January 2nd 2016

····November’s weather arrives in January. Yesterday morning there was a brief glimpse of sun, and then nothing until evening.
·
I took some photos but I’m dissatisfied.
·
There were only briefly the tall shadows of trees and the low-lying yellow light of the sun. I’m itching to write a full blown poem.  I should read some Wallace Stevens now that I’ve been studying haiku.
·
I’ll continue with my Mindful Guide to Haiku, begun yesterday, January 1st. Maybe just a handful of paragraphs a day.
·
The Haiku Road: A Mindful Guide to Poetry Cont.
·
What is clutter?
·
I like to think of our minds as being like a house, and that may be because I’m a builder.
·
Sometimes we build our minds the way we build our houses and clutter them the same way. As I’ve gotten older, the place that awaits me in the mind’s eye has become clearer—a shedroof tiny house with a single room, white-washed wood framed walls and a clear maple floor. There will be a simple desk, a chair and a wild-flower meadow just beyond the desk and windowsill. When I want to let in the breeze, I’ll push up the hinged window to smell the unfolding leaves, distant rains and the wind over water.
·
I’ll have a handful of favorite books on the desk—Basho, Shakespeare, Keats, Frost, Steinbeck.
·
When I close my eyes, I visit there. I can visit any time.
·
As to the house I actually live in, mine is a minimalist’s disaster. I have little airplanes hanging from the ceiling. I collect far more books than I need. My shoes and boots are a mess. I have toys from my childhood on my bookshelves because sentimental attachment is a cocklebur. Books are scattered around my bed and I have more music than shelves to put it on. All while my dog reminds me the world is really fur and dust.
·
So if, like me, your house is a mess, console yourself knowing that it’s only the house of our minds which we may need uncluttering. If you’re willing, create a place to refresh yourself. Then, perhaps, when you go journeying back out into the world, there may be room for haiku to appear.

·

melting
····at my sleeves—the snowflakes you left
············behind

The unexpected kindness, the unexpected embrace, and already the melancholy of our parting.

·

57: January 1st 2016 | bottlecap

4 responses

  1. “I have toys from my childhood on my bookshelves because sentimental attachment is a cocklebur. Books are scattered around my bed and I have more music than shelves to put it on. All while my dog reminds me the world is really fur and dust.”

    Does THAT ever speak to me . . .

  2. My “mind room” is identical to my actual room. It looks like a tornado was looking for his stolen drugs.

    Perhaps related, perhaps not: You’ve mentioned committing to a mindset when writing haiku. That’s weirdly intimidating to me.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: