The Triple Tanka String: An Introduction

by Kenneth Tanemura

First published in Woodnotes #24, Spring 1995, pages 32–33. This sort of linked verse, together with the “double tanka string,” is essentially a variation of rengay that uses tanka instead of haiku while promoting thematic development, which is central to rengay. It seemed not to catch on, or at least not by this name, but it was a reach for innovation that was common in the 1990s with Haiku Poets of Northern California members.

The triple tanka string is a variation on the double tanka string, invented by Sanford Goldstein and myself. The first double tanka string was published in Frogpond Vol. XVII, No. 1, Spring 1994. The triple tanka string is similar to renku in that it is a form of linked verse, yet different because it uses tanka and breaks many of the rules of renku by employing techniques of narrative, often serving as a dialogue between two or more poets on a chosen theme. Renku is more encompassing than a tanka string, and attempts to express an array of subjects, images, and experiences. The triple tanka string is thus more limited in scope, but is more autobiographical, and the focus given to a single theme, mood, or subject is primarily what distinguishes it from renku, though it is, in a rudimentary way, derived from renku. Sticking to a particular theme is not necessary, but maintaining a thematic unity is important. In a triple tanka string, each verse responds to the preceding poet’s experience, sharing a new one. Each poet’s perspective is meshed into a unifying vision. “Intimations” [shown below] was written at Pat Shelley’s home in Saratoga, California on December 28, 1994, and is the first triple tanka string to be published in North America.

Intimations: A Triple Tanka String

by Pat Shelley, David Rice, and Kenneth Tanemura


what I tell you

may not be true

I create my life as I go

on intimations

of my mortality Pat

red sky at dawn

I watch the clouds change shape

why do I think

I have to be myself

when the sky can’t contain me David

the library

filling with books

out of print—

outside, leaves scattered

on the garden floor Kenneth

how often I say

my house, my garden, my dog,

my sons, my life,

do I really believe

they all belong to me? Pat

together

we make a kind of love

that will remain

long after I forget

what we ate for lunch David

while thinking

of a poem

this December afternoon

time seemed to stop

but my tea turned cold Kenneth