The Obligation of Democracy

I had the privilege to start the Seabeck Haiku Getaway in 2008, a retreat that has been held in Seabeck, Washington every year since then. That first year, we featured Emiko Miyashita from Japan. I knew right away that I wanted to invite William Higginson to be our guest the following year. But the very weekend of our 2008 retreat was when Bill passed away, and so his visit in 2009 was not to be. Instead, we were pleased to have Penny Harter—not simply in his stead (Penny was Bill’s wife, and cowriter of Bill’s Haiku Handbook) but as a fine poet in her own right. Penny led us in many memorable activities at our 2009 retreat, one of which was to write haiku in response to Hubble space telescope photographs. We ended up collecting those poems in an anthology I edited, called Seeing Stars, and it won as best anthology in the 2010 Haiku Society of America Merit Book Awards (for books published in 2009). I mention this because this was something that happened in Bill Higginson’s absence, but not without his influence.

     Indeed, Bill’s influence continues today, arising from his significant accomplishments in haiku, but also from personal interactions with hundreds of poets and scholars over at least four decades. My essay in Juxta #1, “This Perfect Rose: The Lasting Legacy of William J. Higginson,” sought to document Bill’s contributions to haiku in English, and over the years numerous people have said how the essay opened their awareness of him as a person and as a poet—and as a translator and scholar. Shortly after its publication in 2015, Penny wrote to me to say “What a thorough, insightful, and caring tribute to Bill this wonderful essay of yours is! A bow of thanks from him, whatever dimension he’s in, and from me.” I added this essay to my Graceguts website on 28 June 2015, slightly edited and corrected.

     My essay was indeed a tribute, as was part of my introduction to the 2015 Haiku North America 25th anniversary anthology, Fire in the Treetops. I titled my introduction “The Democracy of Haiku,” naming it after the title of Bill’s keynote address at the very first Haiku North America conference in 1991. It felt like a fitting way to extend Bill’s influence from the first conference into its 25th anniversary, and it still seems fitting today. I also added this Introduction to my website (see “The Democracy of Haiku”); I have no record of when I made this addition, but it was probably in early 2016 or later.

     Bill saw the value of a democratic and inclusive approach to haiku in English. That was his message in 1991 at the first conference, and still his belief when he died. He would still raise an eyebrow at “pseudo-haiku” or other work that seemed unaware of traditional and effective haiku writing strategies, but he sought to encourage every voice and to recognize where it was along the haiku path. That’s what made him an effective “haiku coach.” Part of his generous acceptance, though, was that he expected much of those he influenced.

     It was my pleasure to dedicate Fire in the Treetops to Bill, and it even took its title from one of his poems. The following is what I wrote for Bill in “Honoring William J. Higginson,” a section of my introduction that echoed my Juxta appreciation.

This anthology celebrates twenty-five years of biennial Haiku North America conferences. It collects poems published in all its previous anthologies since the first conference in 1991, together with new poems for the 2015 conference. The book’s title comes from one of nine poems that William J. Higginson published in anthologies from each of the first nine conferences he was able to attend before he died in 2008.

             fire in the treetops

             the truck races down the street

             trailing its hose

                                             (from Paperclips, Press Here, 2001)

This poem is not about HNA but, as all HNA attendees know so well, it represents something of the event’s frenzy—the rushing around from session to session from dawn to midnight, checking out the book fair and silent auction, meals shared here and there, and all the time spent talking with friends and acquaintances. I know that Bill himself was often up late the night before each conference revising a presentation or making other preparations. So, these conferences may indeed feel like fire in the treetops, yet I also hope that, for haiku, they represent a guiding light seen from near and far. That was certainly the effect that Bill himself had on those who read his words about haiku, or heard his presentations, and it was in his memory, in 2011, that Haiku North America inaugurated the William J. Higginson Memorial Lecture series to feature a distinguished academic presentation at each conference.

     My first knowledge of Bill was through his seminal book, The Haiku Handbook (McGraw-Hill, 1985, Kodansha International, 1989). Even three decades after its publication, it is still the single book I recommend to people who are interested in learning about this poetry, including its history, major practitioners, and how to write haiku in English. When I first read this book, Bill’s words were those of an informed but gentle expert, and they were persuasive in expanding my understanding of haiku poetry. The same is true for countless other readers who are all in Bill’s debt for his leadership, the length and breadth of his scholarly research and translations, and for his own haiku and related poetry.

     Indeed, Bill was prolific not just with his writings about haiku, but with his own poetry, too. He was present at the very first meeting of the Haiku Society of America. The organization formed in 1968, when Bill was twenty-nine years old, and he was an eager and passionate contributor right from the start. He came out with his first book, a collection of Japanese haiku translations, in 1968, and his scholarship and translations would blossom thereafter. But Bill’s first contributions were in the form of poems, joining and leading a growing cadre of poet-friends who were exploring haiku for the first time—and their explorations were not just firsts for themselves but often firsts by anyone writing haiku in English. Bill took a turn as HSA president in 1976 and helped focus the organization not just on reading and enjoying this poetry but on craft and aesthetics as well.

     Until he died in October of 2008, Bill was the only person who had been to all nine biennial HNA conferences—at the first of which it was fitting that he gave the keynote address. Bill was nowhere more in his element than at HNA, where everyone in attendance explored the art and craft of haiku with both the head and the heart. At the tenth HNA conference in Ottawa, in the summer of 2009, Bill was afforded a special memorial, and he has been deeply missed ever since.

     I first met Bill at the premier conference in 1991. I had been writing haiku for fifteen years, very badly for most of that time, but had discovered his handbook—and the Haiku Society of America—just a few years before. While he had been warm and supportive in his letters, he was even more so when we met in person. Only later when we were trusting friends would we sometimes argue over the structure or logic of a haiku essay or the politics of some tempest in the haiku teapot. He could be strident in his advice, but I grew to respect it because it was borne out of careful and deep thinking, and a valid impatience for sloppy logic or scholarship. He was eminently patient with beginners, but sometimes impatient with those more established in haiku. I believe this came from his high expectations, persistently drawing out the best from others in their haiku art.

     Always by Bill’s side was his wife Penny Harter—or perhaps he was always by her side. They struck me as being deeply devoted to each other. Together, for many years, even decades, they were the president and first lady of English-language haiku, and you could count on the poems or critical writing of either one of them to be valuably informed and influenced by the other. Penny softened Bill. Amid his analysis of poetry, she always reminded him of its heart. As inseparable as they always were, they each wrote with individual voices and unique styles. Like Penny, Bill also wrote longer poems, and published several books of them. Together and individually, Bill and Penny were poetically formidable, yet always remained accessible and approachable. Penny continues today, in Bill’s absence, on the same shining path.

     Bill also evangelized for haiku. He was not content to preach to the choir but published numerous articles in broader poetry and educational contexts, sometimes about his beloved renku, sometimes about haiku techniques, sometimes about prominent poets from Japan who had become his friends. Likewise, his translations sought to broaden understandings and connections. In all these ways, he was both a passionate haiku ambassador and preeminent haiku role model. His anthology for children, Wind in the Long Grass (Simon and Schuster, 1991), is still among the best collections of haiku for children ever published, especially for its seasonal emphasis. And his books about season words in haiku, Haiku Seasons and Haiku World (both Kodansha International, 1996), are the definitive books on the subject in the English language. He was also a leading committee member for Japan’s Masaoka Shiki International Haiku Award, a prestigious and generous prize that he surely would have won if he hadn’t been on the selection committee. For his poetry, for his service to haiku, and for his influence on haiku writing around the world, especially in English, few can be remembered as an equal to William J. Higginson, and thus I believe he deserves respect and appreciation on par with R. H. Blyth and Harold G. Henderson.

     At the 1991 HNA conference, I asked Bill to sign my haiku autograph book. He was among the very first signers. I’ve always asked poets to write out one or more of their favorite or best haiku—poems they wanted to be remembered by. This is the haiku Bill inscribed for me, without hesitation, at Las Positas College in Livermore, California, on August 24, 1991:

             after the shower

             finally able to see

             this perfect rose

     Indeed, haiku was Bill’s “perfect rose.” A year before, in one of the earliest letters he wrote to me, Bill asked for a copy of the first haiku book I published with my press. He added, “I have enjoyed your work . . . and look forward to seeing what sort of things you will do as an editor and publisher.” Such simple words were enormously encouraging to a poet new to the haiku community. No doubt many other poets treasured his words to them just as passionately and took much inspiration from them. Although haiku was Bill’s perfect rose, it was not just his alone, and the very first paragraph of his Haiku Handbook emphasizes that the purpose of haiku is to share them.

     Those of us who write haiku with enthusiasm have typically started on this path from various beginnings, each at first finding our own way. But as we travel the haiku path further and further, we quickly come to find fellow travelers taking the same route. Perhaps more than anyone else, Bill cemented that path. Yet he wasn’t so vaunted as to be unapproachable and above us. Rather, he remained one of us, humbly working at his poems and criticism, including as many poets as possible in his anthologies and essays, demonstrating the democracy of haiku. He sometimes called himself a “haiku coach,” and that’s just what he was. Through his lectures, workshops, and extensive writings, Bill made haiku appealing and welcoming to both beginners and experienced poets. Whether at Haiku North America or at other events, or just through the printed word, Bill brought newcomers up, and kept more experienced poets and critics on their toes. His presence at any haiku event upped everyone’s game, showing us all the path of haiku. Far ahead, where the cement wasn’t yet laid, Bill was one of the leaders, one of the explorers for English-language haiku. The path has become a much-loved road, and will likely become a highway, if it hasn’t already. For the many people who knew and loved Bill, he was one of haiku’s chief engineers. It is therefore a distinct pleasure to dedicate this anthology, in celebration of Haiku North America’s twenty-fifth anniversary, to William J. Higginson. Thank you, Bill.

Bill spoke repeatedly of the democracy of haiku. This stance extended Harold G. Henderson’s observation that haiku in English would become whatever the poets made of it, if it did not stray too far. Just as Harold mentored Bill, and Bill mentored me and many others, it has become the responsibility of each new generation of haiku poets to mentor, encourage, and celebrate those who follow. It is our gratifying obligation and opportunity to extend the democracy of haiku and to extend our passion and respect for this poetry, which for many of us is still our perfect rose. We have much to enjoy and applaud, but we also have work to do.