Global Haiku • Spring 2014
Dr. Randy Brooks

A Hunt for Haiku

by
Dillon Damarin

Introduction

In A Hunt for Haiku you will find haiku that has stemmed from occurrences that I have witnessed for myself while hunting, fishing, camping, or anything else that I may do while being outdoors. It is important to note that the concept that I have attempted to use is that of sabi, or the state of aloneness. When I say aloneness, I do not mean the kind of aloneness that contemporary Westerners associate with sadness and depression, but rather the state of aloneness that Matsuo Basho instituted into some of his greatest haiku centuries ago. For one to be able to experience this state, it must be quiet, he or she must be focused, still, and observant. The instances that are witnessed can be anything from the call of a dove to a fight amongst squirrels. It is the observation of seeing something so tiny and finite in the huge expanse of the universe completing the one task that it was put here to do. One thing is for certain: without instituting this concept and being out in the natural world, all sorts of beautiful and simple, yet complex and horrifying, occurrences will be missed.

Much of the style, aspiration, and guidance in the writing of this haiku has come from Robert Spiess and his excellent execution of the concept of sabi in his book, The Turtle’s Ears.

Biography

Dillon Damarin is a Sophomore Management major at Millikin University that was born and raised in Central Illinois. He loves to be outdoors whether he is hunting, hiking, or camping. Dillon has titled his collection “A Hunt for Haiku.” This is because much of the inspiration for his haiku comes from occurrences that he has observed while doing the things that he loves. Much of his inspiration and guidance for his haiku has come from Robert Spiess’ work in his book The Turtle’s Ears.

off the beaten path
every single turn
a million dollar view

the hot tub’s bubbles stop
. . . my sister cringes
as i make my own

tail rustling leaves,
the big rat snake
acts dangerous

owl and turkey
a conversation in the land
between two rivers

big black eyes
seeing all that pass
the old sycamore

as wings cup up
and honks get closer
my therapy begins

mild spring evening
corn field covered by snow
geese

warm summer breeze
cattails swaying
not even a nibble

the red sun falls
behind the ridge
the creek’s melody

daddy gave me
the old wooden rifle
his daddy gave him

decoys bobbing
honkers cupped up
—take ‘em

mob of crows
swarming around
the gut pile

the creekbed,
a red dirt road
through the forest

the coots dance
across the lake’s surface
amidst blossoming trees

purple clouds,
a turkey vulture sits
on a broken branch

spring turkey season
walking through the woods
—morels