EN340 / IN350 Global Haiku Tradition
Dr. Randy Brooks
Spring 2004 |
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Spring
Moon Sets:
Haiku from Damaged Gray Matter
by
Casey Wilen
Somewhere
between the first drink of the night, and the last, there
is always a haiku moment. I have most of my haiku moments
somewhere around when the moon sets because I am finally alone
for along enough period to really notice what is going on
around me. This is my haiku time, a time when the world is
quiet enough that I can think about the occurrences of the
day, the humorous encounters, and the little moments of intrigue
in between. This is when I write my haiku, and often times
due to a mixture of things (alcohol, cigarettes, and sleep
depravation) cause my haiku to become twisted, warped, funny,
witty, or depressing. These are the moments I have as the
Spring Moon Sets, and when the rusty gears upstairs start
to turn.
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I
believe that you may be offended by my haiku at first, or
you may not understand it, and its even possible that
you will not even feel that it is haiku at all, but before
you make any decisions about it, read each haiku at least
three times aloud, and really look at the words, and what
is being said. You may now proceed to read this collection,
but I warn you, you may want to have a martini before you
do, just to limber up the mind a bit, these haiku are most
affective on the inebriated mind, because an inebriated
mind is where they came from. Casey Wilen
I
enjoyed the double meanings and especially the deceptive
cadence-esque endings to many of the haikus. One such example
of the deceptive cadence that I particularly enjoyed was:
glass
streets
starlings cluster on the curb
to eat french fries
By
reading from the first to the last, you can perceive his
progression in becoming comfortable with the haiku. The
grittiness of the beginning delicately contrasts the sophistication
that is finally achieved by the end. The work taken as a
whole is a monument, not to the virtue of perfection, but
the virtue in improvement. Evan Ewing
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inhaling
cold
crackle of a burning
cigarette
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spring
evening
she beats me in Golden Tea
. . . again
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wet forehead
the ceiling is leaking
again
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on
the porch
the conversation snuffed
by a passing train
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garage
door opens
the cat's blood stains
are now brown
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splash
. . .
a friend's face drips
holy water
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couch
on the porch
spring
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Ctrl
+ Alt + Del
static monitor fizzles when
it storms
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by
the radiator
cocooned in a sleeping bag
I hate my roommate
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a
flat beer,
my last cigarette,
spring moon sets
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©2004 Randy Brooks, Millikin University, Decatur, Illinois || all rights reserved for original authors
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