- nonstop . . .
- leaning on his cane . . .
- southbound . . .
- old friends . . .
- tanka time . . .
- stars, planet, moons, et. al. . . .
- exquisite corpse update . . .
- exquisite corpse, anyone? . . .
- virtual friends . . .
- perhaps . . .
- cobwebs . . .
- After the Funeral . . .
- anthology fever . . .
- Throwback . . .
- new moon rising . . .
Category Archives: Basho
Poem in Your Pocket Day is coming–April 26–and I’m asking readers to send their favorite haiku (no more than 3 please) to me by Tuesday, April 24, for my Thursday post. The idea is to share a poem with others … Continue reading
cherry blossoms– we visit the graves of the unknown –Honorable Mention Vancouver Cherry Blossom Festival Haiku Invitational 2011 Two weeks ago I found myself in Oklahoma City as part of a gathering of travel writers from all over the country. Having been born … Continue reading
at Toad Suck I contemplate syllables and old ponds like a child puddle-jumping loudly through soft falling rain Ribbons, Spring 2011, #1 It’s raining here tonight (again!), just as it was the evening I drove myself through Toad Suck … Continue reading
Recently, Melissa Allen of Red Dragonfly posted a string of brilliant “afters” inspired by some of the master Bashō’s haiku. As a translator, I know how difficult (impossible?) it is to translate either French or Spanish poetry into English, but Japanese . . … Continue reading
The jars of octopus– brief dreams under the summer moon. –Bashō (trans., Robert Hass) Much of what I’ve done so far on this blog is not, strictly speaking, haiku. After all, where’s the obligatory season word–the kigo? For that … Continue reading
the whole family all with white hair and canes visiting graves –Bashō (trans., Jane Reichhold) As Halloween and El Día de los Muertos approach, once again I look to Bashō for inspiration on how to best remember those who’ve traveled down the ancestral road … Continue reading
Thank you to those who responded with their inspirations from Bashō’s autumn haiku. From Melissa Allen, author of the haiku blog Red Dragonfly, a favorite translation: The road here– No traveler comes along this autumn evening. —trans., Makoto Ueda And Melissa’s version: night … Continue reading
Kono michi ya! Yuku hito nashi ni, Aki no kure. –Bashō 17th-century pilgrimage poet, Matsuo Bashō, wrote that haunting haiku in the autumn of his travels. The poem’s shape shifts effortlessly in the hands of different translators as they try to walk down Bashō’s road. Here … Continue reading