On the other side of convention, what do we find: liberation, repulsion, excitement, a nervousness, tension, dizziness, relief?
The forms and tropes that we work with, what technologies were they born from?
How many lines of poetry can you fit on an Instagram post? How many lines of poetry can you fit on a Hive post?
What book could have held Dante’s Inferno had he written it in one continuous line from left to right, from beginning to end? How many hours of scrolling would it take to read that single line of text if one were reading it on a smartphone today?
In Japan, haiku is often written as a single line of poetry, a single line that holds three parts.
In the West, haiku is generally written in tercets, three short lines of poetry.
Until last week, I had never heard of single-line (mono-stich) haiku being written in the West.
Until last week, I had never once considered formatting these tiny poems in single lines.
But now that I know they can have a different look and still be accepted as poems, I’m so excited. I feel like a whole new world of play and possibility has been put in front of me.
Please turn your phone sideways to read them as a single line.
(1)
from tears we learn we have known moments without fear sorrow and pain
(2)
if i were a couch the things you’d find hidden under my cushions
(3)
the sound of water rushing splashing dripping pouring what sound do you hear
(4)
you meant something to me i tell the fallen apple browning on the ground
(5)
on a dark staircase a narrow beam of sunlight cuts through the shadows
(6)
in a tiny park a pair of swings waits and waits some more
(7)
how soon they are gone never to return say trees to their leaves
And one more time as tercets. Which format do you prefer?
(1)
from tears we learn
we have known moments without
fear sorrow and pain
(2)
if i were a couch
the things you’d find hidden
under my cushions
(3)
the sound of water
rushing splashing dripping pouring
what sound do you hear
(4)
you meant something to me
i tell the fallen apple
browning on the ground
(5)
on a dark staircase
a narrow beam of sunlight
cuts through the shadows
(6)
in a tiny park
a pair of swings waits
and waits some more
(7)
how soon they are gone
never to return
say trees to their leaves
As always, thanks for reading.