yugure but Shohaku says they ‘do not clash according to current thinking’.  (As an aside, some of Basho’s haiku use this kind of rhyme.) 

I find Shohaku’s approach highly admirable and highly entertaining.  For one thing, it humanizes the rule-givers.  For another, this kind of transparency, to my way of thinking, actually invites us to enter into the conversation. 

What if we had such transparency today in English Language Haiku?  Wouldn’t it be just the coolest thing if we had something similar for ELH?  I mean we could take Hackett’s seventeen ‘Suggestions’ and publish the kind of conversation that Shohaku used in his Renga Rulebook.  For example, here is Suggestion 8:

Hackett:  Use verbs in present tense.

Wilson:  In modern times haiku poets use the full range of English language tenses.

Or how about Suggestion 11:

Hackett: Write in three lines which total approximately 17 syllables.

Higginson: For haiku in English an overall form consisting of seven accented syllables, plus unaccented syllables up to a total of about twelve, would yield a rhythmical structure native to English . . .

Coomler: We make no attempt to adopt this 5-7-5 form.  Instead we simply keep hokku brief, with no superfluous words . . .

Gurga:  The great majority of haiku now published in English do not follow a set syllabic form.

Strand:  The place to begin is counting syllables – five-seven-five. . . When you count the syllables for a haiku on your fingers and select a season word, already you have touched the mind of Basho and all the other haiku poets of the past.

Reichhold: Whether you fill the lines of your own haiku with seventeen syllables, or make your lines short, long, short, is a decision which you as writer will have to make.

Wilson:  In modern times, counting syllables, 5-7-5, has proven to be efficacious for a large number of haiku poets.

You can add your own; of course.  But the significant thing to me is to enter into the conversation, to feel free to comment, emend, adjudicate, etc.  Poetry forms change over time; they evolve.  By ‘evolve’ I do not mean ‘get better and better’.  I mean that they are transformed, that each of us that enters into the creation of a specific form, like Haiku or Renga or Cinquain or Sonnet, etc., both inherits the precedents of the past, and contributes our own understanding in the present.  And this combination is handed on as a gift to future practitioners of the form.

If you are inclined to formal syllabic verse my suggestion is to follow Shohaku’s example.  Respect the past because past practitioners have a lot to teach us.  And like Shohaku, be transparent about one’s interactions with the past; this transparency will be invaluable to anyone who follows after you.

References:

The Road to Komatsubara, Steven D. Carter, Harvard University, 1987

Haiku Poetry, Volume Two, James Hackett, Japan Publications, 1968

Writing and Enjoying Haiku: A Hands-on Guide, Jane Reichhold, Kodansha, 2002 (see page 31)

Hokku: Writing Traditional Haiku in English, David Coomler, Octavo Press, 2001 (see page 35)

The Haiku Handbook, William J. Higginson, Kodansha, 1985 (see page 105)

The Other World of Richard Wright, edited by Jianqing Zheng, University of Mississippi Press, 2011 (the Gurga quote comes from page 170)

Seeds from a Birch Tree, Clark Strand, Hyperion, 1997 (see pages 24 and 87)

Getting Started in Renga: First Steps

Getting Started in Renga: Part 1

Dan, who is a regular here at Shaping Words, asked me how to get started in Renga.  I’ve been thinking about that for a long time and Dan’s question has given me an opportunity to offer a suggestion.

I suggest starting out with the simplest type of Renga; a two-verse sequence sometimes referred to as a ‘tan-renga’.  The tan-renga developed from the tanka form.  Often tanka are written in two parts: the first part is in 5-7-5 and the closing part is 7-7.  In tanka the two parts are written by a single poet.  In tan-renga the two parts are written by two different people.  This composing a 7-7 response to the 5-7-5 part is sometimes referred to as ‘capping’ the opening verse.

So here is my suggestion: use some of your favorite haiku and then compose a closing part.  I recommend using a haiku poet who composes in 5-7-5, such as Richard Wright or Susan August or James Hackett.  When you find a haiku that attracts you, add a 7-7 closing verse.

The purpose of this approach is to give you practice in linking.  At the beginning don’t worry too much about renga categories or esthetics, just respond to the haiku with a two-line, 7-7, verse.

I have often engaged in this exercise.  I find it fruitful which is why I still engage in it now and then.  Here is an example where I used haiku #145 by Richard Wright:

A bright glowing moon

Pouring out its radiance

Upon tall tombstones

Five petals slowly falling

From the blooming cherry tree

My response turns the image into a Spring, seasonal, poem.  Here is the response I wrote to #202:

A cock’s shrill crow

Is driving the spring dawn stars

From out of the sky

The stuff that dreams are made of

And the songs of hope and love

In my response I introduce the theme of love.

It is possible to have more than one response to a haiku and if you find several different responses emerging, I recommend jotting both, or all, of them down.

This kind of practice in responding to a haiku will develop one’s talents in linking.  The idea is to create a unified image.  There are various ways of doing this: you can add a detail, you can shift focus by placing the haiku into a larger context, you can respond to the emotional tone of the haiku, you can place the image in a seasonal or temporal context, you can also link through word-play such as puns or homonyms, etc.  I would recommend avoiding strongly disjunctive images; that is to say sharp contrasts.  The reason is this: in renga each pair of verses, any two consecutive verses, should form a unity; that is to say that the reader should be able to grasp them as a complete image in themselves.  That is what we are striving for in linking. 

After doing this for a while the next step is to cap a haiku with a verse that deliberately includes one of the seven required topics of renga.  The seven required topics are the four seasons (spring, summer, fall, winter), the moon, love, and the ‘blossom’ verse.  The blossom verse is almost always a spring verse, so it is seasonal as well; but it has its own special status in the renga form.  ‘Blossom’ in the context of renga refers to blossoming trees, particularly blossoming fruit trees.  By far the most popular blossom verse is centered on the cherry tree, followed by the plum.  In the west people have also used apple and other fruit trees for this topic.

What I am suggesting is to take a haiku and then deliberately respond to the haiku with a 7-7 verse that is on one of the standard topics.  For example, my response to Wright’s #202 introduced the theme of love, and would be considered a love verse.  My response to #105 was a spring verse.

Doing this you will develop the facility to write a verse on a standard renga topic when that kind of verse is called for in a renga form.  Renga forms have required topics at set places in their schemes; so in order to compose renga you need to develop the ability to compose on those themes when the need arises.

This kind of exercise is a lot of fun.  I have found that capping a haiku with my own 7-7 response is a fruitful way of engaging with a haiku poet.  One of the benefits of such practice is that you develop a deep feeling for the poet you are responding to; you become more intimately acquainted with how they write and communicate. 

Another benefit from this kind of practice is that it carries you through dry periods.  Most poets have periods when the creative impulses seem to dry up.  Nothing appears and the mind just seems unable to engage with the poetic craft.  When I have fallen into that kind of dryness, I will engage with a haiku poet in this manner of capping.  I sometimes refer to them as ‘haiku dialogs’.  Because I do not have to rely on my own inspiration to start the process, because I can lean on someone else’s poetry, it allows me to continue poetic composition even though original work might not be emerging. The result of this approach is that soon enough I slip out of the dry spell and back into a more consistent engagement with my own muse.

But back to renga: I think this is the simplest way to begin learning about renga.  It will give you a feel for the flow between two verses.  It also has the advantage of including another person, the haiku poet, in your creative process.  Although I compose solo renga, solo renga are unusual.  Most renga is written by a group of poets.  Responding to another poet’s haiku is the first step in placing your renga verses into a communal context and this will make it easier for you to join other renga poets when the time comes.

Renga Ramblings 5

Renga Ramblings 5

Renga and Rhyme

Japanese poetry does not use rhyme as an element of construction in its poetry.  It isn’t the case the Japanese poetry does not use rhyme at all.  In Jane Reichhold’s “Basho: The Complete Haiku” Reichhold has a closing section on ‘Haiku Techniques’.  Two of the techniques, numbers 8 and 19, refer to uses of rhyme.  In my study of Tanka I have observed that Tanka poets will, at times, cultivate a particular vowel sound producing both assonance and end rhyme.  Reichhold also points to the use of ‘Frame Rhyme’, what I would call ‘Slant Rhyme’, to produce a humorous effect in haikai.

But this kind of rhyme isn’t part of the way rhyme is used in, for example, English or Chinese poetry.  In English poetry rhyme is an element of construction.  By this I mean that if you are going to write a Shakespearean Sonnet you need to follow a particular end-rhyme scheme because the rhyme scheme is a structural element of the form.  The same is true of the Rubai Quatrain or the Englin Quatrain or Chinese Quatrain forms.  In Japanese forms rhyme is sometimes used, but such usage is not definitive of a form like Tanka or Haikai.  That is to say if there is no rhyme in a Tanka, which is to say the majority of Tanka, that is not considered a flaw.  But if there were no rhymes in a Shakespearean Sonnet, or if they were placed incorrectly, that would be a strike against it.

In general English language poets who write in Japanese forms have found the absence of rhyme in these forms to be congenial.  For one thing, it resonates with the modernist tendency to retreat from rhyme.  I suspect that one of the attractions of Japanese forms for English language poets is the absence of rhyme in an ancient tradition of poetry.

But, since I am writing poetry in English, and since English poetry does use rhyme, I began to explore the possibility of incorporating rhyme into Renga.  I wanted the rhyme usage in Renga to reflect the manner of Renga.  By ‘manner of Renga’ I mean the link and shift patterning, or texture, which distinctively marks Renga.  After a lot of experiments I came up with something which seems to work.  The pattern of end-rhyme I’ve developed is as follows:

The last syllable of the last line of Verse X

And the last syllable of the first line of Verse X + 1

Rhyme.

Here is an example:

Summer ends with the first chill

One more blanket on the bed

“I think that instead

Of purchasing brand new clothes,

This year we’ll make do.”

Dawn, with many shades of blue

Seen through many colored leaves

(From ‘Sunset Sky’)

The last syllable of the last line of the first verse is ‘bed’.

The last syllable of the first line of the second verse is ‘stead’.

The same pattern applies to ‘do’ and ‘blue’.

These rhymes link the consecutive verses sonically.  One commenter on this blog noted that the effect of rhyming in this way was a kind of braiding of the images.

The shift occurs because no two consecutive rhymes are the same rhyme.  In other words there is a shift from ‘bed/stead’ to ‘do/blue’. 

In the two line verses the first line rhymes with the previous verse and the second line rhymes with the following verse; both lines, then, are involved with rhyming.

In the three line verses the second line does not rhyme and adds some sonic spice.  My feeling is that if the second line of the three line verse was also involved in the rhyme scheme it would tend to become too sing-song.  The second line of the three line verse adds a little variety and unpredictability to the sonic flow.

Another aspect of traditional Renga esthetic I’ve incorporated into rhyme usage is that the last line of the first verse, the hokku, does not rhyme with the first line of the second verse.  This gives the opening verse its traditional stand-alone feel.  Using the river metaphor I often rely on, the opening verse gives us the setting, but the journey really begins with Verse 2, and hence the introduction of rhyme begins with the last line of Verse 2 rhyming with the first line of Verse 3.

What is the effect of incorporating rhyme into Renga?  The immediate effect is that when a poet follows a rhyme scheme it limits the available words the poet can use.  I felt this immediately.  This is both a plus and a minus.  It is a minus because what happens if I come up with a really superb link, but the link does not lend itself to the rhyme scheme?  That can feel frustrating.  It is a plus because if I relax into the rhyme scheme commitment, it gives me more focus as I compose each new link.  It is a way of whittling away at too many possibilities.

Lately I’ve experimented with the idea of using such a rhyme scheme in parts of a Renga.  This happened because I was composing a Renga, and I came up with what I thought of as a really good link, but it didn’t rhyme.  By this time I had written enough rhyming Renga to feel confident about my abilities and in this instance I decided to forgo the rhyme and see what happened.  I discovered that I was able to return to the rhyme scheme a few verses later.  What I noticed is that the non-rhyming sequence stood out in this 20-verse Renga of rhyming links.

The Renga poet can use this, I think, to highlight, for example, a moon verse sequence, or a fall verse sequence.  Instead of a sequence that is distinguished by lack of rhyme, what if three to five verses followed this kind of rhyme scheme and they were all on the same topic?  It would add a lyrical dimension to a moon sequence, particularly if the rest of the Renga did not follow this rhyme scheme.  In other words, the rhyme scheme is not an either/or.  It can be used in an entire Renga, but it can also be used as an effective means for creating unity in a topic field.  And the reverse is also true: in a Renga that follows this rhyme scheme, the absence of rhyme for three to five verses will highlight those particular verses as significant.

I have come to regard this approach to rhyme in Renga as an optional tool.  Sometimes I use it, and often I do not.  It is a tool that the English language offers the Renga poet as part of our English language heritage.

In closing I suggest that if you are interested in this approach to rhyme in renga that you click on the ‘renga’ label listed at the right of this blog.  I have posted some renga that use this rhyme scheme.  The Renga ‘Flow of Grace’ is my personal favorite.

Renga Ramblings 4

Renga Ramblings 4

The Pulse of the Poem

When I first began composing Renga I wrote in the free verse style that is widespread among western Renga poets.  (You can see a few examples of this approach in ‘The Narrow Road to Renga’, published by Jane Reichhold and her Aha Press.)  My belief is that this free verse approach to lineation has established itself in western Renga  because almost all of the poets who are interested in Renga have their roots in free verse Haiku.  And even when that is not the case, they will have absorbed free verse norms simply from learning about poetry today from college courses and poetry workshops.  I’m suggesting that free verse approaches to lineation are, for many poets, normative.

The change for me came when I read Steven Carter’s “The Road to Kommatsubara”, which is an annotated translation of a Hyakuin Renga (100 Verses) by Sogi, along with a lengthy historical introduction and the translation of a manual of Renga construction.  I noted that Carter stuck fairly closely to the 5-7-5 and 7-7 pattern of the Renga verses.  Carter’s translation also contains a parallel transliteration.  I began to recite the Japanese transliteration, just to get a feel for the sonic dimension of the Renga.  Carter’s translation is interspersed with many notes, annotations, and esthetic asides.  This means that the translation only has a few verses in a row before some annotations appear; so I was able to take small chunks of the Renga and recite the verses to get a feel for the sound.

I then turned to Earl Miner’s book “Japanese Linked Poetry” which contains a translation of my favorite Renga, ‘Sogi Alone’.  Miner’s layout allows one to read the transliteration uninterrupted from beginning to end.  When I did this I uncovered a dimension of Renga that I had not understood before.  I call this the ‘Renga River’, or the ‘Renga Pulse’.  There is a subtle ebb and flow as the lines change length.  There is a steady pulse, but the pulse is like the flow of a river.  Or, and this is the best analogy I’ve come up with, it has the feel of canoeing down a stream; there is the pull of the oars, followed by a few moments of coasting.

What suddenly hit me is that it is precisely this pulse which serves to hold the images of a Renga together.  It is a dimension of beauty in Renga that emerges only when there is a regularity of line, a formal construction.  This is part of the meaning of the formal parameters of Renga; of the 5-7-5 and 7-7 verse sequences.  I wanted to reflect this dimension of Renga in my own Renga composition.  For this reason I began to compose Renga in a formal fashion, mimicking the syllable count of the Japanese.

This underlying unity of flow is, I think, an important element of why Renga works.  In a poetic form that is non-narrative, where the links between verses, how they relate to each other, can, at times, be obscure or even completely opaque, what holds these images together?  I would like to suggest that it is the underlying pulse that gives Renga its sense of unity. 

Elaborating on the river metaphor; the images of a Renga resemble the sights and sounds one encounters on a canoe trip.  If I were to write up my canoe trip as a series of images, in many ways it would have a Renga feel to it.  Except that what would be missing from my write up would be the flow of the canoe on the river itself.  By having a regulated line, Renga offers the poet and reader access to the flow of the journey.

I began chanting my Renga in a very simple manner.  I just wanted to see how that would work.  And sure enough, the pulse emerged.  In a sense one can view the verses of a Renga as verses of a song and it is the underlying meter that ties all the verses together.

The end result of this was to compose Renga as a type of formal verse in English, again mimicking the 5-7-5 and 7-7 syllable count of the Japanese.  This seemed to work well for me.  In fact, by now it has become second nature.

A few years after shifting to a formal verse structure for Renga I encountered some Renga poets who had gone through a similar evolution in their Renga writing.  The specifics differed; they did not move to a more consistently formal usage by reading Carter and Miner, although they were familiar with these authors.  Rather, they found over time that a regulated line gave the Renga a sense of unity and a stronger sense of flow.  My friends didn’t adhere to 5-7-5 and 7-7 that I do.  Instead they would attempt to consider the lineation of the link they were linking to and to mimic it in their own links, thereby giving the overall Renga a greater sense of uniformity.

I am very encouraged by the results of my own Renga composition and those of others.  I believe that a longer line in Renga, longer than one finds in minimalist Haiku, contributes to the overall sense of an underlying current that holds the images together.  And I have come to feel the wisdom of such a formal approach.   Such an approach contributes significantly to the pleasure that a well written Renga has to offer.

Renga Ramblings 3

Renga Ramblings 3


The Seven Topics of Renga

The second step in composing a solo renga is to know where to place the required seven topics. This, in turn, means being familiar with these topics. The renga poet needs to have these seven topics internalized; that is to say the renga poet needs to study them, how other poets use these topics, images that are associated with these topics, etc.

The seven topics of renga are: Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter (the four seasons), the Moon, Love, and Blossoms.

Every renga has these seven topics mentioned at least once (well, almost every renga; there are always exceptions, but stay with me here). When I say ‘mentioned’ I mean that at least one verse in a renga is devoted to each of these seven topics.

Why these seven? Part of the reason is historical. The early anthologies of Waka, now known as Tanka, were arranged by topic. All of the topics in renga are found in these anthologies. Each of the four seasons constitute chapters in these anthologies, as do Tanka on love. Moon verses feature prominently in these collections as well. And in the spring section there is extensive treatment of Waka focused on the blossoming of fruit trees; usually plum or cherry.

There is another reason and that has to do with ‘essence’. The four seasons (representing five required verses including the blossom verse), the unfolding of love, and the phases of the moon all have an underlying similarity of process. They all wax and wane and exhibit features found in all the other categories. There is, in other words, an underlying unity in these seemingly disparate topics.

The seven required topics collectively form a cosmology. The moon is a celestial appearance. The seasons are a manifestation of the earth. And love is, in many respects, the central human concern and preoccupation. Together, these seven topics embrace heaven, earth, and humanity. When these seven topics are included in a renga a full cosmology is displayed.

When I say that renga is a kind of cosmology I mean by that a poetic cosmology. Scientific cosmologies are analytical and in order to understand them you have to enter into abstractions. Philosophical cosmologies (say Whitehead’s ‘Process and Reality’) are also highly abstract and require knowledge of specialized vocabulary and how to follow inferential structures. Religious cosmologies are not as abstract as scientific or philosophical cosmologies and they are closer to a poetic cosmology. However, they tend to be embedded in a particular narrative and appeal to a specific set of believers (I say this as a believer myself, so that’s not a criticism).

A poetic cosmology is based on images rather than abstractions or narratives. Renga is a cosmology of images. The absence of a narrative structure in renga is one of its singular features. Such absence assists in entering into its cosmological nature. When I say renga is a poetic cosmology I mean that renga displays a cosmology rather than discussing a cosmology, or inferring a cosmology. Renga says ‘Look, the cosmos is like this’, and then gives us examples of the ‘like this’.

The seven topics of renga are the way that renga presents its cosmology and that is why they are so significant. To compose renga is to learn to see the world from the perspective of this understanding.

Different renga forms are distinguished by exactly where the specific topics are placed. For example, there are three 12-verse forms I know of and though the overall count of their verses is the same (12), the placement of the seven topics differs. Those beginning renga need to learn where the form they are interested in places these topics in order to construct a renga correctly. It is as necessary for the renga poet to know these placements as it is for the sonneteer to know the various rhyme schemes of the sonnet.

Fortunately, this information is readily available online. You can go to various sites devoted to renga (or renku, as it is often called), and find the form you are interested in. There you will find templates that detail where specific topics are placed for specific renga forms.

The variations in topic placement among different forms at first can be confusing. That’s why I think it is a good idea for the beginning solo renga poet to learn one of the 12-verse forms first. The 12-verse forms are a good way of learning how a form distributes the seven topics. Once you have got that settled, you can move on to other forms easily.

There is another way of distributing the topics and that is to use chance. Once again, the reader should note that this is eccentric and atypical. If you join in with a communal renga, this method will not be used. But if you are writing a solo renga it is an option. I have found it fruitful as the chance distribution of the topics creates placements that are challenging and sometimes illuminating as to the underlying essence of these topics.

If you are adventurous and want to use such an approach, I recommend using dice. Say you decide to write a 20 verse renga. Get a 20-sided die. Write down the seven topics on paper. The opening verse of every renga should reflect the season that one is in. Right now it is winter. So by ‘winter’ put ‘verse 1’. Now you have six topics left: spring, summer, fall, moon, love, and blossom. If you want to stay with most traditional layouts, the blossom verse will be the penultimate verse. So by ‘blossom’ put ‘verse 19’. Now you have five topics left: spring, summer, fall, moon, and love.

Take your 20-sided die and roll it. Say you come up with 16. Place by ‘spring’, ‘verse 16’. And continue on in this fashion.

Sometimes it is the case that you will get awkward juxtapositions or duplicates. If verse 16 is ‘spring’ and then when you roll for fall and get ‘16’ again, that won’t work. You can roll again. Or, I usually just move it two to five verses away; designating verse 11, for example, as the ‘fall’ verse.

Other duplicates, though, represent a challenge and should not necessarily be avoided. For example, if verse 16 is ‘spring’, and then when you roll the die for the ‘love’ verse you also get 16, I would keep that. When I reach verse 16 I will attempt a verse that is both a spring and a love verse. Or, again, I can move the love verse away, placing it elsewhere. Whichever you prefer.

Reading this I suspect it sounds complicated. But it isn’t any more complicated than, for example, laying out the repetitions and refrains for a villanelle or sestina. At the beginning I don’t recommend using dice as I described above. For beginners composing solo renga I recommend the 12-verse Shisan or Junicho. The topic placement is natural and comprehensible. It is an excellent place for the solo renga poet to start.

The first step for composing solo renga is to choose the length of the renga, the number of verses that the renga will contain. The second step is to distribute the seven topics (spring, summer, fall, winter, moon, love, and blossom) through the renga. For both aspects get to know the classic templates and proceeding will be easier. Once you have the length of the renga and the topic placement down you now have the scaffolding in place. Just like with a sestina or villanelle, which also require knowing the scaffolding of the form, this blueprint is there to mark your way. Think of it as a map you will you use as you work your way through the renga.

Renga Ramblings 2: The First Step

Renga Ramblings 2


The First Step

When writing a solo renga the first step is to decide how long it should be, how many verses the renga should have. In the past this was not an issue. In Sogi’s day renga were almost always 100 verses long. Basho wrote 36 verse renga (as far as I know his renga are exclusively in this form; at least I haven’t heard of Basho engaging in any other lengths). The number of verses also is not usually an issue if you are composing communal renga; renga involving a group which is the usual way of composing renga. If you receive an invitation to join a renga group, the invitation almost always comes with the type of renga specified so that you know in advance how many verses the renga will be. If you are sending out invitations you will usually tell people you are looking for partners to compose a 12 verse, or 22 verse, or 36 verse form. But for solo renga the length is up to you and the length of the renga becomes your first decision.

These days there are numerous renga forms. The 12 verse forms are popular; there are at least three versions of 12 verse renga. Then there are 20 verse, 22 verse, 36 verse, and many others besides.

Partly I decide on the length based on how much time I want to spend on the renga. For example, it is possible for someone familiar with renga to compose a 12 verse renga in an hour or two. On the other hand, a 100 verse renga can take months. Sogi’s famous 100 verse renga, ‘Sogi Alone’, took four months to compose. When I decided to do a solo 100 verse renga, ‘100 Verses at Sebastopol’, it took me about four months as well. A 100 verse renga is a big commitment, but it is also highly rewarding. However, I don’t recommend it for those first starting out with renga.

For those new to renga and wanting to try their hand at solo renga, I recommend beginning with one of the 12 verse forms. The compactness of the form allows the poet to keep track of requirements like topical placement and repetition exclusions more easily than with longer forms. And like I said, once you are familiar with the overall renga form, a 12 verse version of renga can be done in a few hours.

Often I decide on the length by throwing dice or using an online random number generator. I know this will strike some as eccentric and it is. But using such an approach has given me an opportunity to compose renga of unfamiliar lengths; such as 13 or 19 verses. So if you feel adventurous, you can use such an approach as well. The big disadvantage of using this approach is that you won’t have templates to follow. I mean that if you are writing a 12 verse renga form you can go online and follow a template for a 12 verse form. In addition, you can read renga composed by others in this form which is a good way of learning how a particular form works. If you roll the dice and come up with 18 verses or 33 verses, this will mean being flexible and allowing yourself to adapt and incorporate renga structures from other more widely used forms. On the other hand, I have found using dice, or other random number mechanisms, offers an opportunity to create unique patterns of flow and connection. It’s up to you.

What has become apparent to me, after years of renga composition, is that renga can be any number of verses long. Practically speaking 12 verses seems to be the lower limit. (As a challenge to myself I once wrote an 8 verse renga, but I wouldn’t recommend it. It’s theoretically possible, but it is also crowded.) The 12 verse renga form is the practical lower limit because renga requires seven topics be distributed through the renga. And if one includes intervening verses between the required topical verses, 12 seems to be what is minimally necessary. (I’ll have more to say about these required topics in a future post.)

So, again, the first step in solo renga composition is to decide how many verses for this particular renga. The range is great: from 12 verses to 100. I suggest trying several different lengths. Start with a 12 verse form. Then try the 20 verse form. The 22 verse form is also excellent and it is surprising how just adding the two extra verses changes the flow of the renga from the 20 verse form. And there is the classic 36 verse form which Basho loved.

What I have observed is that after some familiarity with different verse lengths, people often feel attracted to a particular length-type. The 12 verse form has many virtues: conciseness, steady pace, and simplicity. I have a fondness for the 20 verse form: it allows for more development and its pace feels more leisurely to me. The 36 verse form also has the virtues of more time for development and more leisure.

So explore the various lengths. Eventually as a solo renga poet you will find the verse length which attracts you the most.

Renga Ramblings 1

Renga Ramblings 1

Renga is my favorite form of poetry. And over the years people have, now and then, asked me if I would teach a class in renga. Recently, several people have made this request.

I have often thought about this. There are several reasons why I hesitate to teach renga. First, to be honest, I don’t know how to do it. Renga is a complicated form and writing renga means keeping a lot of different formal requirements in mind. Consider that traditional manuals of renga are quite lengthy. I think that is why traditionally renga composition was led by a renga master. A renga master is someone who has composed renga over many years and internalized the many rules so that they can guide the renga composition in accordance with the handed down tradition. In other words, it takes time to learn renga; it is a lengthy process. The best way to learn renga is to hang around others who are composing renga.

Another reason I have backed away from requests to teach is that I am aware that my approach to renga differs significantly from what people will find among most renga poets in the west today. For example, I take a syllabic approach to renga verse construction while most renga poets take a free verse approach to lineation. I tend to treat traditional Saijiki lightly, in contrast I have found that many who are interested in renga have a fairly strong commitment to traditional Saijiki. I have separated and sifted out words that designate time from words that designate season, which is an approach that, as far as I know, is unique with me.

Finally, my source of inspiration for renga is the renga master Sogi, as opposed to Basho. How much of a difference does that make? Well, the biggest difference for me is that I find Sogi to be more tolerant of links based on sensation whereas Basho is much more interested in links based on ‘scent’. To my mind, Sogi’s linkage is tighter, clearer, and more considerate of the reader than Basho’s style of scent-based linkage. Don’t take this too strongly; I love Basho’s renga and I encourage people to study them. It’s just that the influence of Sogi on my own writing leads me to accept more explicit linkage than, I suspect, Basho would favor.

And perhaps most significantly, my focus with renga is on solo renga rather than group composition. Again, this is the influence of Sogi upon my own renga composition. For me the renga ‘Sogi Alone’ is the pinnacle, the uber-renga if you will. ‘Sogi Alone’ is a solo hyakuin (100 verse) renga that Sogi wrote towards the end of his life. It is the renga that I value most highly. It is a steady source of inspiration for me; not only in renga but in poetry in general. Because of this the vast majority of my efforts have been in the solo renga form.

The thing is, if I taught renga it would be based on my own procedures as developed over decades of interest. However, if someone listened to me regarding renga composition, and then sought to join with others based on what I do, they would find themselves out of sync with what the others are doing and how they approach renga composition. I don’t want to place people in that kind of awkward situation.

On the other hand, people have asked. As a kind of compromise, I thought about posting some personal observations on renga, how I go about it, suggestions I may have, little things I have learned over time, and procedures I use. These would be informal notes, what I call renga ramblings, in no particular order. Perhaps this may prove useful to those who are interested. Having thought about this for some time, I plan on posting an occasional ‘Renga Rambling’. In that way when people ask me about how to compose a renga, I can point them to these loose thoughts.