emily evans fall 2004

tearing lettuce, a journey through sabi Introduction Many of these haiku were written in the morning. Just after the alarm, sitting up in bed—in that space where thoughts drip slowly. Lee Gurga, editor of "Modern Haiku," may stutter to name them "desk haiku"—forced and unspontaneous. He would hold some truth; how many poets set their alarm to wake up and write haiku? Squeak in 30 morning minutes for writing? Here is the confession: I wrote this collection in the morning, because Sabi is in the stillness of the morning. Sabi is a state of loneliness, with undertones of melancholy, but also with a shade of tranquility. I find sabi in the morning—waking up alone, ever reminded that my roommate is at her boyfriend's house. The apartment is quiet, grey light seeps through the blinds, there is a moment of sadness. But then sabi comes: I am content, alone, being. The collection presents two kinds of sabi. The haiku begin to build in melancholy with tearing lettuce as we used to tears fall into the bowl This haiku signals a departure of someone, possibly an end to an era. The reader can see someone tearing lettuce alone, making dinner for one. The sadness of sabi builds up to hiking ahead he blends in perfectly— lonely mountain valley Here the collection reaches a lonely peak. The reader feels the loneliness between the two hikers, but at the same time, doesn't feel desolate. There is a sense of beauty in the collaboration of nature, and the movement of content-aloneness in the world. From here the haiku lighten in sabi, and a feeling of tranquility is reached. making dinner for myself i light candles In this haiku, the collection reaches a conclusion. We have traveled from sadness through loneliness, and now we are finally content-happy to simply be and contribute our energy to the universe.

Reader's Response hiking ahead he blends in perfectly— lonely mountain valley This haiku strikes me at my very soul. The feeling I get upon reading it is one of loneliness—and not so much from the word "lonely" but actually more from the first line. It seems that he is deliberately hiking ahead of her . . . or is she deliberately hiking behind him? This is a question that could only be answered by the haiku writer. Whichever it may be, however, I do feel the need to clarify that it is not loneliness in a bad sense—it is more independence and calm. Some of the best moments I have had in life could be described as lonely, as I do not feel that loneliness has to be a bad feeling. The beautiful image that this haiku brings to my mind makes me with that I were there to have experienced that moment. on the bench waiting for the bus no one speaks I love this haiku because of the simple truth that it speaks. It does not describe something rare or unusual, but rather something that anyone could witness on any given day in any place. In that sense, I find this haiku's brilliance. Not many people take time to notice "little things" these days—we are all too busy scurrying about our so-called "busy" lives. The fact alone that Emily Evans takes the time to appreciate all aspects of life enough to even notice this situation shows me that she is truly a great person . . . and the fact that she can capture the moment so well in so few words shows that she is also a truly great writer. —Jenn Van Natta