This week I, along with other members of the haiku community, learned of the sudden, unexpected death of Kat Creighton. Kat was a photographer as well as a poet, combining words and images to create the poetic form known as haiga; her work, which often focused on the landscape of the Jersey Shore that she knew and loved, was featured in online journals like haiga online and A Hundred Gourds during the past several years. (Click on links for examples; or visit Kirsten Cliff’s blog Swimming in Lines of Haiku to read the beautiful, collaborative tanka sequence the two of them wrote called “Uncharted Depths.”)
Like others who knew Kat only through the virtual world, I’ve found some of her poems particularly haunting in light of her recent passing. (The day before her death, for example, she posted a haiku about the “three quarter moon” and the impossibility of distinguishing “what is/from what isn’t”.) And, like others who knew Kat far better, I too will miss her voice, her vision, and her presence in this world.
so many empty chairs
touched by moonlight