Embedded Files
The following are all my early haiku dating from a notebook started in 1985, extending to 1993, and seemingly written in the car, since nearly all poems are associated with road trips. The second poem hints at an openness to a form other than 5-7-5, but I think the joke was that it was “half” a haiku, and normally haiku should be longer. So that’s why that poem is not 5-7-5, but essentially all the others are, until a specific date. Some poems start each line with a capital and end with a period, but later poems switch to all lowercase and begin to lose some punctuation, and in 1986 they start losing their titles. “I Alone See My Light” may look like it’s a sequence, perhaps my first (with inconsistent capitalization and punctuation), but the title clearly doesn’t apply to the entire set of poems all written the same day. The set of poems dated 30 November 1988 show what looks like my first departure from counting 5-7-5 syllables for haiku (and consciously losing titles), but it actually isn’t. I know these were not my first non-5-7-5 haiku, because I published my first non-5-7-5 haiku before this (yet seem to have no original written record of it):
my window opens
one hundred frogs
sing to the moon
I would have written this poem sometime between December 1987 and March 1988, in Riverside, California. My submission records indicate that I had sent it to Robert Spiess for Modern Haiku (along with other haiku) on 31 March 1988, that it was accepted on 18 April 1988, and that Modern Haiku published it in 19:3, Autumn 1988, page 13. Consequently, I have other haiku not recorded in my 1985+ notebook that I had written when shifting from counting syllables to a deeper understanding of haiku where I also tried to incorporate objectivity, a two-part structure, and sometimes a season word. In December of 1987, too (see “My Haiku Notebooks”), I penned a set of free-form haiku about a trip to Yosemite National Park, and I know I wrote free-form haiku at least a little before this, too—but not before 15 November 1987, the date I purchased Cor van den Heuvel’s The Haiku Anthology (second edition) in a mall book store in Costa Mesa, California (I never dreamed that twenty of my haiku would appear in the third edition in 1999). Cor’s book was my first and prime motivation to no longer believe that counting 5-7-5 syllables was correct for haiku in English. Consequently, many of the later haiku included here (a few that were later published) demonstrate my transition away from syllable counting. I like to think the change in quality was remarkable, certainly an improvement as I shifted my focus from form to content, but in some of these non-5-7-5 poems I also still see mere records of images or impressions and playing with just two lines (thus unfinished haiku?). But they demonstrate a fresh willingness to try new approaches to haiku, moving beyond syllable-counting. A few of these poems are revisions of earlier poems and several poems were later published, showing signs of growth over the earliest poems from this notebook. See also “Godawful Early Haiku,” featuring poems written by 1984, thus immediately preceding the poems presented here—poems that I’d say are, ahem, even worse.
In late 1988 I moved from Southern California to Foster City, California in the Bay Area, and the locations for poems at this time and later mostly reflect travel around my new Northern California home, including a few trips to ski resorts in the Sierra Nevada. The notebook I quote the following poems from covers dates from 12 June 1985 to 1 July 1992 (with one additional poem dated 11 March 1993), with many of the poems seeming to be written on car trips, indicated by the locations that were almost always not where I was living. Consequently, I believe I used this notebook mostly while driving, meaning that other poems from this period (especially 1989 or later) are not recorded in this notebook because I wrote them down elsewhere when I wasn’t driving. I must have had this notebook in my glove compartment! At the very least, I hope these poems, godawful or not, show my change of understanding of the haiku art.
—12 September 2022
Prairie Bird
Grass waves no hollow
Goodbye; knowing God, I, now
Growing slowly, fly.
20 June 1985 (no location recorded where not indicated)
Haiku
half a
lotus is worth less
than none
20 June 1985
Multnomah Falls
A veil of vapour
concealing tears, ever fall-
ing, once I loved her.
27 June 1985 (presumably at Multnomah Falls, Oregon)
Freeway Flying
Butterflying love
Breezes, flowers, golden light—
Here comes the windshield.
27 June 1985
Even Whispered
Open dreams, spoken
like words in a taxicab,
die no silent death.
28 July 1986, Winnipeg, Manitoba
revised 31 May 1987, Riverside, California
I Alone See My Light
lamplight illumines
my vision in a dark room.
beyond light, stale air.
gargantuan sun
burning down on bone dry grass
sets lone eyes aflame.
i imagine blue
skies beyond the clouds of you
unmalleable.
the september rains
freeze in december snow storms,
melt in april light
skeleton birches
innocent as the morning
naked as the fall
the presidentress
nonuninimitable
plays russian roulette.
her blue scarf lingers
in my memory, stolen
from the neck it wraps.
I wouldn’t want to
stand in an orchard if i
were an apple tree.
if i were an ap-
ple tree, i wouldn’t want to
stand in an orchard.
if the trees turned blue
and water and sky turned green
i would still love you.
there is a long road
rough and graveled, sometimes smooth
from my heart to yours.
the orange orchards
and apple groves of my heart
remind me of you.
even when i’m gone
will you believe in me, or
will i die to you?
even when gone, will
you believe in me, or will
i die to you, too?
coral corral corollaries
hello hollow hallowedness
19 December 1986, on I-5 in Southern California
(in my notebook I circled the first letter starting each line of the “skeleton birches” verse, noting what I think was an intentional acrostic, spelling out “sin”)
pale green silhouettes
—jagged blade across the sky—
pines cut the sunset.
9 April 1987, Riverside, California
The preceding poem may be my very last poem, at least from the journal I’m quoting here, written with the belief that all a poem has to do to be haiku is count 5-7-5 syllables—so this poem very well marks a turning point in my haiku. I purchased my first book of haiku translations in the summer of 1987, and started buying books of haiku in English in the fall of 1987, which immediately started to transform my understanding of haiku, as shown in the poems that follow—although I still had much to learn.
slowly hiking
through joshua trees—
suddenly the rain
seeing the oily spot
then
feeling the dip in the road
greens are greener
in the high desert
dreaming of oregon
night sky—
a firefly’s
shooting-star dreams
motel sign blinks on and off
I flick on my turn signal
30 November 1988, on the road between Buttonwillow and Kettleman City, California (on I-5)
(my lowercasing of words such as “joshua” and “oregon,” and other proper nouns elsewhere, such as “i,” indicate my belief that one did this in haiku, seemingly influenced by some of the poets I had recently read in Cor van den Heuvel’s The Haiku Anthology, but I later abandoned this practice because to me such affectations look like typos)
frosty morning
on sierra foothills—
even the cows look frozen.
15 January 1989, Railroad Flat, California
through blurred trees
by the freeway—
a red barn.
26 March 1989, Castro Valley, California
earth spring:
trees in the valley folds
of a grass blanket
Half Moon Bay:
a seagull paddling
by a floating plank.
field of spring mustard
yelling yellow
long country drive
suddenly a yawn.
26 March 1989, Livermore, California
single tree
in the mustard field—
weeping willow
27 March 1989, Tracy, California
Windmills over Altamont
remembering
a dead man
27 March 1989, Altamont Pass, California
baby-seat in back—
alphabet taped to headrest
my exit ahead
27 March 1989, Hayward, California
(with last line added 10 September 1989, Foster City, California)
on the overpass
at sunrise
bigrig’s silhouette
7 April 1989, Sacramento, California
waking
single vapour trail
pointing to the sunrise
7 April 1989, Sacramento, California
(first line changed from “flaming” to “waking,” 10 September 1989, Foster City, California)
driving east at sunrise
a limo with its blinker on
after the kiss,
noticing her cavities
writing while she drives?
—no, a cigarette
7 April 1989, Sacramento, California
wind ripples
in dry grass
dark clouds overhead
21 April 1989, near Firebaugh, California (?)
empty field—
a hay rack
collecting tumbleweeds
21 April 1989, near Firebaugh, California (?)
(this poem was my first to win recognition in a haiku contest—an honourable mention in a contest sponsored by Haiku Quarterly, edited by Linda Valentine, in 1989; later in 1989 the poem also appeared in my self-published haiku collection, Egret)
a teen walking to his
summer job—
carrying the burden of youth
19 May 1989, Gilroy, California
afternoon rain
ripples
on the pond
driving off the overpass—
moon
in the mirror
19 May 1989, Lebec, California
I imagine these flame-blackened hills
covered with snow
11 June 1989, Gorman, California
the stem of some unknown flower—
its petals
blown away
11 June 1989, Pasadena, California
in the waves of hills—
whitecaps of century plant
11 June 1989, Verduga Hills, California
Hiway Haiku
(I believe these poems have this title because I wrote them all on the same date while driving, plus one revision)
raining in the park—
taking a walk anyway
11 June 1989, Gilroy, California
raining in the park . . .
walking anyway
17 June 1989, San Carlos, California (a later revision of the preceding poem)
Sunday afternoon—
wet leaves
on the sidewalk
setting the phone off the hook
a knock comes at the door
11 June 1989, near Gilroy, California
roses on my windowsill
petals
torn by the rain
reaching for her flute
birdsong
from the window
catching the falling leaf
muddy water
in a wheelbarrow
I
won
d
e
r
a
bout
her his
story
a w
rec
k in
t
he
d
itch
after the last kiss
mingling tears
waking
to slow rain
11 June 1989, San Jose, California
(see also my Haiku collection, self published in 1986, which consists primarily of 5-7-5 haiku lineated vertically like the preceding “I won” poem, and also explore my “Stick Poems,” many written around 1986 and 1987, which are similarly vertical, also inspired by E. E. Cummings; Japanese haiku are of course presented vertically as well)
~ ~ ~
my window opens
the welcome sound
of drizzle
12 June 1989, San Mateo, California
suddenly realizing
the universe
larger than the head of a pin
4 August 1989, San Juan Batista, California
high-brow flea market
—not a single flea
6 August 1989, near Gilroy, California
sierra thaw
the sound of dripping
or pine needles
3 December 1989, Norden, California (near Sugarbowl)
indian summer
missing
the smell of rain
5 December 1989, Foster City, California
(this poem was later made into the following haiga by Gary LeBel)
The poems on this page all come from the notebook shown here, covering 1985 to 1993, nearly all written on road trips, since this was my glove-compartment poetry notebook. See also “Godawful Early Haiku,” the hapless predecessor to this page, and see “My Haiku Notebooks.” The first 21 poems here I’d call godawful, followed by 87 that mostly are significantly better, showing a turning point in my understanding of haiku.
om
sweet
om
8 April 1990, Jackson, California
the last spring puddle . . .
four-year-old
in the middle
the sound of one hand clapping . . .
a thalidomide child
does jumping jacks
spring twilight . . .
between darkening trees
a patch of snow
8 April 1990, Kirkwood, California
the mare’s foal
nudging the old stable door . . .
saddle-shaped roof
weathered barn
the owl’s old nest
in the rafters
8 April 1990, Jackson, California
gently rolling hills
a cud-chewing bull
under each tree
freshly ploughed furrows . . .
rain begins to fall
on his corrugated roof
summer sun
on fisherman’s wharf . . .
a gull on every post
8 April 1990, between Jackson and Lockeford, California
Wisconsin sunshine
cattle on a thousand hills
—no bull
8 April 1990, Lockeford, California
mercedez benz
by the red brick schoolhouse
—now a yuppie condo
8 April 1990, near Lockeford, California
munching grass
the long-horn steer
eyes the frog
the lazy turn
of the waterwheel
. . . sunset
8 April 1990, Stockton, California
at the deli
the bald man finds a hair
in his soup
9 April 1990, Foster City, California
(I later revised this to say “at his favourite deli” and this became one of my earliest and favourite published senryu)
in front of the church
the pastor’s parking meter
expires
14 April 1990, Stockton, California
downtown rain
the jazzman
plays his sax
(this poem was published in Frogpond 14:2, Summer 1991, page 13; a few other poems shared here were also eventually published, even if that’s not indicated)
summer heat
through windless leaves
mower sound
across the blacktop
heat ripples
rising
heat haze
the smell of
fresh-cut grass
15 April 1990, Stockton, California
poetry reading
a bubble rises
in the poet’s glass
13 May 1990, Carmel, California
horsetail waves
a bed of kelp rising
falling
13 May 1990, Castroville, California
red daihatsu—
of course she drives
a japanese car
(for Lequita Vance)
13 May 1990, near San Juan Batista, California (click to see a photo of me from this road trip)
moving day—
already missing
the neighbour’s roses
14 May 1990, Foster City, California
a box from granny’s attic—
“string too short
to be saved”
15 May 1990, Foster City, California
first confessional
his parking meter
expired
10 June 1990, Foster City, California
(this poem is a revision of an earlier poem, dated 14 April 1990)
emerging from ground fog
the silver orb
of the watertower
10 March 1991, Lathrop, California (near Stockton)
slowing down
to take a sharp corner—
morning birdsong
10 March 1991, Lockeford, California
logger road—
the sun slants
through wood dust
10 March 1991, Pine Grove, California
winter snowstorm
filling the holes
in a chain link fence
March storm—
an extra layer of wood
at the lumber yard
10 March 1991, Pioneer, California
all at once
three lines of snow
fall across the road
from the telephone wires
just dropped its snow—
a pine bough
bouncing
mid-winter
whitening the bones
of trees
fresh snow—
not minding the slow driver
in front
winter storm watch
with traffic barely moving—
the sound of wet snow
11 March 1991, between Pioneer and Pine Grove, California
a break in traffic—
a bicycle passes
silently
9 December 1991, Foster City, California
after the movie,
the dry patches
in the parking lot
17 December 1991, Riverside, California
billboard lady
in a bikini—
three-car pileup
23 February 1992, Foster City, California
two cigarettes
left at a café table,
still smoking
14 April 1992, San Francisco, California
there and back
on the drive to Tahoe
pine needle in the wiper
27 April 1992, Stockton, California (after driving to Tahoe and back)
country road—
a line of cars
behind the harvester
28 April 1992, Tracy, California
breath of wind—
a blind man’s hand
touches the chime
2 May 1992, Menlo Park, California
after pulling dandelions,
my neighbour pounds an election sign
into his lawn
2 May 1992, Foster City, California
my neighbour pulls dandelions,
then pounds an election sign
into his lawn
1 July 1992, Foster City, California
son’s suicide—
the basketball net’s shadow
on the garage door
11 March 1993, Foster City, California
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