PACE Global Haiku • Spring 2008 Dr. Randy Brooks

Gordon Gilmore • Mykel Board Responses

Chasing The Haigoon: the Haiku of Gordon Gilmore by Gordon Gilmore At the beginning, the meanings of my haiku were either too obscured for readers to catch on to or were not ones of any interest to them. Some of my favorite haiku come from this period (indeed, most of the ones that are in this booklet come from that period,) but it was still something I had to work past. I was originally too stubborn to change my style, thinking that I knew what I was doing well. But then we started writing various types of Rengay, a social form of haiku. When writing these, I came upon the epiphany that haiku was a social art, and what's the point trying to communicate something if you fail to communicate? I know this should seem obvious, but it took me a while to grasp it. I've arranged this book so that you may see a progression in my style, though I have few poems to offer as I did not keep the best record of the ones I had written. It moves from my favorite of my old, to a Rengay, to some of my new ones that play around with structure a bit. He’s a student of philosophy nowadays, though knowing his flippant attitude toward his major he may well be something else tomorrow. He doubts it though, for a major in “thinking” happens to be general enough to work in any category of interest. He hopes you enjoy his haiku.

this trail tapers off too soon— beyond it the horizon

Haigoon The troll had escaped from the little girl’s chest of treasure after hours of toil. Why the girl had spent so much time fussing with its hair it would never know. The hours of torture were excruciating. Day in and day out the troll was forced to ride upon one of these “My Little Ponies” the girl was so enthused with. He would ride on these blue and pink ponies that had little stars on their bottoms through barnyards and through pink castles. The troll didn’t think the girl had any idea what the world was like outside. And she kept dressing him in long gowns! This was the most insulting thing of all! He was the most masculine troll he had ever met (the only one at that, but that’s another matter) and thus such acts were most insulting to him. Finally, he could escape and await the three goats underneath his bridge…now if only he’d remembered where that bridge was! imagined life yearning for imagined freedom

the trees tremble in the wind— your sleeping eyelids

shadows stretch                       to the side— summer noon?

a shrouded shore laced in autumn mist eyes closed unable to recall her name a patch of withered grass blades bending steps retraced in my mind before the dawn moon set a cardinal's call curve of a storm front darkens the horizon (opening rengay with Dr. Brooks)

© 2008, Randy Brooks • Millikin University
All rights returned to authors upon publication.