Sayonara 2012

For 2012 my New Year's resolution was to write one haiku every day.  I did miss a few days, but I did much better than the last time a few years ago when this was my resolution and I failed to write any from January 2 through 8.
So, I'm actually a little surprised that this experiment is coming to an end. I think I may continue it. And in honor of the end of the first year and the fact that I'm leaving my book (one of those "daily diary" books that has a little inch wide space for each day) in Kansas when I return to Kyoto, I'm copying out some of the haiku that I actually like.

These are pretty loose haiku usually, many don't have seasonal references and anyway the official Japanese lists of seasonal words are actually secret (!?!) and in Japanese. I also usually follow the modern English haiku format of 2 stressed syllables, 3 stressed, 2 stressed, instead of 5 7 5 syllables, which doesn't really work with the form of English.

Over this year as I was writing them, I mostly felt like they were all really bad. Sometimes I just wanted to fall asleep and resented having to think and compose right before bed. Now, looking back though, I like a much bigger proportion of them than I remembered being interesting. I mostly thought that I hadn't written anything memorable and sorrowfully thought that rather than coming up with a larger number of decent haiku because I was writing an exponentially larger number of them than in previous years, instead I was writing roughly the same number of good haiku, and an exponential number of bad because-I-had-to haiku.  So I'm pleasantly surprised looking back and reading them all now to think that a larger number of them than I remembered resonate with me.

The other thing that's surprising me is how absolutely recent, right now, present some of them make me feel. Reading many of them, I remember the moment, the day, I wrote them on and it feels like it was just yesterday (and I've only read up to the beginning of February as I type this intro!)  January wasn't long ago at all. Something about these little forced verses brings it back with a surprising immediacy.

So, I suppose with a fondness for a year that feels so now, I will share with you some of the now of 2012, just in time for it to become then.





17 Jan 2012
Pansies dry and dead
I realize, shocked, a year
is almost gone.

18 Jan
Millions of miracles
Revelation after revelation
littering the world.

New York City, 19 Jan
Persistent breeze
haunts this cavernous hall.
I catch a stranger's eye

20 Jan
Tiny irritations
to constantly forget. Living well
takes all day.

21 Jan
Finally snow.
Strangers' greetings ring across
muffled streets.

23 Jan
I build the day;
I fill in each minute
like a mason.

26 Jan
We're tired, we say,
but at least sometimes we say it
while sitting together.

27 Jan
A crowded house
so warm we open windows
and welcome the chill.

28 Jan
Contentment arrived.
Although it shouldn't have come
I try to welcome it.

29 Jan
Bursts of laughter
from the tearoom hidden inside
an old crooked house.

31 Jan
Surprises and routine
telling stories thrice
feels right.

2 Feb
Days that passed
imperceptibly stretch behind me
like evening shadows.

14 Feb
The factory floor
crowded with old magics
orderly as workers.

16 Feb
Tomorrow again
with as much promise
as today had.

19 Feb
A farewell party:
all laughter and wine and
no talk of departure.

22 Feb
I play the role
of savvy commuter, briskly walking,
looking ahead.

23 Feb
After sunset
things slipped off kilter;
a silver moon rose.

24 Feb
The day flew
where it might have dawdled
& swept me with it.

25 Feb
The sun shines
on falling snow, the wind,
blue-black sky

26 Feb
Upon waking,
I forget all yesterday's plans
and proceed anew.

27 Feb
The crescent moon
growing gently, silently,
still I notice.

28 Feb
Walking is falling
and catching yourself; necessary practice
for balancing impossibilities.

29 Feb
The snow fell
although we had forgotten
winter's glory.

3 March
To the sun's reproach
I prefer grey and mist
enfolding home.

4 March
Sound & silence
today like other days
light and dark.

7 March
Low and full
I followed the moon home
toward the sea.

9 March
Forgiving myself
starting each minute over.
Forgiving myself.

10 March
Upon speaking,
my clumsy tongue reminds me:
try silence.

13 March
In the darkened window
my own face, illumined,
sizing me up.

21 March
In sunshine
even the well-worn path
is suddenly unfamiliar

23 March
Considered regret
but had no time.
Pressed on.

24 March
Tides turn
The earth tips gently
My heart shifts

26 March
The moon keeps pace
Flickering in the dark with me
rushing home.

4 April
I thought: routine leads
to boring poems, then thought:
look harder.

9 April
The wind sweeps down
against me, then relenting
buoys me up.

12 April
New leaves
emerging clasped in pairs
hands in prayer.

17 April
Accompanied the sun
to the water's edge and lingered
as it carried on alone.

18 April
Pushed endlessly
toward strangers in the train
by sagging seats.

24 April
(a tanka!)
An old friend
reminds me it's not bad
time's passage.
The moon waxing or waning,
he doesn't know.

29 April
What's the difference
between the good day and bad?
A flicker? A breeze?

5 May
Moon in mist
slid suddenly free
blazing white.

6 May
I chose contentment.
By the sunset, by the imperious
blue-white moon.

14 May
The sound of rain
mingled with kettle's hiss
a cool breath.

30 May
Rain falls
warm enough to be welcome
we stay outside.

2 June
Rain steadies me
holds me gently to earth
pushes my roots

3 June
Seeking a friend
to sit under the sky
until the rain

21 June
At ocean's edge
a steady wind promises
other lands.

1 July (Leeds U.K.)
A day like wind;
we're blown together or
apart like leaves.

8 July (Winchester, U.K.)
Damp scents
coaxing green from stone
books from cathedrals

24 July
I can say:
Today I worked hard.
I'll rest.

27 July
Each day now
finally recognizable as another
lucky day.

30 July
A white feather
lands gently on the water.
It remembers.

6 August
Walking in sunshine
with small tasks and
great concerns

19 August
More goodbyes
in sunshine, in cloud, in
Boston, in Providence.

20 August
Light flickers
in the corner of my eye
always escaping.

24 August
Minutes for miles
time unfurls the way
Finally. Suddenly.

27 August
One night
is too short. In one room,
distance remains.

29 August. Kyoto.
Day became
another day. Outrun once,
night falls hard.

30 August
A platoon adrift.
We are each others'
lifelines.

4 Sept
Each day
is a year; cycling slowly
into itself.

6 Sept
What a week
a difference makes; night
falls like a gift.

7 Sept
The heat lingers
like a thoughtless guest
into the night.

9 Sept
Petals on glass
Cultivating a taste for time
and graceful ignorance

12 Sept (tanka!)
Settled drowsily
the heat has become
part of me
or else a breath of coolness
has entered imperceptibly.

14 Sept
Watching maple leaves
hoping for a breeze to come
the sound of thunder.

23 Sept
With quiet coolness
rain covers noon
gentle as snow.

24 Sept
We rush about
while a yellow-breasted bird
delights in the garden.

26 Sept
three days' moon--
who has time to watch for it?
--rising unremarked.

1 Oct
The moon appears
a day late, haloed in cloud
perfectly imperfect.

5 Oct
Cool air is shy.
Only when you're still
will it caress your neck.

6 Oct
Mountain to plain
only one branch knows
autumn is here.

15 Oct
Note to self:
seize more sweetness
let the rest go.

16 Oct
Mist on the path
in the morning air like the
last of a dream.

18 Oct
One red leaf
wrapped like a jewel in
green and mist.

20 Oct
Velvet bamboo
holding up spiders' webs
glazed with dew.

22 Oct
One tree now
succumbed to crimson
let me follow.

23 Oct
I lost a friend
halfway around the world.
The sound of rain.

25 Oct
In bright sun
we can't help but
feel invincible

28 Oct
Rain-glazed,
my path lies empty
waiting patiently.

29 Oct
Shy moon
hiding her glowing face
behind the city.

4 Nov
A bright ball
thrown high, the sun
falls fast.

5 Nov
Bowing under rain
till brocade sunset clouds
raise our eyes again

6 Nov
Mist-decorated
Mountains, admired by
unremarked hills.

8 Nov
Every second
spilled from my hands
rolling away.

10 Nov
At the roof's edge
a thousand umbrellas
blooming in waves.

12 Nov
(tanka!)
Leaves fall
grateful and exhausted
so we too
at long last
collapse into each other.

17 Nov
Rain glaze--
like a sleeping spell--
silences the street.

26 Nov
Inside the wall,
red maple. Outside, yellow
carpet of gingko.

7 Dec
Skeletal leaf,
drained of its color, falling
from my sheets.

12 Dec
Sun unfiltered
finds us easily now
leaves have fallen.

13 Dec
Frosted thatch
on Kabuto-mon. That old head
serene white.

21 Dec
If time ended,
it was just a breath,
and we continued.

29 Dec
Against grey
a ragged line of geese
twisting, unbroken.

30 Dec
Golden fields
sere and calm and silent
Waiting for snow.