A new year begins. If I think on what I want to accomplish, this will be the year I write the poems I’ve wanted to write, the novel, the collection of fables—and each year I spend most my time carpentering because I don’t see any other means of income.
Writing poetry has never come easily.
But tonight I’ll write my 55th haiku. I know why. When I saw what my very first haiku meant to someone twenty five years after I’d written it I finally felt, in a profoundly confirming way, that I was being read and understood.
The Haiku Road: A Mindful Guide to Poetry
There is no journey that isn’t spiritual.
The poet who sets his or herself to writing haiku commits not just to a kind of poetry, but to a way of mindfulness, awareness, and perception.
For the space of time it takes to create a haiku, the imagination must be serene. The poet’s house, just for a little while, is cleared of its clutter.
····loneliness—the wind beginning
············where it ends
56: January 1st 2016 | bottlecap