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Miriam Borne: Haiku of the People
by Brett Coffman
A haiku is a short poem that usually captures the essence of a moment. The common assumption about haiku is that it has to be a 5-7-5 syllable poem. That is, the first line has to have five syllables, the second seven, and the third must has five again. Most American haiku writers do not go by this guideline; instead, they have a form of “free-form haiku”. This free verse haiku tries to capture and convey the essence of a moment for the reader while including some other underlying themes. The main reason Americans don’t go by the original guideline is because the traditional 17 syllable (5+7+5 = 17) haiku is substantially longer in English then it is in Japanese. Thus, most English writers use about 10 to 14 syllables with no real pattern. There are many haiku writers in America; however, I wish to present one in particular. Her name is Miriam Borne.
Miriam Borne was born in California and was a “… dancer and poet who enjoys crossing boundaries” (Haiku North America). In 1994 she became part of two haiku organizations: the Haiku Society of America and the Spring Street Poets. Also, “Since 2000, she has included poetry in her dances” (Haiku North America). She teaches at a Brooklyn high school in New York City, and is trained in “… Ballet, Modern, Hindu, Flamenco, Theater Dance and Yoga” (Haiku North America). Also, she is become the “Regional Coordinator” of the “Northeast Metro” for the Haiku Society of America (HSA-haiku).
Following each of Borne's haiku I will describe what the haiku makes me think of, and I will give my personal opinion about why I think it was written in such a manner. It should be noted that what I suggest isn’t the “correct” interpretation of the given haiku. This is especially true when considering that everyone will interpret a haiku in his or her own unique way. What I’m writing will, hopefully, help those new to haiku obtain a general understanding of what haiku is all about; and for those who are experienced with haiku, I hope to present them with alternative views on Borne’s haiku. Of course, I also hope to present more information and insight into Borne herself.
The first haiku I’m responding to is a prime example of how a haiku can be taken in multiple ways. The haiku is as follows:
long meeting
I study the pattern
embossed on the napkin
Spring Street Haiku Group, In the Waterfall (1997)
The situation I thought of when I first saw this haiku was a literal one. I got the mental image of a person at a painfully boring meeting. As the minutes turn into hours, the person looks at a napkin and realizes that it has an incredibly detailed design around the edge of it. Slowly the person shifts their attention from the speaker to the napkin. After the meeting the person realizes that he or she has missed out on the most important aspects of the meeting.
A second interpretation I thought of recently takes a different perspective of the haiku. Instead of being a worker in a meeting, it’s a child going out to eat with a group of adults. For me, taking it in this sense, it brings back a bunch of memories of how bored I used to get when I’d go out with my parents and their friends to dinner. At all the restaurants they would have the little kid's sheet; the sheet that had a few mazes on it and usually a few riddles. After about five minutes, however, I’d have them all figured out, and then I’d begin to bug my parents: questioning them on how much longer it was going to be until we got our food. After I pestered them enough, one of them would play a little game, like Tic-Tac-Toe, with me—usually on one of the napkins. Eventually, however, my parent would get sucked back into the “adult” conversation, and I would be left bored and hungry. I can actually recall times like this when I would literally look at the pattern on the napkin. To me, it was like sitting through a painfully long “adult” meeting. Eventually, the food would come and we’d eat, but then afterwards my parents and their friends would all start talking again. I’d pester my parents again but this time they’d tell me to be patient, so I’d go back to studying the pattern on the napkin.
The third, final, and somewhat bizarre interpretation this haiku has made me think of is a crime scene investigation. A policeman or policewoman has brought back some evidence from the scene of a crime; one of the pieces of the evidence happens to be a napkin. Before any studying of the evidence is done, a long meeting is held as the chief of the station explains that this case is important and the suspect has been involved in a long string of similar cases. After that, one of the detectives begins studying the pattern on the napkin. Not because he wishes to see consistency, rather, he wishes to see something different. Something that would suggest that there’s more to the napkin then meets the eye, and that it could be a crucial piece of evidence.
As one can see, there are multiple ways to interpret a haiku. Some of these interpretations will be similar, while others will be completely different. That’s the basis for this haiku. I believe she wrote it to be this open. That’s why she never really defined who’s studying the napkin. Is it a bored employee, an impatient child, or a detective? It’s up to the reader to find out. The same goes for the long meeting; she never indicates what type of meeting it is or if its even going on while the person is studying the napkin. The person could be studying it after a meeting, ruminating on what was discussed. This broader perspective gives the reader more room to make their own interpretations about the haiku. Something else I noticed is the fact that this haiku gets progressively longer; both in actual measure and syllables. In order to present my hunch more clearly, I’ll write what I think next to each line:
long meeting (Shortest line, 3 syllables)
I study the pattern (Medium line, 6 syllables)
embossed on the napkin (Longest line, 6 syllables)
It is possible that this is all coincidental, but I think there more to it than that. I think that the progressively larger size, both measure and syllable, has an underlying meaning signifying how the meeting seems to be getting bigger and longer as it goes on.
The second haiku I’m responding to isn’t as open-ended as the first, but still has a few possible interpretations. The second haiku is as follows:
walking home late
she keeps watching
her shadows
Spring Street Haiku Group, In the Waterfall (1997)
The first interpretation I get from this is pretty straightforward. It’s late at night and a young girl is walking home from her friend’s house. The only lights that will guide her home are streetlights. Every once in awhile she hears a noise, and because she’s so young, she immediately perceives it as a threat: in this case, a stalker. As soon as she makes that assumption her adrenaline starts racing and she starts walking faster. Every time she hears the noise now she jumps and speeds up that much more. This goes on until she’s running home from a danger that doesn’t really exist.
The second, and final, interpretation of this haiku involves a really young girl. The child is in kindergarten to be precise. A child that age would be more likely to believe in more fantasy oriented subjects. By this I mean, a child would be more likely to believe in what isn’t really there: i.e. an imaginary friend. So now the scenario is, after a long day at the park, the sun is setting and a young girl is walking home with her family. As she’s going home she sees these “people” who are on the ground behind her parents. As her parents have a conversation and make gestures these “ground people” come to life before her eyes. So on the way home she keeps watching these “ground people” and eventually, notices that behind her is a “ground person”. In essence, she has become friends with her, and her parent’s, shadows.
This haiku wasn’t as open as the first one. It created a more direct scene, and created a more specific environment and atmosphere. One thing I did find interesting however, is that Borne used “shadows” instead of “shadow”, implying that there was more than one. This may seem insignificant, but a closer look at the word “shadow” reveals that there may be a double meaning intended here. The general meaning of shadow is when a person’s body is cast on the ground when light is shinned on it from a given angle; like the shadows the girl became “friends” with in my second interpretation. However, it should also be noted that shadow can mean to suggest, a specter or ghost, a reflected image, a dominate or pervasive threat/atmosphere, inseparable companion, or a person who follows another person in order to keep watch upon that person (dictionary.com). All of the sudden, this haiku opens up and depending on how the reader chooses to define the word “shadow” can create a multitude of interpretations, each varying from one another. Now, instead of a young girl afraid of some stalker, it could be female agent realizing that a spy is following her. It could also be a woman taking her dogs (or inseparable companions) out on a late night walk. It could also imply a combination of things by mixing the different meanings. Taking my first interpretation, it could mean that the young girl thought a person was following her and it created a threatening atmosphere. The possibilities are limitless.
The third haiku I’m responding to is even stricter than the second one. It almost creates a whole scene within itself, without any outside input. It is as follows:
my uncle’s magnifying glass
enlarges the stains
on his tablecloth
Spring Street Haiku Group, In the Waterfall (1997)
The first interpretation I came up with is pretty much the haiku but expanded a bit. A young child’s parents are taking him or her to their uncle’s house where the child will spend the night. The child is thrilled to see his or her uncle, and after they get done waving goodbye to the child’s parents, the child’s uncle gets out a box of old “toys”. The child takes immediate interest in an old magnifying glass. Encourage by his or her uncle, the child pretends to be a detective. The child is now “Sherlock Homes”, and his or her uncle is “Watson”. Later in the night the child discovers a stain on the tablecloth that the uncle had never noticed. Surprised by this discovery, he gets the child to go to sleep, and he begins cleaning up the stain.
The second interpretation I got from this haiku is a little more solemn. Someone’s uncle has recently passed away, and while the family is going through his belongings, they find a magnifying glass. Paying little attention to it, they set it on the table. As they go through more of his belongings, stories start to be remembered and discussed. Eventually a story comes up about the time they accidentally stained the tablecloth when they spilt some paint on it. Everyone gets a good laugh out of it, until they realize that the magnifying glass is actually emphasizing the stain. The good feeling vanishes, and the atmosphere is more depressing then before.
The third, and final, interpretation takes a different perspective. Instead of someone using their uncle’s magnifying glass, he himself is using it. I imagine a really finicky man, who has to have everything spotless. While one of his relatives is visiting, they accidentally spill something on the table. The uncle begins to freak out, but the relative simply grabs a napkin and wipes the mess off of the table. However, this isn’t good enough for the uncle, who swears that there’s something still there. Desperate to prove his point, he goes to his cabinet and pulls out a magnifying glass and closely scans the table. Triumphantly, the uncle points to a minute stain and cleans it up.
This haiku has a very focused scene. It will be different for everyone, but for each person there will not be much “variety” in the interpretations. The main reason for this is because it says “my uncle” in the first line. So immediately the picture of the reader’s uncle(s) appears in his or her head. The haiku also is pretty blunt with what happens: the reader’s uncle’s magnifying glass enlarges a stain on the tablecloth. However, this more direct approach provides a neat perspective. Instead of having the haiku seem somewhat distant and vague, this one is more intimate and can make the reader recall more intimate memories. The haiku also seems to reinforce itself, because it slowly gets smaller (in literal size at least). It’s like the haiku is emphasizing on point in particular as the magnifying glass picks out an object.
The fourth haiku I’m responding to is a more general one; like the first one. However, at this point I’ve established a base for Borne’s haiku, so I’m going to limit the rest of the haiku I discuss from here on to only one interpretation. The fourth haiku is as follows:
after the shooting
yellow tape around
the empty space
Snow on the Water (Red Moon Anthology 1998)
The most profound interpretation I got from this haiku was the scene it created in my mind. I watch shows like Law & Order, CSI, and Bones in my spare time so when I saw this haiku I immediately thought of a crime scene. I can imagine my favorite characters from those shows looking at the body to try and determine from which angel he was shot and where the shooter was standing. They’d also be scouring the ground, trying to locate any evidence or anything that might point towards evidence. There would be people lining up around the yellow tape looking into this “empty space”, where there were nothing but officers trying to figure out a crime.
This haiku isn’t really written in any special manner. It doesn’t seem to focus on anything, and there isn’t any word play: it is as it comes. This may seem to take away from the haiku, making it seem like it’s empty. However, I think this is exactly what the author intended. To create a solemn theme around the subject and make it seem devoid of life. The haiku in general seems to imply that there’s an empty space that no one wants to walk near for one reason or another.
The fifth haiku I’m responding to describes an everyday experience. This makes it open for interpretation; however, everyone will interpret it in his or her own way based on how its written. In essence, it’s similar to the third haiku I presented in the sense that it creates a somewhat direct scene that everyone can relate to, but will interpret differently, The haiku is:
white stuccoed ceiling
in its pattern she measures
the pain of getting up
Spring Street Haiku Group
Before I get into my interpretation, the definition of “stuccoed” is “any of various fine plasters for decorative work, molding, and etc.” (Dictionary.com). Basically, it’s the type of ceiling with all of those little bumps on it (I think so at least). Based on that definition, this haiku makes me think of a woman who can’t get to sleep. She tosses around in her bed for hours to no avail. Eventually she stares straight up at her ceiling, and slowly begins to see a patter. It has a lullaby-like effect, and in no time she’s on the verge of falling asleep. As goes to close her eyes however, her alarm clock begins ringing furiously. It’s time for her to get up and go to work. Before she gets out of bed she takes on last look at the ceiling, and she figures out why it was lulling her to sleep. The pattern looked like sheep; which is ironic, because it’s what she’s getting up to work on. She is a sheep farmer, and the pattern reminds her of just how much work she has to do when she gets up.
Like in the previous haiku, this one doesn’t really have anything too unique about it. However, it is written in such a way as to suggest much, without really giving the whole story. By this I mean that in the whole haiku, it doesn’t say anything about lying down. Yet, when you read it, it gives the reader the perspective that he or she is lying on something and looking up at the ceiling. Thus, while it’s not “special” so to speak, it flows excellently and creates a more intimate atmosphere like the third haiku I presented did.
I’m going to pair the final haiku I’m presenting with another one. The haiku on top will be by Borne while the other will be by Masajo Suzuki. Comparing works of haiku authors cannot only create interesting interpretations, but it can also help the reader understand both of the poets better, and in some cases establish a connection between them. The haiku I’m presenting are as follows:
the dancer practices
rising and balancing—
long checkout line
Thin Curve (Red Moon Anthology 1999)
fortune at last
comes my way—
peach trees blooming
Suzuki, LH, 87
These two haiku together create a story in my head that starts in Japan. There’s a young person who hasn’t had the easiest life. In fact, their whole life has been filled with hardships and he or she never seems to catch a break. Even when the person goes out shopping, they always seem to be last in line in a long checkout line. The person always stays cheerful though, and while the person is waiting in the check out line he or she does funny little dances. A talent agent, however, happens to sees one of these dances and is intrigued. Following the person, the agent watches the person sit his or her bags down near a tree and, with no one else in sight, begins dancing. The agent is enthralled by the performance, which is simply the person dancing under blooming peach trees, and startles the person by asking them if they’d like a job in acting. All of the sudden, this life of hardships is no more as the person is elevated to stardom. There is no more “practicing” in long checkout lines; instead, it’s performing under the peach trees.
These two haiku work well together because they are similar and different at the same time. Borne’s haiku seems to imply that a person is bored, dancing just to pass the time in a long check out line. However, Suzuki’s haiku seems to suggest that someone unfortunate, such as the person waiting in line, has discovered great fortune. These two haiku together seem to express the whole “rag to riches” idea in American society. Borne’s haiku is written in such a way that it seems to take the act of a professional actor dancing, and turn it into some mundane task. This compliments Suzuki’s haiku, because her haiku seems to indicate that someone of the middle class has stumbled upon fortune while in the midst of a relatively common occurrence.
While I may not have been able to get as much information on Borne as I would’ve liked to, I have gained some valuable insight into her work. First off, she seems to be able to use all of the levels of involvement pretty well. That is, she can write haiku like the first one I presented, that are incredibly open or haiku like the third one I presented, that are more narrow. Also, all of her haiku seem to have a human element in them. All of the haiku that I’ve read by her seem to indicate, in one way or another, humans going about certain tasks or about human nature in general. With that all said, I think Borne is an intriguing person and an excellent haiku poet. I hope in the future I can read more of her work.
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Works Cited
Borne, Miriam. After Lights Out. Ed. Evetts, Dee. New York: Spring Street Haiku Group, 1996.
Borne, Miriam. In the Waterfall. Ed. Evetts, Dee. New York: Spring Street Haiku Group, 1997.
Borne, Miriam. Snow on the Water: The Red Moon Anthology of English-Language Haiku. Ed. Kacian, Jim. Berryville, VA: Red Moon Press, 1999.
Borne, Miriam. The Thin Curve: The Red Moon Anthology of English-Language Haiku. Ed. Kacian, Jim. Berryville, VA: Red Moon Press, 2000.
Suzuki, Masajo. Love Haiku. Translated by Lee Gurga & Emiko Miyashita. Decatur, IL: Brooks Books, 2000.
“Haiku North America 2003.” Haiku North America. 2003. 27 April, 2008. http://www.haikunorthamerica.com/archives/hna2003_website_archive.pdf
“Haiku” Wikipedia. 28 April, 2008. 28 April, 2008. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Haiku
Works Cited
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