The content of this haiku was actually an image that presented itself to me, offering as it does a compelling juxtaposition and a host of associations that create themselves from the framed combination.
The “stain” of the moon is of course the white light that brought the gloves out of the landscape, if you will. It also makes us think about the sharpened sticks, their purpose, differently. There is no reason to think of blood, but we think of blood, and then the narrative possibilities take off in unexpected directions.
This effect is further filtered through the landscape that the physical poem appears in, that of the female body. This landscape then becomes a hypertextual lens that enhances or distorts our vision.
I don’t usually comment so much on my own work because I feel that it ultimately detracts from it. What we think about it afterward is not necessarily what compelled us to create it in the first place. The haiku communicates itself. Anything else to be said about it can quickly staunch the meanings that are available to it.
It’s always useful to have a commentary on at least some haiku from an author, so I’m very grateful for that.
For readers new to haiku, through translations of Classical Japanese haiku writers, it’s always useful to show anyone interested in being a student, that the world of haiku is far larger than they imagined.
This is an incredible haiku. I really like to know more about the background to this, not to suggest it needs more, but just genuinely intrigued.
Alan, With Words
Thanks Alan.
The content of this haiku was actually an image that presented itself to me, offering as it does a compelling juxtaposition and a host of associations that create themselves from the framed combination.
The “stain” of the moon is of course the white light that brought the gloves out of the landscape, if you will. It also makes us think about the sharpened sticks, their purpose, differently. There is no reason to think of blood, but we think of blood, and then the narrative possibilities take off in unexpected directions.
This effect is further filtered through the landscape that the physical poem appears in, that of the female body. This landscape then becomes a hypertextual lens that enhances or distorts our vision.
I don’t usually comment so much on my own work because I feel that it ultimately detracts from it. What we think about it afterward is not necessarily what compelled us to create it in the first place. The haiku communicates itself. Anything else to be said about it can quickly staunch the meanings that are available to it.
So, enough said. I like it too.
I just would like to say thank you.
It’s always useful to have a commentary on at least some haiku from an author, so I’m very grateful for that.
For readers new to haiku, through translations of Classical Japanese haiku writers, it’s always useful to show anyone interested in being a student, that the world of haiku is far larger than they imagined.
Alan, With Words