River currents
one by one the geese
bottom up
another spring
a tumble of stuffed bears
in the divorcee’s bed
from her bedroom
the child banishes
snakes and skeletons
snowfall
the wings of pigeons fold
into the tree
“River currents” & “snowfall” – “A Flutter of Wings” (2003)
“from her bedroom” – driveway from childhood (1997)
“another spring” – Modern Haiku (Autumn 2003)
October 25, 2005
ness-less too long
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thank you, Rosa Parks
The media are filled with tributes to Rosa Parks, as we mourn
her death yesterday at the age of 92. (see NYT article). Nearly
50 years ago — or, more to the point, only 50 years ago — she
was a catalyst for the civil rights movement and the fight for
true equality by Blacks in America. Her courage came in the
simple refusal to give up her seat on a bus to a white man and
thus continue to accept second-class citizenship in Montgomery,
Alabama.
orig./Higgins/NYT
I was 5 years old when Mrs. Parks took her stand, and I can’t
remember the actual event. However, its repercussions were
felt and seen in our news media — and on the new tv that came
into my childhood home — as I was growing up. For those who
wonder why many Blacks still feel that they are considered to be
less than fully-equal by many of their fellow Americans, here is
an example of the treatment they received less than 50 years ago,
when they tried to use public transportation to get to and from
work or school (from today’s NYT):
“On Montgomery buses, the first four rows were reserved
for whites. The rear was for blacks, who made up more
than 75 percent of the bus system’s riders. Blacks could
sit in the middle rows until those seats were needed by
whites. Then the blacks had to move to seats in the rear,
stand or, if there was no room, leave the bus. Even getting
on the bus presented hurdles: If whites were already sitting
in the front, blacks could board to pay the fare but then they
had to disembark and re-enter through the rear door.”
Mrs. Parks’ arrest led to a boycott of bus by the City’s black popu-
lation. As the New York Times explains:
“Finally, on Nov. 13, 1956, in Browder v. Gayle [352 US 903],
the Supreme Court outlawed segregation on buses. The court
order arrived in Montgomery on Dec. 20; the boycott ended the
next day. But the violence escalated: snipers fired into buses
as well as Dr. [Martin Luther] King’s home, and bombs were
tossed into churches and into the homes of ministers.”
At a time when so many Americans know so little of our history; when
we call people “heroes” for simply doing their jobs or for accepting respon-
sibilities that should be expected of every person in our society; and when
financial or social interests over taking the right or ethical course of action
(thanks to the example or indifference of their elders, I must note), I want
to thank Rosa Parks for her courage and dignity.
Moonlight spills through clouds…
a new tombstone
scattered with wilted flowers
Cold tea in cups—
sweaters draped over chairs
in the garden pagoda
Autumn evening–
yellow leaves cover
the plot reserved for me
“Moonlight spills” & “Autumn evening” – Shadwell Hills
“cold tea” – Modern Haiku (Spring 2004)
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a quick haiku break with john and yu (and Edith)
How do you wile away your time in medical waiting rooms? This
morning, I was lucky enough to remember to bring the newest edition
of Upstate Dim Sum (2005/II), the journal of the Route 9 Haiku Group
here in Upstate New York. While I work up a hospital-gown senryu
or two, here are a pair each from John Stevenson and Yu Chang for
all of you impatient for your f/k/a haiku fix:
sting
of the old man’s
fastball
eightieth birthday
still playing
the numbers
from Upstate Dim Sum (2005/II)
French Open
a couch potato
pumps his fist
evergreens
a long walk
with an old friend
from Upstate Dim Sum (2005/II)
afterwords (5 PM): I just discovered a small cache of tiny poems by
Edith Wharton, thanks to a post at George Wallace’s Fool in the Forest.
George reproduces a half dozen examples “of imagism or semi-haiku,”
that had been published in the January 1920 issue of the Yale
Review. They appear in a brand new American Poet’s Project
volume of Wharton’s poetry. Here are two of her short pieces:
I
My little dog:
A heart-beat
At my feet.
. . .
III Friendship
The silence of midnight,
A dying fire,
And the best unsaid. . . .
p.s. George, Now that you’ve met him, would you say
– speaking of old men, betting, psyched fans, etc.,
our baseball haiku page is always in season, and
especially during the World Series.
