Symphony: A Solo Shisan

The last weeks of spring,
The faded rhododendron
And tall, uncut grass

In the vacant lot beside
The new condominiums

He inspects the plans,
Completed just yesterday,
For a new strip-mall

***
Twenty thousand years from now
The river will change its course

A few Hawthorne trees
Blooming in the afternoon
Of the July heat

"I can't explain it," she says.
"I just like being with him."

***
In the large lobby
Of the new office building
Coming and going

Once a year five friends gather
To hike the low-lying hills

Under the jade light
Of the full, or nearly full,
Slowly drifting moon

***
He washes all the dishes
While gazing out the window

To the neighbor's house
At the thinly falling snow
As some music plays

From the just purchased cd
A sun-dappled symphony

Another Dawn: A Solo Shisan

Another Dawn

The last weeks of spring
The hawthorns are still in bloom
An overcast day

Preparing for their finals
And college applications

At the welfare line
An unemployed engineer
Wonders what is next

***
One day the moon will be gone
But this summer night it's full

In a dream refuge
She finds relief from the heat
And from her lover

If everything is changing
Then there is nothing to fear

***
He alters data
After the Great Leader's speech;
The message was clear

The implacable seasons,
A flow of indifference

As days grow shorter
She removes a few sweaters
From the bottom drawer

***
"We're a little short this month.
Maybe we'll get it next year."

The dishes are chipped,
But that's O.K., they will serve;
They have their own beauty

Another dawn, one more day,
Another winter deepens

Syllabics: 3

Counting is a primal human act. Meditators count breaths, customers count change, musicians count beats and measures, when a rocket is launched we count down, in a gym class we count up for team assignment, we count the days of a month and the years of our lives, astronomers count the stars in the sky.

Somewhere in the mists of time people found that they could count repeating units of sound that, when grouped together, make words. And thus formal poetry was born.

These sound units are what we today call syllables. Just as people articulate the flow of time by counting days, poets articulate the flow of language by counting syllables.

Along with this discovery came the understanding that some words have the same number of syllables and so they share a number in common; even if the two words have different meanings, they share the same number of syllables. This also applies to groups of words; two groups of words may have the same number of syllables and so have an underlying unity, a unity of number which can transcend a difference in meaning.

Counting syllables grounds the poet in an activity that all human beings share. Because it is an activity that all people share, counting is a kind of humbling activity, keeping the poet connected to the ordinary. When the poet counts syllables, that counting is the same counting that ordinary people do when they count whatever they are counting (change, plates, votes, etc.).

By counting syllables poets replicate a pervasive human mode of comprehending existence. I think this is a central reason why formal poetry, based on counting syllables, is so attractive to people. The regularity of counted lines instantiates, and then displays, a mechanism that is central to our humanity, something that all of us do every day numerous times. Lines that are based on counting, are, therefore, immediately accessible, resonating with this pervasive, and very human, way of interacting with existence.

The Shisan: An Appreciation

Renga has a long history, going back to the 13th century. For a long part of its history the dominant form consisted of 100 verses; known as the Hyakuin. The great practitioner of Renga, Sogi, 1421-1502, wrote in this form.

Renga has had periods of popularity followed by periods of neglect. It is usually revived by some significant poet who is attracted to the form and shows people, once again, its potential. Basho, 1644-1694, revived Renga for his time and used a 36 verse form known as the Kasen.

The tendency in the history of Renga has been towards shorter and shorter forms, and this has continued into the modern era. Today there are a number of 12 Verse forms that are used widely by Renga poets, both in Japan and outside of Japan. The two I am most familiar with are the Junicho and the Shisan. Of the two I want to talk about the Shisan here.

The Shisan was first proposed by Kaoru Kubota who, I am told, was a noted Renga poet. I have not been able to find out anything about him beyond this stated fact; anyone with further information please feel free to post details. (When I google his name, I discover that it is fairly common in Japan; there is a noted Doctor and Engineer both of whom have the same name, but almost nothing about our poet.) It is not even clear to me exactly when Kubota proposed the Shisan; but I suspect it was sometime in the 70’s or 80’s. In any case, let me take this opportunity to express my thanks to Mr. Kubota for taking the time to propose this form. It has become my personal favorite.

Here are a few reasons for why I find the Shisan such an attractive Renga form:

1. It is compact. After acquiring a feel for the form, and some skill in it, I find it doesn’t take too long to write a Shisan. A couple of hours is usually enough time. In contrast, the Kasen, and certainly the Hyakuin, take an extended time commitment.

2. Kubota managed to keep the essentials of the Renga, its distinguishing features, even though the form is only 1/3 as long as the Kasen, and just a little over 1/10th the size of a Hyakuin. That is impressive. When I first heard about it I wasn’t sure how it could be done, but Kubota showed that it is possible. By retaining the “blossoming tree”, “love”, and “moon” verses, and also the seasonal flow, Kubota created a beautiful miniature Renga that nevertheless incorporates all the perspectives of the larger, more traditional, forms.

3. Kubota did change one characteristic of Renga. He altered the traditional seasonal scheme. In the traditional Renga forms, such as the 36 Verse Kasen, and the 100 Verse Hyakuin, the order of the seasons is not the natural order. The order of the seasons is dictated according to affective, felt, or feeling based associations. Thus traditional Renga seasonal schemes are poetically meaningful, but do not follow the natural seasonal order. Kubota was the first, as far as I know, to introduce a Renga scheme that follows the natural order. I find this attractive and efficacious. First, because so much of Renga is nature based to begin with. The opening verse, for example, should be a scene from nature and often significant, foreground, verses are also about nature. It has often struck me as odd that such a strongly nature based tradition wouldn’t follow the natural seasonal flow; although I admit the traditional scheme works. But Kubota’s change feels more unified to me; just as individual verses, like the seasonal verses, and the opening verse, are embedded in nature, so the entire Renga, in a Shisan, becomes embedded in nature as it actually appears. Second, I think it makes the Shisan easier to learn; one simply follows the natural flow of the seasons instead of having to learn a series of seasonal templates. Here I think Kubota has helped to integrate Renga more closely to the natural world.

4. As I previously posted, I have become fond of writing solo Renga and the Shisan is the solo form I write most frequently. In terms of the level of complexity, I suspect that the Shisan is roughly equivalent to a Sonnet, particularly if one pays attention to the Sonnet rhyme scheme, stanza divisions, and closely follows standard iambic requirements. That’s a lot to juggle. Similarly, the Shisan requires that the poet pay attention to syllabics, topics, seasonal flow, link and shift. The Shisan, by being short and focused, allows for solo expression in the same way that the Sonnet, in its brevity, allows for solo expression. They are both about the same length; the Shisan is 46 syllables longer than the Sonnet or about four Sonnet lines longer. In terms of length the Shisan is like adding another quatrain. This is a good length for a medium sized poem; long enough for individual expression, yet tight enough so that the poet can’t meander.

5. It is an excellent form for introducing Renga to newcomers. Because of its brevity the newcomer won’t feel overwhelmed by the complexity or the amount of time needed to write it. Because of its natural seasonal flow it will seem more intuitively accessible than other Renga forms. Because it is a good vehicle for solo poetry, the newcomer can start the practice of Renga without having to wait for a group of like- minded people.

So three deep bows to Kaoru Kubota. May the Shisan flourish far and wide.

Crochet: A Solo Shisan

Evening clarity
After the heat of the day
The cool summer moon

Suspended at the zenith,
Above the small city park

She watches a cloud
As its face shifts and changes
Just like her feelings

***
This year the leaves are falling
Gradually, one by one

"Now we have to part,"
He speaks slowly, with regret.
"It didn't work out."

The dry creek waits for the rain
A goddess waits for a prayer

***
Saturn shifting signs,
Equinoxes, Solstices,
Workdays and weekends

At the university
The Board makes a long-term plan

As the winter wind
Whistles against the windows
And bends the branches

***
My Aunt crochets complex squares,
She has plans for a new shawl

Inspired by
the colors of plum blossoms
And the morning air

The couple with no children
Decides to adopt a child

Living the Japanese Arts & Ways: A Review

Living the Japanese Arts & Ways:
45 Paths to Meditation & Beauty
by H. E. Davey

A Review

Those of us who take an interest in Japanese arts are often attracted by the philosophical view surrounding these arts. By arts I mean traditions such as Tea Ceremony, Kado or Flower Arranging (also known as Ikebana), Kyudo (or ceremonial archery), and, of course, such poetic forms as Renga. It is not easy for non-Japanese to grasp the esthetic categories through which Japanese arts and ways are formulated. There are some differences between western and Japanese approaches and these manifest in both big and small ways. For example, in the west flower arranging is considered a merely decorative pastime, while in Japan flower arranging evolved into a high art. Why is this so?

The best presentation of the basic ideas underlying Japanese approaches to the arts I have found is H. E. Davey’s “Living the Japanese Arts & Ways.” Davey is the Director of the Sennin Foundation for Japanese Cultural Arts in the East Bay. He is an accomplished practitioner of several of these arts, including Japanese Yoga and Calligraphy. He has been certified by traditional Japanese schools.

The book is divided into 45 sections, grouped into four chapters: 1. The Essence of the Japanese Arts & Ways, 2. Spiritual Aesthetics in the Japanese Arts & Ways, 3. Mind & Body Unification in the Japanese Arts and Ways, and 4. Traditions & Personal Relationships in the Japanese Arts & Ways. Each of the 45 Sections is headed by a Japanese term, such as “Yugen”, “Mono no Aware”, "Wabi", and "Furyu". These terms are then explained and illustrated. As the book unfolds, and as new terms are introduced, the new terms are related to the previously introduced terms so that a fabric of relationships among the terms is gradually woven.

In addition the book begins with a broad overview of East Asian philosophy that is at once insightful and accessible to the ordinary reader. I was particularly impressed by the author’s emphasis on Confucian influences on the arts and ways; a point which, I think, many western writers on this topic have missed. There is also a section on the influence of Shinto, which is equally insightful. Davey really has a broad grasp of Japanese cultural foundations.

Davey sees the arts and ways of Japan as sharing an underlying view which he states as seeing the universal in the particular. That is one reason why Flower Arranging could become a high art in Japan, because the idea is that, when framed correctly, one can apprehend that which is universal in the particularity of the impermanent flower arrangement, and thus a flower arrangement can function as a gate to this universality.

Davey does not talk directly about Renga in his book, but his book touches on many of the esthetic ideals that are foundational for Renga and which all Renga poets shared. The idea of a flow of images is rooted in this understanding that the universal resides in the particular and for this reason Renga, like Flower Arranging, became a Way, or Path, in Japan during its heyday. I think Renga can still function in that way.

I have read this book several times and found each reading to be helpful. I highly recommend Davey’s book for all those interested in the Japanese approach to the arts and particularly for those interested in Renga.

Note: “Living the Japanese Arts and Ways” was originally published as a separate book, but I believe it has gone out of print. It has, however, been reprinted in its entirety in “The Japanese Way of the Artist”, by the same author which contains, in addition to the “Arts and Ways”, his book on calligraphy, “Brush Meditation”, and his book on flower arranging, “The Japanese Way of the Flowers”.

Magma: A Solo Shisan

It’s hot this morning,
Already my neighbors are
Watering their lawns

A few leaves flutter briefly
And then the stillness returns

She meant to write home,
But the day got too busy;
She’ll do it later

***
Thick clouds cover the full moon
The sound of dry leaves falling

On the sidewalk
In front of the office building
Built five years ago

Young lovers meet and embrace;
Close friends had introduced them

***
The days have shortened
Years have vanished like incense
Dispersed by cold winds

All nations are insecure
And all politicians lie

Deep within the earth
Slow waves of molten magma
Head towards the surface

***
Plum blossoms bloom in the snow
Soon warmer days will arrive

“It’s been difficult,
But I have found a new job,”
He says to his Dad

Donations for the food bank
Have been excellent this year

Syllabics: 2

Poetic theory discusses different approaches to poetry. Two of the most common are accentual and syllabic. (There is also a third approach, durational, which I find now and then mentioned; but for the sake of simplicity I’m going to stick to just accentual and syllabic approaches.) The idea here is that some languages organize poetry according to accent, or emphasis, and some languages organize poetry according to syllables.

English is considered to be an accentual and syllabic poetic culture. The most common example of this is “iambic pentameter”. What is counted in pentameter are five accents, or emphases, in a line. Most such lines will contain 10 syllables because an iamb consists of both an accented and unaccented syllables. But there are exceptions; such as the feminine ending where there will be five accents but an extra syllable which is unaccented. There are also other mitigating usages which can alter the syllable count from the standard 10. But the five accents is primary; hence an accentual approach dominates English language verse.

Japanese and French are examples of syllabic approaches to poetry. In Japanese and French only the syllables are counted in defining a poetic form. This is because both of these languages are far less accented, or alternately stressed, than English (or other Germanic languages).

I have a somewhat different approach. In my view all poetry is primarily syllabic. And poetry is the shaping and crafting of words through the medium of syllables. In the way that baking is primarily the craft of shaping flour, poetry is the craft of shaping syllables. In the way that pottery is the craft of shaping clay into specific forms, poetry is the craft of shaping syllables into specific forms.

In other words, I view syllables as the basic medium of poetry, just as flour is the basic medium of baking, just as clay is the basic medium of pottery, just as wood is the basic medium of carpentry. Various tools are used to shape syllables and the use of these tools is what I mean by syllabics. Among these tools are: counting, accent, duration, rhyme, rhythm, meter, grammatical phrasing, etc. Different languages tend to emphasize some of these tools and to ignore others. English tends to use accent, counting, and rhyme. Japanese poetry tends to use counting and grammatical phrasing (I am referring to the use of cutting words). Chinese tends to use counting and rhyme. But all these different approaches have syllables as their basic medium.

Emeralds: A Solo Shisan

Emeralds

April afternoon;
A surprisingly cool wind
For this time of year

The garden's are holding back
Waiting for the earth to warm

He thinks about it.
He decides not to tell her.
What good would it do?

***

Only a short time ago
The whole area was farms

Rows of lemon trees
Blooming in the gentle wind,
Warm even at night

Her replacement doesn't show
So she takes a second shift

***

At the hospital
In the emergency room
They wait patiently

No one notices the moon
Full in the crisp and clear sky

He just says, "Hello."
She spent a lot of money
At the hairdresser

***

Crowds gather at the new store
For its Grand Opening Sale

Even though it's cold
And even though it's snowing
It's still beautiful

A garland of emeralds
With some semi-precious stones

A Haikai Community

Good Friends:

I work at a small book and tea store called Many Rivers Books and Tea. The store hosts weekly events and readings. Last Friday the store hosted two poets, Pat Nolan and Keith Abbot, who have been practicing Haikai Renga, or Renku (they used both terms) for about 30 years. Since I have previously posted on the benefits of solo renga, I thought I'd post here my impressions of this more traditional group approach.

The group consists of four or five poets (I was a little confused about the number; one person might have been referred to by more than one nickname). The group has been doing the 36 verse Kasen style of Renga, in the spirit of Basho, for about a decade. I was excited that an actual community devoted to Renga had evolved and lasted. I found it inspiring.

They refer to themselves as the "Miner School of Haikai", after the scholar Earl Miner and his scholarly presentation of Haikai, "Japanese Linked Verse", which is their source and authority for most matters. That is to say, when there is some kind of disagreement about form, they defer to Miner's work. I think this might be a reason the group has lasted so long; because they have an authority to defer to who is not an actual member of their group. I suspect this reduces possible interpersonal disagreements. Miner died a few years ago, but before he died they were in written communication with him and would ask him questions about points that arose as their practice of Haikai proceeded. They laughingly said that Miner at times admired, and at times deplored, their efforts.

They also spoke of how the different personalities of the members are reflected in their links. One member writes in a very "plain" style; meaning, I think, that this member will write about very ordinary things. Another member loves to throw in something very eccentric and enjoys pushing the edge. It seemed to me that the four of them have a very good balance from the way it was described so that the flow of the Haikai is consistently refreshed by these different personalities.

One aspect they mentioned was that over time they have become more true to traditional syllabics; that is to say the verses are more and more alternating 14 and 17 syllable stanzas. This wasn't a conscious decision on their part, it naturally evolved over the years. They mentioned how it has become easier to write in this manner.

In some ways the group is experimental. For example, they accept any kind of flower, not just flowering trees, for the traditional placement of the flower verse. I'm aware of others who have adopted this interpretation in the west. On the other hand, they stick closely to the moon placements and they include the love stanzas as well. Under Miner's influence, they also repeat each stanza and in the repetition they allow themselves to shift a pronoun in order to facilitate a link to the following verse. This is something Miner did in his translations of Haikai, but it hasn't been followed by subsequent scholars. Personally, I prefer the steady flow of not repeating the verses. The group is aware that in Japan the verses are not repeated, but they find that this approach works for them and it is one of the reasons they refer to themselves as the Miner School of Haikai.

It was a pleasure to hear about, and to meet some of those involved in, an ongoing group devoted to Haikai. My hope is that such groups can blossom elsewhere in the future.

Best wishes,

Jim

Thoreau Upon the Rivers: A Solo Junicho

Cool summer morning
The blue sky promises heat
Later in the day

Gemini insects call forth
A contrapuntal texture

The not quite full moon
A space station by its side
Glides through the heavens

Seen through the sick-room window
After drawing the curtains

She brings some flowers
And a package of incense
To her mother's bed

The hours move so slowly
And the silence feels so thick

Dinner with a friend,
"I didn't see it coming."
Some tears in his eyes

Digging through a Pomo mound,
Shards and remnants and some bones

Once again telling
The immigration story
Of their grandparents

A cascade of autumn leaves
And the high tide shifts the sand

Geese traverse the sky,
A journey of many miles,
And the setting sun

Thoreau upon the rivers
With a brother who's never named

Syllabics: 1

Good Friends:

I am starting a series of posts today under a common title which I’m calling “Syllabics”. The overall purpose of this series of posts will be to present the case for a syllabic approach to Japanese Poetry. One of the purposes of this series is to present the idea that English language poets can approach Japanese forms of poetry by mimicking the syllabic structure of Japanese forms of poetry. Basically, I am presenting the idea that just as the Sonnet was transmitted from Italy to France and England by mimicking the original syllable count as it appeared in Italian and then mimicking that syllable count in French and English, so also such forms as Haiku, Tanka, and Renga can be transmitted to the English language world through mimicking Japanese syllable count in English.

This is a minority view. Most poets currently writing in Japanese forms in English do not mimic the syllabic structure of Japanese poetry when they write in English or other non-Japanese languages. There are a number of reasons for this; the issue is complex. Accordingly, this series will have two major emphases. The first, and more important, is to present the positive case for such a syllabic approach. The second, is to present an alternative view regarding the idea that such a syllabic approach is misguided.

It has been my experience that discussions along these lines can become contentious. So I want to say here that my purpose is not to argue that people should only write poetry in a particular way, or that there is only one way to write Haiku, or Tanka; I am not trying to lay down universal rules for correct Renga. Rather I view this series as apologetic in the sense of a defense for syllabic mimicking as a valid approach to Japanese Poetry in English.

I originally set out to write something systematic. The influence of my philosophy background pushed me in that direction. As I attempted to do so, however, I found the approach yielded a heavy, complex, pedantic, overly repetitive, and overly argumentative document that even I found boring. So I decided to change my mode of presentation. Since this series deals primarily with Japanese Poetry, I decided to adopt a style sometimes known as the “flow of the brush”, or “pen”. This is to say letting the pen lead and not sticking to an outline or sequential presentation. This style is famously known in Kenko’s “Essays in Idleness”, but it has deep roots in East Asian culture. For example, the “Analects” of Confucius can be viewed as written in this mode. I refer to this mode of writing as the “collage” approach. The overall impact emerges from viewing the whole work and the interaction of the sections.

I hope that others will find this series on syllabics of some use. Comments are, as always, greatly appreciated.

Sincerely,

Jim

Ancient Hymn: A Solo Shisan

Ancient Hymn

Cool mornings give way
To weekend hikes with old friends
In warm afternoons

With a few hawthorns blooming
At the entrance to the park

Two lovers hold hands
And dream of hours together
And a long future

***
The fountain at the courthouse
Is turned off to save water

The heat of the day
Continues into evening
Though the sky is clear

A comet, for a few nights,
Appears on the horizon

***
While at the zenith,
In the cool October air,
The half-full waxing moon

Lighting the deserted walk
That meanders through the park

Several flashlights
As policemen scan the grounds
For possible clues

***
The snowfall accumulates
(A world without rough edges)

On the Christmas trees,
For Sale at the Used Car Lot,
Many-colored lights

Dad sings to his son a hymn,
A song that's ancient and new

Solo Renga

Good Friends:

I first started using some of the 12-verse renga forms to experiment with certain approaches to renga that I wanted to explore. Initially I wanted to explore the relationship between time and season and what happens when time and season are treated as separate categories. I found the 12 Verse forms congenial to these kinds of experiments because they were short enough to enact the experiment in a reasonable period of time, yet long enough to contain many of the basic elements of the longer traditional forms of renga, such as the 36 and 100 verse forms.

Because I was experimenting with non-traditional categories I deliberately did not want to have partners until I had the opportunity to observe what happened. Does the theory that time and season can be treated as separate categories work out in actual usage? That was my key question and the 12-verse forms proved helpful in creating conditions for being able to answer that question.

After a while I discovered that I had written a large number of these solo 12-verse renga. At some point I began to notice how much I enjoyed writing solo 12-verse renga and I began to write them whether or not I had a specific experiment in mind. I began writing these solo renga out of simple enjoyment. I had the same feeling I get when writing other solo forms, such as tanka and sonnet. I thought I would share some of the thoughts which have arisen on writing solo renga. These thoughts are in no particular order.

1. Renga is traditionally a group effort. But there have always been examples of solo renga, and some of them are really excellent. A few have been translated. So solo renga are known, but seem to be thought of as a kind of wayward stepchild of the form. I can understand that, and in some ways I feel the same way. Nevertheless, the solo renga is sanctioned by tradition and is not a radical departure for the form.

2. I suspect that more people would write renga if the solo form were more sanctioned, more honored. It is difficult to find a group of like-minded people to compose a participation renga. First, very few people in the west know about renga. Second, among those who do know about it, few are interested in actually writing renga. Third, even if someone knows about renga and is interested enough to actually write it, finding the time and place to get together to actually do so is often problematic.

All of these difficulties are diminished in the practice of solo renga. Just as someone interested in the sonnet can simply begin to practice the sonnet (all they need is a desk and some paper), just as someone interested in tanka can simply begin to practice tanka, so also someone interested in renga can simply begin to practice renga by writing solo renga.

3. By writing solo renga the dedicated practitioner has an opportunity to perfect the craft of renga with the steadiness and dedication that other crafts, done solo, have to offer. Having written a renga, one can observe link and shift, seasonal flow, placement of required topics, etc. One can refine one’s approach. It is similar to practicing a musical instrument at home. One listens carefully to one’s own musicianship, noting areas that need to be improved. Or it is similar to potters perfecting their craft on the pottery wheel.

4. One of the differences between the solo renga and the participation renga, with multiple authors, is that the solo renga tends to have a more uniform voice. The traditional solution to this has been to suggest that if one is writing a solo renga one wear several “masks” while writing. For example, you might wear the mask of a novice renga poet, or the mask of an elderly woman, or the mask of an executive who doesn’t have much time. By wearing these masks one facilitates the shift in voice that a participation renga naturally offers.

On the other hand, I have come to think that the more uniform voice possible in a solo renga can also be considered a virtue of the solo renga, particularly when done in English, or another non-Japanese language. I think that we have had a tendency to exaggerate the degree to which different voices in a participation renga actually differ. I say this because in traditional renga all participants are committed to a fixed syllabic structure, a structure that no one deviates from. In the west, however, it is very common for line length to shift radically from person to person. In some renga I have observed there is almost no unity of line length as one proceeds through the renga. For this reason, in many English language participation renga the difference in tone of voice as one moves from one participant to another can be greater than what one would find in a Japanese participation renga where the participants are committed to a uniform syllabic flow.

In other words, I am suggesting that a solo renga, done in English, in some ways, more closely resembles the overall flow of a traditional Japanese renga because a solo renga in English is more likely to have a standard approach to syllabics, to line length or lineation.

5. Finally, writing solo renga is rewarding. It is rewarding in the same way that writing in any other poetic form is rewarding. Just as crafting a sonnet has its reward, so also crafting a renga on one’s own has its rewards. The beauty of a well-done renga is there whether done by a group or by an individual.

Best wishes,

Jim