A Haiku Sequence
writing haiku...
the cock crows
as if possessed
the vacuum humming
I revise
a spring haiku
color of the sky
like a cat dead for weeks
my summer haiku
a pause
between haiku
half-moon
writing haiku...
autumn sunlight breaks
through a wall of gray
winter solstice
a haiku lost and found
in my dream
the porridge
on my coffee-stained desk
rewriting haiku
(for Jack Kerouac)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Your perceptions are pared down to a naked moment. The naked present is where everything begins and ends, but sometimes we dwell on past and future, so overlook it, and it dwindles. I like the hum of the vacuum cleaner, insisting that life outside of this sentence-hunting hobby must go on. At the same time, the vacuum cleaner's monomaniacal sound parallels your own determination to banish all flaws from your writings. I got my start writing poetry with haiku, and I remember that time fondly. I think it helped train my eye.