café window, snow

café window, snow
we watch it fall and dissolve
my daughter and I

dreary winter day

dreary winter day
but snow, like powdered sugar,
sweetens the fields

walking against wind

walking against wind
determined eyes, wide open
to the icy burn

first frost, windshield gloss

first frost, windshield gloss
my son scrapes it into snow
inconvenient joy

windows creak, mournful,

windows creak, mournful,
aching push of restless wind
as winter whispers

ready hands, white keys

ready hands, white keys
simple Mozart melody
piano lesson

slender crescent moon

slender crescent moon
in delicate solitude
ennobles the night

take another look

take another look:
beauty sleeps for cynics, but
dances for dreamers

This haiku is a rebuttal to my last post. Yes, I am arguing with myself... "Do I contradict myself? Very well then I contradict myself," -Whitman

when the last leaves fall

when the last leaves fall
the starkness of bare branches
robs autumn's beauty

day moon, white thumbprint

day moon, white thumbprint
opposite the rising sun
sometimes night lingers

fall, front yard football,

fall, front yard football,
tackle dad, grab the fumble
leafy leap - touchdown!

cold, clear autumn night

cold, clear autumn night
the full moon reigns in stillness
casting its halo

standing amid trees

standing amid trees
leaves swirl, falling one by one,
whisper: dust to dust

before sunrise, watch:

before sunrise, watch:
the sky aches in blue darkness,
anticipating

close your eyes; listen.

close your eyes; listen.
Haydn symphony, The Bear:
the language of joy

rambling hay ride

rambling hay ride
take my coat, son, watch for ghosts!
fall family rite

fall leaves, blazing red

fall leaves, blazing red,
death met with intensity:
bold, vibrant exit

rain in the distance

rain in the distance:
grey curtain, heavy hanging,
approaching slowly

Simplicity

"Simplicity is the highest goal, achievable when you have overcome all difficulties." - Frédéric Chopin

autumn afternoon

autumn afternoon
search for life at the frog pond
dense with tangled moss

October, crisp breeze

October, crisp breeze,
pull your jacket close, inhale:
crystalline vigor

crickets’ rhythmic call

crickets’ rhythmic call
ebb and flow of listless night
surging, receding

Perception and the illusion of objectivity

dripping grit, oiled spit
a rusting train pushes through
glistening black rain

There is a scene from one of the men in black movies where government agent “k” is trying to convince a young woman that she is in fact a member of alien royalty, with extraordinary abilities, a proposition the young woman isn’t buying:

Agent K: When you get sad it always seems to rain.
Laura: Lots of people get sad when it rains!
Agent K: It rains because you're sad, baby.

So it is for the artist. It rains because we are sad. Kind of.

I wrote the haiku at the top of the post early this morning, thinking back on the scene from yesterday. It was an exceedingly shitty day, capped off by being rained out of a tennis game, heading home on the expressway the wrong way in the middle of a thunder storm, and then pulling off at the nearest exit only to be stopped by this lumbering train.

The haiku employs ugly descriptors (grit, spit) and cynisim (glistening black rain) to describe the bleak scene. While writing the haiku it seemed perfectly objective to me to use these words – this was the reality, I was only describing the scene. That is something I’ve been trying on and off for with some of my haiku, to see if I can just purely describe a scene without drawing conclusions or implying meaning.

For instance, I could describe a sunset as “sparkling beauty” or, say, as “a pink and blue cascade.” To me the first is more subjective (I am calling it beautiful) while the second is more objective (I am simply describing what I see).

This is an illusion however. The second is only more subtly subjective, not objective. After roughly five months of doing this it hit me that what I choose to write about and the words I choose to describe it betray any true attempt at objectivity. Choice = subjectivity.

It rains because we are sad. The train is gritty and black because I am pissed off. We notice these things and craft the words to frame them based on our perception, which is shaped by our emotions and experiences. The same train described by someone in a more pleasant frame of mind would take on a whole different description, perhaps “a noble, well-worn train/ gliding through the gentle rain.” Or perhaps it wouldn't be noticed at all.

We inject the meaning into reality, there is no escaping it. Even the most bare-boned description of something is still revealing by the very fact we chose to describe it. The world contains infinite possiblities of scenes and things that can be noticed, so in choosing to notice something we are already giving it special status. There is no hope for pure aesthetic detachment.

I’m not sure what the implications of all this are exactly, except to realize what a powerful thing our own perceptions are. I don’t say this in a positive-thinking sort of way, like we should all start describing the train as beautiful and it will make us happy. That would lack artistic integrity. Rather, perhaps we should simply remember that even the descriptive haiku is never simply an aesthetic exercise, but a telling snapshot of who we are and how we perceive the world around us at any given moment.

riverside harbor

riverside harbor
sunset plays on gentle waves
glimmers while we dine

riverside concert

riverside concert
jug-blown jazz, swing razzle-dazz,
the past leaps to life

solitary fields

solitary fields
rolled haystacks, temporal mounds,
bowed before sunset

shadow play, mid-day

shadow play, mid-day,
leafy dance of shifting shapes
painted by the breeze

robed in morning fog

robed in morning fog
the world reduced, a stone’s throw,
recast in mystery.

cloud shroud, first-light fog

cloud shroud, first-light fog,
misted ghosts of distant trees:
soft grey silhouettes

the leaves fade, slowly,

the leaves fade, slowly,
green succumbs to gold and red,
dying beautifully

sunset and moonrise

sunset and moonrise:
orange and white, full circle,
balance is beauty

august morning chill

august morning chill,
mist of mid-summer night's dream,
fall arrives unseen

lavender last light

lavender last light
"the first falling star, my love,"
bewitched night beauty

waxed green-gold cornstalks

waxed green-gold cornstalks
collective bend in the wind,
waving without end

beauty and the boy

beauty and the boy
new shoes, backpacks - happy rain -
time marches, school starts...

night breeze, summer sigh

night breeze, summer sigh,
stars obscured by moving clouds,
silent passersby

Black Clouds

Yesterday was my 5yr old's first day at school. She looked scared. It made me think about what this whole experience must be like for her. She has no idea what to expect. Her parents, the two people she trusts, are ushering her into a vehicle full of kids she dosen't know. They're all bigger than her and are still young enough to think it's ok to stare at people. Man. How could we do this to her?

Black clouds billow from
yellow beast full of strangers.
Tiny feet, large steps.

Black clouds, yellow beast
Small feet climb black rubber steps
Head back. Wings out. Soar.

sturgeon moon, reddish loom

sturgeon moon, reddish loom,
low glow above black fenced fields:
waning summer fade

blackened clouds billow

blackened clouds billow,
darkened surge dissolving day
into morning-night

black kid, violin

black kid, violin,
beethoven for a buck, man:
concrete concert hall

downtown, soaring sky

downtown, soaring sky,
sparkling swirl of city lights:
fluorescent sunset

bright night, baseball game

bright night, baseball game,
sweet, salty summer goodbye:
"cold beer, peanuts here!"

hammock, summer sway

hammock, summer sway,
my daughter rests on my chest
twirls her sun brown curls

twilight blue lit leaves

twilight blue lit leaves
still beneath the starless sky
day gives way to night

summer morning fog

summer morning fog:
hills disappear in the mist
of steamed white sunrise

roadside, homeless man

roadside, homeless man
composing words on cardboard
in bold black letters

summer, lazy rain

summer, lazy rain
falls from cloudless, bright blue sky
sun watered rainbow

dead leaves in the grass

dead leaves in the grass
mud-bronzed autumnal fossils
mowed beneath to dust

high dive, sky blue leap

high dive, sky blue leap
little legs tucked and trembling --
freefall, cannonball!

summer sidewalk chalk

summer sidewalk chalk:
color joy, smudged hands engrave
the cracking concrete

white paper birch tree

white paper birch tree,
little fingers peeling bark:
unraveled wonder

jogging at daybreak

jogging at daybreak
sun rising behind a veil
of white, rain-glazed dawn

fireworks in rain

fireworks in rain:
streaming showers of color
ignite shrouds of mist

tree hedged country lane

tree hedged country lane
rusted red tractor carries
stacks of sun hued hay

june moon, mirror-sun

june moon, mirror-sun
recasts the day-tired landscape
with white lucency

evening, bugs singing

evening, bugs singing -
Beethoven cannot compare
to this symphony

water-splashed laughter

water-splashed laughter
breathless blue escape from heat
first swim of summer

fading summer sun

fading summer sun
orange rays emblaze the sky
and sear earthen barns

green-grey rain hued park

green-grey rain hued park
old woman grasps umbrella:
silent summer ghost

moonless purple night

moonless purple night
sweet musk of spring-summer rain
lightening bugs flash, fade

bullying thunder

bullying thunder,
black clouds gather. Yet, birds sing:
defiant beauty

clouds tower below

Just got back from a week in Italy. The plane trip home inspired this one...

clouds tower below
above, blue eternity
miracle of flight

storm thundered morning

storm thundered morning
deep in brushing rain she sleeps
hand resting in mine

Stealing from the Master

The first two lines of this Haiku are from the Kurosawa film classic Rashomon. I thought they were two beautiful thought provoking lines that would work well in Haiku. Last line's all me. I'm awesome like that.

Life’s ephemeral,
As fleeting as morning dew.
Still the Robin sings.

night falls and spring breathes

night falls and spring breathes
leaves like fingers grasp the wind
then fall still again

consider lilies

consider lilies:
seared streaks of pink vibrancy
envy of fashion

-Luke 12:27

cardinal, red flash

cardinal, red flash
heart of leafy green maple
darts between branched veins

star dies, shards of light

An uplifting haiku for the day...

star dies, shards of light
pierce the black fabric of space
splintered universe

Rollerskating with Quinn

I wrote this one a few weeks ago on one of the first days of spring. I had just come home from work, walked into the house and found my 4 yr old daughter, Quinn, getting her Dora® rollerskates on. Without waiting for me to close the door behind me she said, " Hey Daddy. Wanna' play with me?" Heck yeah I did.

Rollerskate laughter.
Warm breeze drifts through budding tree.
Time alone with Quinn.

erratic, graceful

I think it's funny how butterflies dart around like crazy, instead of flying smoothly like a bird. I wonder what that's all about. The other day my son was trying to catch some in a butterfly net. After a couple of failed attempts, I pointed one out to him sitting nice and still. Turns out it was a wasp. Ok, so that's not really relevant, but it's a funny story.

erratic, graceful
butterflies, drunk on May wind
flex their wings and fly

Looks like Dad was right.

Thinking about all of the things I thought I would do with my life. Turns out I like watching TV much more than pursuing my dreams.

wasted potential
no one knocked on my door
looks like Dad was right

spring clouds, blue with rain

haiku for a rainy wednesday...

spring clouds, blue with rain
pregnant, milky swaths of storm
drench the dirt with life

a long, sleepless night

Below was my first attempt in crafting a Haiku. I was laying in bed and my mind felt like it was being consumed in a web of self doubt. All these questions - Am I a good father? Am I a good Husband? What am I doing with my life? Why do I do the things I do? - all of this stuff, just keeping me from sleeping. So I decided to write a haiku. I mean, what else do you do when you can't sleep?

Night. Awake. Staring.
Inside, raging confusion.
Finally sleep comes.

morning lit window

morning lit window
rising sun through tree branches
webs of dew-dripped light

About this blog

We are two dorky white dudes who like Chinese and Japanese art and music, samurai films, and yes, haikus -- those profound little three line poems that in ancient times were said to take a lifetime to master. Well, we don’t have a lifetime to devote to this but we’re willing to give it a year. Hope you’ll join us on this journey and comment with your own haiku poetry when the muse hits you.