I agree with
Edin Saracevic in his forward to Alenka Zorman's book, Butterfly on the
Shoulder,
that Zorman is a prolific poet who
has contributed much
to the Slovenian Haiku movement. But I disagree with his assertion that "life
is the lonely, everyday subject matter upon which haiku creators draw." This
is a reflection of his own inner workings, perhaps, but not indicative
of haiku and the breath it draws upon. Haiku is vital, a communication
with
nature, spirit, and the ambiguities that interweave the two. Haiku is a
walk, a way of viewing life...a life that is "lonely" and "everyday" only
if we choose for it to be. Saracevic talks about Zorman and expounds his
own views on haiku for 19 pages, making this one of the longest Forwards
I have ever read.
Zorman needs little
introduction. She is well known in the world haiku community and respected
for her unique signature style.
The Forward detracts
from the
poet and her poetry. Saracevic sometimes makes statements in his forward
that on the surface sound fine, but are incorrect when examined as a
whole. Take for instance, "...unforced jesting which is
at the core of life itself, and hence is also the essence of
haiku." After this statement,
he cites as examples the following senryu penned by Zorman:
my husband away
I arrange our slippers
more carefully
job interview
candidate's hands
as if in prayer
Haiku and senryu
are two different, albeit closely related entities. Calling one
the other does not help the credibility of Zorman. And
it adds confusion
to an already befuddled poetic community grappling with what a senryu
is and isn't, thanks in part to statement's like Saracevic's and
other pseudo
academics, who have not studied the genre and appear to be speaking
from the hip versus expounding beliefs based on sound academic scholarship.
Save for the forward,
Zorman's book of haiku and senryu is a delight to read. The poet is
a complex, sensitive human who
gives us a glimpse
into
a world
not ordinarily associated with haiku, although that is changing.
When at last Zorman's
poetry is shared on page 20, her artistry becomes apparent.
early morning
bedroom window still open
to the full moon
The poet has a love
affair with the moon and apparently spent several hours gazing at
it. When she wakes up before sunrise,
the window
to nature and
her longing is open, the moon still there...as if she hadn't
left it. The haiku reminds me of Shiki during his final days,
when he
was confined
to
bed and had only his yard to look at, and wrote:
Cockscomb---
I'm sure there are at least
Fourteen or fifteen stalks.
—Masaoka Shiki
(Translation
by Donald Keene)
bright morning
a spider weaves his web
in front of the mirror
Zorman sees beauty
in things that many people would take for granted or not notice. Perhaps
it is the inner
child in her.
And like a
child, she
is fascinated
by a spider's web and the interplay of light and
shadow painted by this marriage of mirror and sky, which
in itself, can
be seen as
a metaphor
dealing with
what is real and what is perceived to be real.
autumn forest
step by step
whisper by whisper
Zorman listens ardently
to nature, even when it whispers, taking nothing for granted. Suddenly
the reader
is there with her,
as excited as she
is, listening, watching, and sensing. Zorman
has that rare ability as a poet
to draw readers into her poetry, to bring them
into the experiential.
New Year's Day
a boy sees the dawn
in Braille
In this haiku, Zorman
introduces readers to nature as perceived by a blind child. She reminds
us that blind people
do see in a way removed
from our
own realm of experience. Using "Braille" to
get her point across, she reminds us that
unsighted people use a variety of senses
to experience
and visualize the world around them; that
they too can experience nature and enjoy
possibly an even deeper
relationship
that those who are sighted.
on both sides
of the neighbor's fence
the year ends
Zorman's poetry
is deeply textured and layered. There is room for multiple
interpretations and interplay
of thought. She infuses
in her
observations a magic necessitating the
need to ruminate
and ponder; poetry that that refuses
to go away, lingering like
the scent
of
a fragrant
flower.
Alenka Zorman's
book of poetry is one many readers will find themselves reading again
and again. Unlike
the "in one ear out the other" haiku
and senryu appearing in a lot of today's journals
and e-zines, hers is indelible,
fresh, and vital. Skip the Forward and dive in.
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