MUSASHI-SAN
Haibun
Who are the ones who awake without hearing
the sound of the sun-filled
clouds
dancing upon the edges of an outstretched wing?
And who am I?
To stand alone like a swordsman
without his sword,
a mere figure
in the unresolved distance
like a brushstroke
awaiting a scroll—
an empty bowl
ungrateful for the pleasure
of its emptiness
—from Rattle #47, Spring 2015
Tribute to Japanese Forms
2016 Neil Postman Award Winner
__________
Jack Vian: “For the incarcerated poet, a poem is more than just a literary construct, it is an ideal given flesh. It’s the difference in wishing that a passing plane will notice the ship-wrecked castaways, and taking the time to carve an SOS in the beach or put a message in a bottle. So I’m always thankful when readers find something worthwhile in my experience. The only Japanese form that I use regularly is the haiku, and my practice of that had fallen into arrears. But I wrote this highly versified almost-haibun while reading a biography of Miyamoto Musashi.”
