Categories
Poetry Travel & Food

Every Fog Has its Day

I have seen fog three times this week. Each time, this Carl Sandburg poem came to mind:

The fog comes 
on little cat feet.

It sits looking 
over harbor and city 
on silent haunches 
and then moves on.

“Fog” by Carl Sandburg

There is indeed beauty in fog, but there are plenty of other weather occurrences that are sublime — you’ve heard me go on and on (and on and on) about sunrises. Sandburg’s poem is memorable because it challenges readers to think about fog the same way they would think about a person. In the real world, fog is a cloud at ground level. In Sandburg’s world, fog is alive and observant, but unwilling to interfere in the lives of the people and places it touches. There’s something supernatural about that.

Enough poetry. Let’s look at some fog pictures from this week. Here’s what I saw Monday morning on my run — the bay was completely obscured.

Hillsborough Bay

On Tuesday, the view from Bayshore was pretty much the same.

Bayshore Boulevard at Rome Avenue

By Wednesday morning, the view from Bayshore was back to normal. These photos were taken from the same spot Tuesday and Wednesday. You can see the difference if you swipe backward and forward.

Tampa was fog-free on Thursday, but the Complimentary Spouse and I encountered more of the thick gray stuff on our drive through rural Alabama. This photo was taken on U.S. Highway 231 between Ozark and Troy.

Driving through Southern Alabama

Of course, I had seen fog many times before Monday. Here are photos from foggy experiences I’ve had around the world.

Fiordland National Park, New Zealand, 2010
Franz Josef Glacier, New Zealand, 2010
Marin Headlands, 2012
Juneau, Alaska, 2012
Paris, 2018

A final thought about fog, which I shall keep in mind as I continue writing my novel:

Writing is like driving at night in the fog. You can only see as far as your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way.

E.L. Doctorow
Categories
Poetry

A Reminder That I Am the Greatest Poet of My Generation

Note: Eons ago, when I was a newspaper reporter in the early 2000s, I used to write the occasional haiku — mainly goofy stuff that sometimes I would share on the newsroom messaging system. Those haiku were lost to posterity, but in 2009 I was able to unearth them and posted them on one of the earlier iterations of The Daily Dave. Here is what I posted in 2009 — you’ll notice that the haiku themselves go back even further than that.

So, basically, I’m reposting a post from 2009, and that post is a compilation of other posts from 2002 and 2003. Got it? I’m not sure I do, but let’s press on anyway.

Many people have said that I am the finest haiku writer of my generation. Here is some long-lost evidence.

Nearly all of the haiku I wrote in 2002 and 2003 was lost at the end of 2003, when the original Daily Dave mysteriously disappeared somewhere in the Bermuda Triangle. While we had lost all hope of ever reclaiming the original content that made up America’s Favorite Blog Before Anybody Knew What A Blog Was, a team of forensic poets has been working since early 2004 to reconstruct all of the haiku.

After five years and nearly $5 billion, 99.8% of the haiku has been recovered and is ready to present to the public. These poems will illuminate the aesthetic and zeitgeist of an America that existed long ago — and provide fresh insight into our own time, values, and morals. Reposting these haiku to the Web might prove to be the most valuable contribution to literature in the information age.1

On Tuesday, February 12, 2002, the very first Daily Dave post combined my two greatest loves, donuts and haiku:

And now, my first senryu for the Tally office:
Golden glazed donuts —
Treats for your heart and belly.

They were Krispy Kremes, FYI.

A second post later that day included another haiku:

Today is Florida Space Day in Tallahassee, and any organization or company with ties to NASA has set up a booth in the Capitol building. Here’s a nice litle senryu to celebrate the occasion:

Astronaut squeeze toys,
“Ground control to Major Tom”—
Free ballpoints for all!

Wednesday, February 13, 2002

Friday the 13th,
Unluckiest day of all.
Wednesday? No problem.

So, what exactly is the difference between haiku and senryu? The way I understand it, both are Japanese poetry forms that follow the 5-7-5 syllable scheme, but haiku generally deal with nature, and senryu can be about pretty much anything else. Therefore, if you’re reading a poem about cherry blossom leaves, you’re most likely looking at haiku. If the poem mentions dental floss, Derek Jeter, or the Dow Jones Industrial Average, I’ll bet you dollars to donuts that it’s senryu.

Speaking of donuts, let me just state for the record that little powdered donuts are quite tasty. I’ve probably written a half dozen senryu about these torus-shaped slices of heaven at Simanoff.com. Sadly, all of these were written in the unenlightened days when I called all 5-7-5 poems haiku because I didn’t know any better. I must thank Gregg Easterbrook and his Tuesday Morning Quarterback column at Slate.com for lifting me from the abyss and showing me the senryu light.

According to my former Japanese history professor, Mark Ravina, this is how you pronounce senryu:

It is actually tricky because the ryu is one syllable — not “ree-you” but something that would rhyme with “shoe.” Then the final sound “u” is lengthened. So it rhymes with “shoooo.” The sen rhymes with “pen.” Hope that doesn’t clarify anything — it’s not like you’re still paying tuition or something.

Of course, most of my linguistic crusades are short-lived, and you should expect me to drop this one pretty quickly and revert to using the word haiku so that people know what the hell I’m talking about. That’s probably a good thing since explaining the difference between haiku and senryu would take time away from my single-handed effort to keep the subjunctive mood alive in American English.

Wednesday, March 13, 2002

A beer truck hit a school bus in northeast Tampa this morning. There were no children on the bus, but apparently, beer is spilling all over Bruce B. Downs Boulevard. Here was my haiku-style response, which I filed on the Trib’s message system:

Precious tasty beer,
Spilling all over Bruce B. Downs—
Where is my straw please?

Here are some of the responses:

A haiku? Geeze, I’d forgotten what a haiku was since gradeating
hi skool!
(YHAMMETT, 3/13/02 11:23)

beer on a school bus? shocking!
(COPS, P MORGAN, 3/13/02 11:24)

RE MSG 3/13 “Where is my straw, please?…”: Who drinks beer
with a straw? Be a man.. go out there and drink from the
source.
(NGREGOIRE, 3/13/02 11:26)

big beer truck go crash/I spy cans rolling on ground/think I’ll
call in sick
(COPS, LENGELL, 3/13/02 11:32)

beer spills; down drainpipes; bypassing consumers
(COPS, BRENNAN, 3/13/02 11:36)

suds pool languidly/ slaking canine, feline thirsts/ tempting
reporters.
(COPS, BARRY, 3/13/02 11:40)

Wednesday, March 20, 2002

A Tallahassee senryu:

Senators babble.
Meeting enters fourteenth hour.
So bored. Butt is numb.

Friday, March 22, 2002

It’s supposedly the last day of the Legislative session here in Tallahassee, and the bureau chief here sent the following message to his reporters:

Be bold with your strokes and scrawls today boys. Let’s make
it all forward-looking and highly energetic reading
tomorrow…Weave show-don’t-tell details with sharp analysis
and perfectly chosen quotes. Like we do every day, but more so.
(TALLY, WARK, 3/22/02 13:32)

My response, of course, was to suggest that we instead write all of the stories in haiku form. 

The bureau chief’s reply:

Instead, let’s write every story in haiku form. (TALLY, DSIMANOFF, 3/22/02 13:38) See, and you all thought that reminder was unwarranted.
(WARK, 3/22/02 13:42)

Wanting the last word, I responded with this message:

Haiku are more fun
Than inverted pyramids,
Whatever the story.

Friday, April 5, 2002

After four months of disgust up here in Tallahassee, my faith in our political process was restored today when the Florida Senate, forced into an all-or-nothing situation by the House of Representatives, decided to throw out an important, 1,800-page school bill.

Their reason? The bill contains a very short but broadly worded section that allows religious proselytizing in schools. Since the Senate couldn’t excise that small provision, they stood up for their principles and dumped the entire bill, despite heavy pressure to adopt it from Gov. Jeb Bush.

It was a justifiable case of throwing out the baby with the bathwater, in my opinion.

Here is a haiku I wrote earlier today when things were starting to heat up on the Senate floor. I have been informed that “conference” is three syllables, although it sounds like a two-syllable word when I say it.

Done deal comes undone.
Conference bill has blown up.
A big clusterfuck.

Monday, May 20, 2002

A haiku on the 13th anniversary of Gilda Radner’s death:

Riotous Gilda!
Exuberant, beautiful—
It’s always something.

Tuesday, May 21, 2002

Today’s haiku, written as I stare longingly out of the newsroom window:

Tuesday, 3:40.
Across Hillsborough River,
Tiki Bar beckons.


Andrew Meadows’ response, in haiku form:

Dave buys the first round,
Seconds thirds fourths fifths. I pay–
Time for a cab ride.

Jerry Stockfisch’s response:

I curse the Tiki Bar for taunting me.

Tuesday, September 24, 2002

Here’s a little senryu about weblogs I wrote for Pauly McGuire:

When you have a blog,
Everything is blogworthy …
Except this haiku.

Tuesday, November 19, 2002

Just for the hell of it, here’s the plot of “La Boheme” in haiku form:

Joyful poor artists.
Mimi’s hand is freezing cold.
Now she’s dead. Life sucks
.

Wednesday, November 20, 2002

Today’s iPod opera is “Carmen” by Georges Bizet. Here is my synopsis in haiku form:

Time for a smoke break.
Hey, look, it’s the bullfighter!
José kills Carmen.

Miss Cherizon suggested I write a haiku about “Les Misérables.” Here’s what I came up with:

Run away, Cosette!
Here comes the Revolution.
2-4-6-0-1.

America’s Favorite Personal Finance Writer Scott Nelson suggests more haiku-worthy operas: Verdi’s “La Traviata” and Mozart’s “Le Nozze Di Figaro.”

La Traviata:

Tuberculosis
used to be called consumption.
Either way, the girl dies.


Figaro:

The count wants his way
With the barber’s fiancee.
Comedy ensues.

Miss Cherizon gets the credit for the last line of this one:

Die Zauberflöte:

On Tamino’s quest,
Papageno finds fowl love.
Magic glockenspiel!

Okay, here’s the last one for today —I swear:

The entire Ring des Nibelungen series:

The fat lady sings.
Her Viking helmet sprouts horns.
Wagner hates the Jews.

Monday, January 20, 2003 (MLK day)

Connor’s dogs are dead.
Ignorance, stupidity,
Are enemies still.

Tuesday, June 3, 2003

Assistant Business Editor Katrina Ferreira brought a box of snack-size candy bars to work today, prompting me to write my first staff haiku in a long time:

All hail Katrina,
Bringer of sugary treats.
Alas, no Twix left.

I hope we get Kit Kat bars next time!

Wednesday, July 30, 2003

It looks like Lord & Taylor is saying bye-bye to the Tampa market. Here’s a haiku that’s made up of snippets of a message Miss Cherizon sent me:

I never shopped there.
Um, did you ever shop there?
Oh wait. Once. That’s it.

Thursday, September 18, 2003

A haiku for Thursday afternoon about my past:

A missed gayness clue:
Social dance course in college.
One, two, three, cha-cha!

Tuesday, September 30, 2003

And now, just for the hell of it, here is a senryu composed entirely of anagrams for “Ohio State Buckeyes” —

Beastie coke youths.
Ethics: yoke to abuse.
I see buttocks, oh yea!

The syllable scheme is 5+6+6, which isn’t perfect haiku form but still adds up to 17. Another good anagram is “Touchiest obese yak.”


_____
1 Actually, that’s a complete and total line of bullshit. I’m posting these to remind Lee Barnes2 that I’m quite proficient with three lines and 17 syllables.
2 That’s right, Barnes. I’m talking to you. Writing one clever haiku about Harley-Davidson owners several years ago doesn’t even put you in the running to be considered as one of the finest haiku writers of your generation! So there.

Categories
Poetry

I Don’t Care if I Ever Get Back

USA Today: “Cubs Prospect Arrested With 21 Pounds of Meth in Team Duffel Bag”

A haiku:

Peanuts, crackerjack?
What else is at the snack bar
At the old ball game?

Categories
Poetry

Everybody Loves Haiku!

Opportunity
Or more indecisiveness?
Which will win this time?

Britt was in Denver
To see sister, niece, nephew.
I was very bored.

More than one haiku?
They’re haiku. Just like with moose,
Don’t tack on an -s.

Categories
Poetry

Haiku in the News

USA Today: Opinion: Tom Brady Has Gotten an Undeserved Pass for his Past Support of Donald Trump

Tom Brady is a
Poster child for white privilege —
But, hey, let’s go Bucs!

NBC News: David Hogg Launching Pillow Company to ‘put MyPillow out of Business’

Sleep soundly each night
Knowing an unhinged liar
Didn’t get your cash

New York Magazine: GOP Congresswoman Blamed Wildfires on Secret Jewish Space Laser

Giant space lasers
Could transform Jewish life, but
Don’t tell the mohels

Categories
Current Events Poetry

“When Day Comes, We Step out of the Shade Aflame and Unafraid”

I studied poetry as an undergrad, but I haven’t given it much thought since graduation.1 I think the last book of poetry I bought was by Walt Whitman at a museum in 2005. It’s probably yellowing now in storage next to books by Shakespeare and Sharon Olds.

But, today, my appreciation for poetry was rekindled. Amanda Gorman’s poem at the inauguration, “The Hill We Climb,” was powerful and moving. She found just the right combination of words to articulate our frustrations today and dreams for tomorrow. She was clearly inspired by pain and rage — but also hope and empathy. It was a masterpiece.

See for yourself: 

I’m awestruck (and pretty damn jealous) of her literary power. 

Perhaps it’s time to dig up those old poetry books — and maybe even take a stab at a stanza or two myself. If this is what poetry is today, I want to be a part of it.


1 When I earned my MBA, we had to read Milton Friedman, not John Milton.

Categories
Poetry

Five Hours Till the Inauguration

A haiku:

Please, please, please, please, please.
Please let nothing bad happen.
Please, please, please, please, please.

Categories
Poetry

Hypocrisy in 17 Syllables

A haiku:

“We want unity!”
Say the folks whose T-shirts said,
“Trump: Fuck your Feelings.”