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4 July 2004. Today, the last (except one I'll be mentioning in tomorrow's entry) of the 41 conventional haiku I got published in the seventies--again, all from Dragonfly):
in the dark river--
reflections of carlights
wrangle with the rain
far downstream
trapped by sandstone boulders:
green-leaved oak branch
October 1977
autumn afternoon;
above motionless small clouds
our jet shudders
in my old home town--
despite a three weeks' search,
not one haiku
January 1978
nearly December;
the woods' many bird-nests
all visible now
April 1978
red ball far downstream
among sandstone boulders--
finally motionless
July heat;
today the neighbor's siamese
ignores me
July 1978
blizzard's aftermath;
the crow on the farmyard gate
makes no comment
late winter evening;
another lap--and the boy
outstrides his father
October 1978
June morning;
cloud-wisps and clean-edged moon
all the same white
January 1979
in and out among
the road's warehouse-reflections--
orange umbrella!
dawn: just a blur
in the frost-coated windshield
of the junked Ford
October 1979
I have little to say about these except that the sandstone boulders two were attempts to get something out of a flood I had first had experience of in Topanga Canyon, and that I really like the cloud wisps one, which may be a level one haiku. Hmmm, thinking about how I couldn't connect it to eternity, I suddenly realized that it compares such a long-lived large thing as the moon to such ephemeral things as clouds; ergo, it's about how wispy everything is in . . . Eternity. But I like it more simply because of the picture it presents.
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