We think in language. And so the quality of our thoughts and ideas can only be as good as the quality of our language.
– George Carlin
haiku 167
first June night
cicada chirps
after the rain
Pen to Paper: Haiku Silence
It’s been a while since I did a piece about haiku. Cletis was kind enough to ask for a handful of my poems to share at his blog, and that has me thinking about haiku again.
I intend to say very little, however, in keeping with the subject which Angelee Deodhar has so exactingly written about: how haiku conveys silence. The very idea of using words to describe silence seems paradoxical, and yet a well-written haiku can accomplish this deftly.
More, I need not say; on to Angelee’s essay.
Fiction: Neighborhood Picnic
Sergeant Luckenstiehl wandered around the park, smiling at the children at play, nodding to their parents who were grilling hamburgers and brats and hot dogs – and the occasional steak – and setting the picnic tables. He would soon have to politely decline offers of food. “Regulations,” he would say with genuine regret; these people really knew how to barbecue.
He looked up; there were still a couple of hours before the sun would set behind the 25-story housing complex. The park was in the building’s hollow quadrangle, and Luckenstiehl respected how nicely the residents kept it.
A child ran up to her mother. “Mom! We can’t find Prissy and Janet anywhere!”
Luckenstiehl casually made a quarter turn away from the conversation.
Quotable 55
It is necessary to write, if the days are not to slip emptily by. How else, indeed, to clap the net over the butterfly of the moment? For the moment passes, it is forgotten; the mood is gone; life itself is gone. That is where the writer scores over his fellows: he catches the changes of his mind on the hop.
– Vita Sackville-West
haiku 166
fierce winds
batter tender plants
early June
Pen to Paper: Fan Involvement
Perhaps nothing is as delightful to a writer than when his work is acknowledged by those who appreciate it. And it must be gratifying for the fan when a suggestion is incorporated into the writer’s work.
Fiction: Birth Order
“Kristen’s escaped.”
Sub-Proctor Anne’s mouth was tight, as though she were braced for me to gloat.
“Oh,” was my entire contribution to the conversation; it was the most Christian thing I could think of to say.
“I thought you would want to know,” Sub-Proctor Anne said, still guarded. I nodded politely at her, and she moved on to resume her work.
I wasn’t surprised. How many times had I warned everyone that Kristen would remain here only as long as she wanted to? The church’s Joliet Maximum Assistance Rescue Ark hadn’t held her during a previous pregnancy. She slipped past the dogs and the guard towers and the electrified fence as though they didn’t exist. So what chance, I asked, did the minimum assistance-level St. Reagan’s Birth Assurance Home have? An electronic gate and a simple nine-foot chain-link fence with a thin strand of razor wire on top meant nothing to someone like Kristen.
Quotable 54
The SF writer sees not just possibilities but wild possibilities. It’s not just “What if” – it’s “My God; what if” – in frenzy and hysteria. The Martians are always coming.
– Philip K. Dick
haiku 165
storm clouds pass –
universe returns
to night skies