May 13th 2016

When I wrote last night’s haiku, William Carlos Williams’s poem The Red Wheelbarrow was in the back of my mind—which could almost, itself, be a kind of haiku. Sometimes the haiku is simply a description of what’s there and nothing more, needing nothing more.

·

rainfall—
····the moon’s smudge in the black
········clouds

·

How long since I’d written about the moon?—a staple of Japanese haiku. Going out tonight the rain was light enough and the clouds thin enough to see its glow—but still a dark night.
·
189 May 13th 2016 | bottlecap

4 responses

  1. Wernher von Braun, Junge

    I look
    The moon stares back
    Light on the grass

    If only I
    Were better at Math
    To reach it

  2. Not to torture you, but is this any better?

    Wernher von Braun, Poet

    The moon stares back
    Distant
    Light on the grass

    If only I
    Were as good at math
    As Herr Oberth

    Wait, let me save the trouble. Awful. I’ve been deep into sociopolitical back and forth over the winter/spring. Lots of recovered memories of my politics major in college. But it never escaped me that poetry is the more “eternal” way to capture that energy:

    About Your Argument

    Contrive not, Dr. Rawls
    That I not contrive my
    Response—or better yet
    Fish and dump
    My haul for you to scale
    (If red herring have scales)
    Whatever, they will certainly stink
    In this warm weather

  3. damn, I must be determined to ruin your day. Sorry…

    Wernher von Braun, Poet

    The moon stares back
    Faint, distant
    Light on the grass

    If only I
    Were as good at math
    As Herr Oberth

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