Haiku comment week continues after a two-day pause. Actually, I
might make have made this a permanent part of my blogging, and retire have retired the Smorgasblog. We’ll see.
My theory of why haiku in English work: it’s the three lines, and the fact that the middle one usually has one more stress than the other two. That, and the lack of direct metaphor — that reticence. The spaces at the end of each line prepare us for the space afterwards, which is needed to do the extra work that haiku require of a reader, if they’re any good (and some of mine aren’t, I realize).
Slipping through a crack
in the shed wall, the sun finds
the one round thing.
Light Verse for a Heavy Universe
What isn’t wrinkled? Plastic. Glass. Chrome.
Unless, through a microscope, you discover
the scandalous truth.
A verse must be light
to traverse the hidden depths
in every surface.
Tonight, the priest on his right listened, raised his eyebrows, smiled, and didn’t say anything; B. smiled a bit more broadly, enjoying ruffling the feathers. The question is actually timely: while traditional Catholic and Anglican parishes all the province are emptying, groups of young people are forming their own house churches, sharing bread and fellowship, prayer, meditation, and community.
a friend, a journal, the smile
of a silent priest.
Blaugustine (Nov. 2)
The transition from canvas to camera to computer to website to internet doesn’t allow for accurate reproduction. Never mind, at least you can follow the changes. I don’t know if any more apples are going to appear.
Even the vase
on the windowsill wants
to be an apple.
Tucker and I walked over to Dogbane Corner, one of my favorite neglected patches of weedy vegetation. The dogbane pods have burst and I took these shots.
On the weedy lot
near the new jail, dogbane seeds
loosen in the wind.
What? One hundred and thirty-seven Nunavut bloggers?
in the long Nunavut winter
as their fingers go numb.
I also learned, to my great surprise, that ‘marraskuu’, the Finnish name for this month, means ‘month of the dead’. But wait, it may not be like Día de los Muertos, or Day of the Dead as celebrated in Mexico. It’s thought to come from the earth being ‘martaana’ or in a state of death.
All Souls Day:
the dead hortensia speaks
in a thin whisper.
Red-legged partridges are not native to the Americas. This one obviously belongs to someone. We tried to catch it but it flew onto the roof. If it isn’t careful, it’s going to belong to the red-tailed hawk that’s been flying around all day, callingâ€¦
A red-legged partridge on the roof,
a red-tailed hawk.