Author: Nicholas Klacsanzky

Editor and poet from Seattle.

Anna Goluba’s dreamcatcher

On By Nicholas KlacsanzkyIn Haiku1 Comment

Abandoned house
The dreamcatcher still hangs
In the children’s room

— Anna Goluba (Poland)
Published in Haikuniverse, March 7, 2019

Commentary

I appreciate the mystery (yūgen) of why the house is abandoned. Was it because of physical damage to the house itself that forced the family to move? Or, was it due to other socio-economic factors that the family relocated? The mystery (yūgen) of the abandoned house provides some space for the reader. The dreamcatcher also provides space for the reader’s imagination.

I always appreciate the symbolic importance of the dreamcatcher. According to Indigenous Peoples, the circular shape of the dreamcatcher represents the circle of life and symbolizes that there is no beginning or end. Dreamcatchers are also made of natural materials that reflect the close bond Indigenous Peoples have with the Earth. The web of the dreamcatcher is meant to catch the bad dreams and allow the good dreams to pass through to the person sleeping. In this way, the dreamcatcher is like a spider’s web that filters out negativity. Some dreamcatchers are also decorated with beads, gems, and/or stones, which give them positive energy. Lastly, feathers are also sacred to Indigenous Peoples and are found in dreamcatchers. Feathers symbolize protection, healing, and a connection with the divine.

I appreciate how this haiku transports readers back into childhood. I think a child’s imagination paired with the realm of dreams is very effective. I also feel compassion for the child who was forced to move from the house, for unknown reasons. I think of the dreams the child had when they lived in the house.

In short, this is a haunting and mysterious haiku that serves as an effective portal into the reader’s childhood, their first home, and their dreams. An excellent haiku.

— Jacob D. Salzer

The kigo or seasonal reference in this haiku is not obvious or is nonexistent. However, there is a melancholy feel to the poem; so, I would probably place this haiku in autumn. It’s fine if a haiku does not have an explicit kigo; in Japan, haiku without a seasonal reference (muki haiku) have been popular for about 100 years now.

There is no punctuation in this haiku (an approximation of kireji), yet there is a clear grammatical shift after line one. In English-language haiku, the capitalization of words is not common, though. However, the poet is from Poland, and the haiku community there might have different ideas about the capitalization of words. There is nothing wrong with it and is understandable due to many poets thinking each line of a poem should begin with a capital letter.

The combination or association of parts in the haiku works in stark fashion. The pull between emptiness and the energy/action of the dreamcatcher creates a poignant mood and scene. The ending line enhances the poignancy of the imagery even further.

Looking at the sound of the haiku, I admire the usage of the letter “h.” It’s an uncommon letter to use in succession in poetry, I believe. “h” gives an emphasis at the end of the first and second lines. It also gives strength to the third line as well.

In terms of pacing, this poem follows the conventional short/long/short rhythm in English-language haiku that approximates the rhythm of Japanese haiku. Looking closer at the words used, “the” employed for both subjects “dreamcatcher” and “children’s room” was a smart choice, as both subjects deserve proper respect.

Overall, this haiku combines elements of melancholy, hope, spirituality, and more. Without a word out of place, the poem is effective and touching.

— Nicholas Klacsanzky

Rebel Rose Artistry

Kat Lehmann’s forest stream

On By Nicholas KlacsanzkyIn Haiku1 Comment

an answer without end quotes the forest stream

— Kat Lehmann (USA)
Published in Frogpond 46:2, 2023

Commentary

I greatly appreciate how the answer in this monoku is open-ended and ongoing vs. definitive. I think sometimes the best answer is not-knowing and living in the mystery. 

Another interpretation is that even if there is an answer, there is space to be more flexible and open-minded (i.e. the answer itself is changing or capable of changing). This also shows that, despite our knowledge, there is a lot we don’t know.

I also appreciate how we don’t know the question in this monoku. This makes the poem very versatile and applies to many different questions and situations. It seems asking questions in general is often a sign of humility. Byron Katie once said: “I don’t know is my favorite position.”

The vitality of a forest stream could be a metaphor for the flow of consciousness when we are not stuck or attached to rigid thoughts, living in the constant flow of “now.” In addition, biologically, we are mostly water. It seems if more people lived like a forest stream, we would live in a much more beautiful world. “Without end quotes” also seems to speak to the continuity of life and could speak of reincarnation or a spiritual river that flows on into the afterlife. A beautiful haiku.

— Jacob D. Salzer

Thinking about the kigo or seasonal reference, it is not exactly clear, as forest streams could be present during many times of the year. However, spring and fall are common times for flowing forest streams in the poet’s part of the world. The poem flows homogeneously like a stream represented as one line. I would vie for spring, as “an answer without end” illustrates the abundance of that season.

There is no punctuation in the haiku, but there are definite ways to section the parts:
1. an answer/without end quotes, the forest stream
2. an answer without end quotes/the forest stream
3. an answer without end/quotes the forest stream

…and possibly more.

This makes it a task to choose just one interpretation, but it also gives it more breadth. The association between the words creates interesting readings, such as between “without end” and “stream”; “quotes” and “steam” (both small but integral), etc. A reader can easily sit and investigate this haiku for a good while without feeling the need to move on.

An important part of this haiku is its sound. The standout letters are “o” and “t.” The flowing “o” matches well with the subject of a stream, and “t” provides a sense of the stream’s power, in my opinion.

I like that the poet did not shy away from the possibility of surrealism. Often, westerners have the false idea that haiku needs to be written with objective realism or as an objective sketch. Subjectivity has been a cornerstone of Japanese poetics, and haiku, since its inception. Sometimes, westerners confuse the “sketch from life” approach that Shiki proposed with strict objectivity when he rather focused on writing from one’s life experiences and occurrences (including individual feelings).

This is a haiku to make you ponder and perhaps create your own meaning with. Original, imaginative, and verging on the surreal, this poem has a lot to offer.

— Nicholas Klacsanzky

Painting done by AI.

Alice Wanderer’s summer refuge

On By Nicholas KlacsanzkyIn Haiga, Shahai1 Comment

Haiku: Alice Wanderer (Australia)
Photography: Di Cousens (Australia)

Commentary

Refugees, seeking a safer place to live, demonstrate the strength and resilience of the human spirit. In this haiku, it is the scent of a refugee (or refugees) that we recognize in their absence. The word “perfume” seems to entail a strong scent that lingers. This haiku could also symbolize humility and frugality. With very few possessions, it seems refugees don’t leave many (if any) material objects behind. This makes me think: on our brief human journey of a lifetime, what are we leaving behind? What do we want to leave behind?

In turn, it seems the presence of a kind and compassionate human being is a gift that stretches far beyond material wealth. In the end, physically, we are all visitors on this Earth. The steps in the photo could be a symbol of human striving or steps in human growth/evolution. I think the long journey of refugees both spiritually and physically can redefine what truly is home. 

— Jacob D. Salzer

First, I would like to say that I enjoy the shading and light in the photograph. Also, the textures in the wall and steps make it an intriguing capture. The font for the haiku is appropriate for the subject matter and matches the atmosphere of the photograph.

The seasonal reference (kigo) is in the first line with “summer refuge.” We can guess that the summers where this haiku takes place are exceptionally hot. It might even be in a desert. The poet and photographer being both from Australia can make readers think it might be in the Australian outback. This photograph could indeed be a summer refuge made by Australian Aboriginals to combat the outback heat. In this context, the last line referencing possible ancestors could gain more meaning.

There is no punctuation in the haiku (kireji), but there is a clear delineation of the two parts of the poem by a grammatical shift from the first and second lines.

How the two parts of the haiku combine and interact (toriawase) is pleasant in its melancholy. With summer being a happy and chill time, in this space of sanctuary, there are the remnants of ancestors. Whether this is a joyous or sad happening is up to the reader. “Perfume” is used interestingly in this haiku, as the poet could have easily written “scent.” “Perfume” is a much more endearing word that could have multiple meanings. But overall, this haiku could have an intermixing of emotions or be about a silent celebration of ancestors still with us.

Looking at how the lines are laid out, the pacing approximates the Japanese traditional rhythm of short/long/short.

The diction is in line with haiku principles of simplicity and brevity. It is also important that the poet left space for the reader to ponder through her choice of words.

In terms of sound, the letter “r” is especially important. With four instances and in every line, “r” gives a hard edge to the haiku that connects to the walls and steps in the photo.

Ultimately, this photo haiku (shahai) expresses inexplicable emotions with grace. Though the image and haiku might be endemic to Australia, it is written in a universal way.

— Nicholas Klacsanzky