Modern Haiku, 47.1., 2016

© Ramesh Anand (India)

The first two lines seem ordinary, but the third line brings depth and layers. What are “boxed grudges” exactly? You can’t see a grudge physically… not quite exactly. But objects can carry emotional value.

Maybe the poet has an old friend or family member that he used to be close to, but their differences became too much, and they became enemies or their relationship got strained. The box could be filled with objects used by this person, or by the poet at the time he was close to this person, or even that specific objects remind the poet of that person.

So, the poet is cleaning in spring, as is tradition, and happens upon this box. When the poet looks at it, the memories of that relationship pour into his mind. He might reassess the relationship and forgive the person he has a grudge with, or he will resume the grudge. But by the tone of the first line, I think the poet is reassessing his feelings, and may be considering forgiveness. Spring is a time of flowering, and maybe their relationship will flower again, like a cycle of seasons has passed and spring has been revived.

I like the structure of the haiku. The lines are set appropriately to give the greatest surprise and lets the readers come to heaviest part at the end. If the haiku was written as:

the shelves
of boxed grudges
spring cleaning

…it would have less impact. I also enjoy the sound of the haiku. The letter “s” leads us to imagine the sound of a box being opened, or the sound of a broom. There is also a pleasant tone made by the “l” sound in “cleaning” and “shelves.”

But perhaps the most interesting thing about this haiku is the poet’s liberal use of metaphor. In haiku, we usually imply metaphor, not state them exactly. However, if used tastefully and naturally, metaphors such as “boxed grudges” can create greater feeling and meaning. The naturalness of the metaphor in this haiku shows that the poet is mature, and knows when to break the “rules” of haiku.

– Nicholas Klacsanzky (Ukraine)

Biographical Sketch

American haiku poet and artist Ed Baker was born in Washington, D.C. on 19 April, 1941. He received his BA in English/History from the University of Maryland in 1967 and his MA from Johns Hopkins University in 1971. Ed described himself as being happily divorced, the father of two adult children, and as an “everyday writer,” “everyday artist,” and “everyword reader,” having to his credit over 2500 watercolors, 75,000 poems, and 500 3-d pieces.

Ed lived in Takoma Park, Maryland, and his poetry and artwork, including haibun and haiga, appeared in many journals: Athanor, Frogpond, Odysseus, Hummingbird, South by Southeast, Modern Haiku, Lilliput, Bongos of the Lord, mojo risin, Iconoclast, Calvert Review, RawNervz, Liquid Ohio, Moonset Journal, Haigaonline, World Haiku Review, Origin, Longhouse, Simply Haiku, and Moonset. He also wrote 19 books. His list of books is at the bottom of this post.

Ed Baker’s style of writing and painting is probably best described in a review to Ed’s book Stone Girl E-Pic, where John Mingay writes that the author maintained “an artistic integrity that’s pure and traditional… an admirable integrity that’s attributable directly to calligraphy, collage and minimalist writing. Though, how could it be otherwise? The electro-mechanical drone of a computer would be hard to reconcile with an artist for whom, ‘Everything comes out of silence and goes back into silence.’”

Ed Baker died after surgery on 28 March 2016.
[adapted from The Living Haiku Anthology]

Haiku Commentary

tulip
surprising
snow

(South by Southeast 10:2 (2003)

© Ed Baker (USA) (1941 – 2016)

Only three words, but sometimes that’s all you need. Despite there being so few words, there are two parts: “tulip/surprising snow,” or “tulip surprising/snow,” or even a one-part poem as “tulip surprising snow,” indicating that the tulip is surprising the snow or the snow is surprising to the tulip, i.e “tulip-surprising snow.”

Depending on which way you read this haiku, you get different interpretations and feelings. In “tulip/surprising snow,” we have a contrast or comparison of a tulip and unexpected snow, it could be a tulip in late spring or early autumn, and suddenly it snows. The tulip, bright and garnering awe, compares strongly to sudden snow.

In “tulip surprising/snow,” the poet may have seen a tulip amidst snow, and that sure would have been surprising to see. It brings the reader into the moment. Sometimes the moment is all a haiku needs.

With “tulip surprising snow” and “tulip-surprising snow” we have personification, which is allowed in haiku if done tastefully.

In regard to sound, the letter “i” and “s” show the strongest presence. To me, the “i” sound brings more sharpness to the imagery, and the “s” sound creates the effect of someone stepping on the snow.

But with all these ways of reading, I primarily see it as “tulip/surprising snow.” In a sense, it is a blend of seasons (though two seasonal references should not be made in haiku, this haiku instead shows a particular season and its relation to another). What Baker has done is realize how seasons are not so different from each other, and show how winter can be expressed in spring, and vice versa. It brings a sense of oneness, and also a sense of exceptions. Definitions usually fall apart when you look at something close enough.

– Nicholas Klacsanzky (Ukraine)

A list of books written by Ed Baker:

• Butcher of Oxen (Doxie Press, 1972)
• The City (Red Ochre Press, 1972)
• This Wood (Red Ochre Press, 1982)
• Hexapoem I, II, & III (Red Ochre Press, 1994)
• Nine Perfect Ensos (Red Ochre Press, 2000)
• Shrike (Tel-Let, 2000)
• Song of Chin (draft #12) (tel let, 2005)
• Wild Orchid [w/sumi-e by Fay Chin] (tel let, 2002)
• Things Just Come Through (Red Ochre Press, 2005)
• Twenty-Four Ways of Seeing [w/sumi-e by Fay Chin] (tel let, 2002)
• Okeanos Rhoos (Johns Hopkins, 1972)
• RESTORATION LETTERS: correspondence 1972-1978 (Cid Corman-Ed Baker)
• RESTORATION POEMS: 1972-2007 (Country Valley Press, 2008)
• Stone Girl E-pic (Leafe Press [paper], 2011)
• G OO DNIGHT (Moria Press [paper], 2009)
• Points/Counterpoints (Fact-Simile Press [paper], 2010)
• DE:SIRE IS [book 1 of trilogy] (The Knives Forks and Spoons Press [paper], 2010)
• She Intrudes [book 2 of trilogy] (Modest Proposal Chapbook Series [paper], 2011)
• ARS POETC HER [book 3 of trilogy] [forthcoming from The Knives Forks and Spoons Press [paper], 2013)

the fūrin tinkles
in September wind—
there’s still time

© Elisa Allo (Italy)

(published previously on tanzaku.wordpress.com )

Let’s first understand what a fūrin is: a Japanese wind chime. The fūrin has a bowl-shaped exterior, the zetsu (the clapper) on the inside that makes the sound, and a strip of paper that is hung from the zetsu. With these three parts, the fūrin is able to create wondrous sounds that remind people of summer.

From ancient times in Japan, it was believed that when a strong wind blows, an epidemic will spread. So, the tradition developed that, in order to avoid epidemics and to ward away evil, a bronze wind chime in the shape of a bell called the fūtaku should be hung near the house. They were also hung in temples to create a peaceful atmosphere.

But the epidemic in this haiku is probably referring to the season itself. The end of autumn is at hand and winter is around the corner. The trees are becoming bare and signs of vegetation dying are all around.

The last line is open-ended. Its ambiguity lends us multiple interpretations. Time for what exactly? It is not said, but the reader can fill in his or her own ideas. Maybe the haiku points to appreciating what is at hand, admiring the precipice of autumn in all its colors, revering what is dying. There is still time to enjoy nature’s beauty before the bareness of winter comes.

Another interpretation could be of a spiritual nature. Despite our wrongdoings and our life events, there is still time to become saintly.

Yet another interpretation could be that the haiku is stating that time is still present, whereas in winter, time seems to stand still in the covering of snow and the bitterness of the cold. Also, the tinkles of the fūrin could wake the sense of the poet to the moment, each tinkle a new moment.

I am sure you as readers can come up with many other interpretations. However, it is important to consider the mood of the haiku. Not only is the last line optimistic, but also the word “tinkles” gives off a positivity.

The letters “s” and “t” feature strongly. The “s” sound creates the effect of trees whistling in wind, and the “t” sound produces the effect of tinkling.

I believe this haiku is calling us to see the light in the dark, and to be appreciative of what is around us by being in the present moment.

– Nicholas Klacsanzky (Ukraine)