SWINGTALK: PUT THAT SPIDER ON A DIET!
on paring English-language haiku: from a discussion at WHCjapan forum
DW Bender

up and down, up and down, with the cedar swing, a little spider DW Bender

 

 

A designer knows when he has achieved perfection not when there is
nothing left to add, but when there is nothing left to take away.
      —Antoine de Saint-Exupery (1900-44), "Wind, Sand, and Stars", 1939; translation by Lewis Galantiere
 

We Western haiku writers often do strange things with our haiku after we have written them on paper or computer. After a poem comes to our minds, we either put it to our own scrutiny, holding it to the mirror of what we've learned thus far about writing haiku, or to the examination of other people in haiku workshops. For instance, my spider/cedar-swing poem may be too long for haiku, bearing in mind that we haven't got a syllabic norm, nor is our language structured in breath-beats, as in Japanese haiku.

With this in mind, let me examine my early (written in 2000) spider/swing poem, which was written in a sing-song musical cadence to imitate the rhythm of my creaky swing-for-two. I'll reduce it by stages, to examine what sometimes happens in the making of many traditional "American-brand" haiku:


up and down, up
and down, with the cedar swing
a little spider

Problem: Here we have three Japanese kigo: the adjective, cedar, is a Japanese kigo. Here it is used as an adjective saying what wood the swing is made of. Cedar, swing or spider are not established summer kigo in Florida—as yet, we don't have such a thing as established kigo, but some poets like Gabi Greve, are working to help bring the value of kigo to our understanding, and even to give possibilities to regional world kigo. But anyway, "cedar" is unnecessary to the haiku - hack it off with an axe!

up and down, up
and down with the swing
a little spider

Problem: not bad, but here we have a the repetition of "up and down". Is this not a bit redundant for any haiku? We already have the movement stated in the first line.

up and down
with the swing
a little spider

Problem: This is more like it! But every spider is relatively small, and this one has a "little" extra padding — put that spider on a diet, and trim the haiku!

up and down
with the swing
a spider

Problem: there are still 2 Japanese season words/kigo. Which one is more important? Use the one and give the other one to Ms Muffet.

up and down
swings
a spider

Problem: inverted phrasing — try again...and put the kigo, which is the subject of the haiku, in the first line...

a spider
swings up
and down

Problem: oops, no kire, or caesura to make it a 2-part "fragment/phrase" verse.

spider—
swinging
up and down

Problem: to "ing" or not to "ing," that is the question...

spider—
swings up
and down

Problem: well, now it's down to bare bones, but the kire isn't really strong enough. In fact, there isn't really a kire. The haiku should be 2 parts. Toss out the spider and try again with another haiku.

This is an extreme example and done tongue-in-cheek, but it is what generally happens to some degree when we Westerners try to learn to write haiku. Sigh.

I'm only speaking about English-language haiku, not about Japanese-language haiku, and especially not about translations, which can be very difficult—and in which, sometimes, it is necessary to interpret instead of literally translate word-for-word.

Do Japanese haijin also go through these kinds of agonies—trimming words and imagery from their haiku? For English-language haiku poets, such pruning and minimalizing can sometimes can cut away the sense of poetry and feeling of the poem. As one of WHC's members aptly mentioned, pruning is often necessary to hone and perfect the haiku. Brevity is an important aspect of haiku.

 

So is the spider/cedar-swing verse a haiku, or not a haiku? Or is it a short poem? It's "under 17 English syllables," but it's not constructed in the usual way. If it is haiku, what make it so? If it is not, why not? Does it have a haiku-like subject and feel? Does it have too many words and images to meet the standard? Possibly, and probably. Should form and brevity prevail over language-rhythm, subject and meaning? How does an English-language poet weigh the balance?

These are things I think about...although I don't think about them when I'm writing the haiku. I write it, then I think about them—like when sketching, or doing a water-color painting—only you
can erase words, later. When it comes to haiku, like people, art and most things in life, they seem to be, at least for me, more interesting and attractive when they embody a degree of imperfection, a degree of oddity or eccentricity, a degree of uniqueness.

Methinks me thinks too much.
 

Debi

 

A poem is never finished, only abandoned.
     —Paul Valéry (1871-1945)

 

 

 

revised for publication July 16, 2005, DWB

 

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