Haiku Techniques by Jane Reichhold, part 3 (of 3)
The Technique of Close Links: Basically this could come as a sub-topic to association, but it also works with contrast and comparison so I like to give it its own rubric. In making any connection between the two parts of a haiku, the leap can be a small and even a well-known one. Usually beginners are easily impressed with close links and experiment first with this form. They understand it and feel comfortable using the technique.
winter cold
finding on a beach
an open knife
The Technique of Leap Links: As a writer's skills increase, and as he or she reads many haiku (either their own or others) such “easy” leaps quickly fade in excitement. Being human animals we seem destined to seek the next level of difficulty and find that thrilling. So the writer begins to attempt leaps that a reader new to haiku may not follow and therefore find the ku to espouse nonsense. The nice thing about this aspect, is when one begins to read haiku by a certain author, one will find some of the haiku simply leave the reader cold and untouched. Years later, returning to the same book, with many haiku experiences, the reader will discover the truth or poetry or beauty in a haiku that seemed dead and closed earlier. I think the important point in creating with this technique is that the writer is always totally aware of his or her “truth”. Usually, if you think about the ku long enough and deeply enough, one can find the author's truth. I know I have quickly read a link in a renga and thought the author was kidding me or had gone off the deep end. Sometimes it is days later when I will go, “Ah-ha!” and in that instant understand what the ku was truly about.
wildflowers
the early spring sunshine
in my hand
The Technique of Mixing It Up: What I mean here is mixing up the action so the reader does not know if nature is doing the acting or if a human is doing it. As you know, haiku are praised for getting rid of authors, authors' opinions and authors' action. One way to sneak this in is to use the gerund (-ing added to a verb) combined with an action that seems sensible for both a human and for the nature/nature to do. Very often when I use a gerund in a haiku I am basically saying, “I am. . .” making an action, but leaving unsaid the “I am”. The Japanese language has allowed poets to use this tactic so long and so well that even their translators are barely aware of what is being done. It is a good way to combine humanity's action with nature in a way that minimises the impact of the author but allows an interaction between humanity and nature.
end of winter
covering the first row
of lettuce seeds
The Technique of Sabi: I almost hesitate to bring up this idea as a technique because the word sabi has got so many meanings over the innumerable years it has been in Japan, and now that it comes to the English language it is undergoing even new mutations. As fascinated as Westerners have become with the word, the Japanese have maintained for centuries that no one can really, truly comprehend what sabi really is and thus, they change its definition according to their moods. Bill Higginson, in The Haiku Handbook, calls sabi - “(patina/loneliness) Beauty with a sense of loneliness in time, akin to, but deeper than, nostalgia”. Suzuki maintains that sabi is “loneliness” or “solitude” but that it can also be “miserable”, “insignificant”, and “pitiable”, “asymmetry” and “poverty”. Donald Keene sees sabi as “an understatement hinting at great depths”. So you see, we are rather on our own with this! I have translated this as: sabi - a quality of images used in poetry that expresses something aged or weathered with a hint of sadness because of being abandoned. A split-rail fence sagging with overgrown vines has sabi; a freshly painted picket fence does not.
As a technique, one puts together images and verbs which create this desired atmosphere. Often in English this hallowed state is sought by using the word “old” and by writing of cemeteries and grandmas. These English tricks wear thin quickly.
rocky spring
lips taking a sip
from a stone mouth
or
coming home
flower
by flower
The Technique of Wabi: The twin to sabi who has as many personas can be defined as: “Beauty judged to be the result of living simply. Frayed and faded Levis have the wabi that bleached designer jeans can never achieve”. Thus one can argue that the above haiku samples are really more wabi than sabi - and suddenly one understands the big debate. However, I offer one more ku that I think is more wabi than sabi because it offers a scene of austere beauty and poignancy.
parting fog
on wind barren meadows
birth of a lamb
The Technique of Yûgen: Another of these Japanese states of poetry which is usually defined as “mystery” and “unknowable depth”. Somehow yûgen has avoided the controversy of the other two terms, but since deciding which haiku exemplifies this quality is a judgemental decision, there is rarely consent over which ku has it and which one does not. In my glossary I am brave enough to propound: “One could say a woman's face half-hidden behind a fan has yûgen. The same face half-covered with pink goo while getting a facial, however, does not”. But still haiku writers do use the atmosphere as defined by yûgen to make their ku be a good haiku by forcing their readers to think and to delve into the everyday sacredness of common things. (In a letter from Jeanne Emrich, she suggests one can obtain yûgen by having something disappear, or something appear suddenly out of nowhere, or by the use of night, fog, mist, empty streets, alleys, and houses. Using the sense-switching technique can create an air of mystery because of the information from the “missing” sense.) Some English writers have tried to create yûgen by using the word “old” which became so overused there was an outcry against the adjective.
tied to the pier
the fishy smells
of empty boats
The Technique of the Paradox: One of the aims of the playing with haiku is to confuse the reader just enough to attract interest. Using a paradox will engage interest and give the reader much to think about. Again, one cannot use nonsense but has to construct a true (connected to reality) paradox. It is not easy to come up with new ones or good ones, but when it happens, one should not be afraid of using it in a haiku.
climbing the temple hill
leg muscles tighten
in our throats
The Technique of the Improbable World: This is very close to paradox but has a slight difference. Again, this is an old Japanese tool which is often used to make the poet sound simple and child-like. Often it demonstrates a distorted view of science - one we “know” is not true, but always has the possibility of being true (as in quantum physics).
evening wind
colours of the day
blown away
or
waiting room
a patch of sunlight
wears out the chairs
The Technique of Humour: This is the dangerous stuff. Because one has no way of judging another person's tolerance for wisecracks, jokes, slurs, bathroom and bedroom references, one should enter the territory of humour as if it is strewn with land-mines. And yet, if one is reading before a live audience nothing draws in the admiration and applause like some humorous haiku. Very often the humour of a haiku comes from the honest reactions of humankind. Choose your terms carefully, add to your situation with appropriate leaps, and may the haiku gods smile on you.
dried prune faces
guests when they hear
we have only a privy
The Above as Below Technique: Seeming to be a religious precept, yet this technique works to make the tiny haiku a well-rounded thought. Simply said: the first line and the third line exhibit a connectedness or a completeness. Some say one should be able to read the first line and the third line to find it makes a complete thought. Sometimes one does not know in which order to place the images in a haiku. When the images in the first and third lines have the strongest relationship, the haiku usually feels “complete”. For exercise, take any haiku and switch the lines around to see how this factor works or try reading the haiku without the second line.
holding the day
between my hands
a clay pot
This ku is also using the riddle technique.
In searching for these examples, I found so many more of my haiku which did not fit into any of these categories, which tells me there are surely many more techniques which are in use but are waiting for discovery, definition and naming. I stop here, hoping I have given you enough to pique your interest in the quest and new ways of exploring the miracles of haiku.
Blessed be!
Editor's Note: This article and others may be read at Jane's ahapoetry website. It appears here by kind permission of the author.
