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Wisteria Journal
Jim Kacian
These seventeen haibun are intended as a single work, to which there are attached an Introduction and a Dedication. Since you will be reading these only one at a time, however, it seems more appropriate that this apparatus follow the final installment, and this is where you will find them. My thanks to Simply Haiku for offering these in their entirety.
Jim Kacian
walking for hours the misty grounds of O-jima, largest and nearest island
in Matsushima Bay an ancient isle of the dead, replete with elaborate
shrines, massive pines, and poetry stones, the symbols of eternal life we
must imagine, because of the fog, the other eight hundred islands scattered
across the waters here, whose beauty reduced the poet (reputedly
Bashô) to near wordlessness in his praise—
in my irreverence i think it like Maine, and imagine paddling my kayak
through mild currents to rocky shores there’s no one on the water here,
though a fleet of fishing boats sits at anchor picturesque in the fog tatters
an insipid yellow glow stands in for the sun
our guides—old Kenzo, spritely Saito—tell us it’s not a day specified for
fishing, and when i ask why one must wait for a specified day they change
the subject rather than accommodate my ignorance they shift attention
back to the shrouded bay, pointing out the ancient beauty spots we might
see if only the gods would permit it it’s a cold day, and the raw wind cuts
through us after a time sufficient to our imaginings we gratefully adjourn
to the tiny unlit shack that serves as guide’s headquarters weak but
pleasingly hot coffee warms us back to loquacity
the usual conversation ensues—where are we from, how do we like Japan—
and we take turns satisfying their interests in America, becoming guides to
their vicarious visits before long we fall silent together we can barely
make each other out in the chiaroscuro
gathering dusk we are only voices in the dark
breaking a long pause, Kenzo apologizes, and even in the gloom i see his
slight bow Saito, he tells us, was a last-minute substitute for the regular
guide we protest, and insist that Saito was expert and we are very pleased,
but he bows again “the man whom Saito replaced,” he goes on to say,
“died suddenly this morning, about one o’clock” we don’t know what to
say and keep the cups to our lips
but there is more slowly he lifts a clenched fist to his chest “heart attack?” we ask, and he nods
“he was an old man, as old as I,” he says and lapses again into a far-eyed
silence
it’s nearly time for our train we repeat our assurances that we have been well met, and add our condolences we gather gloves and hats and take a last warm pull at the coffee
quietly, after the sound of our last goodbyes has died, he adds “he was my
best friend”
O-jima—beneath the century pines a sapling
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Jim Kacian is a past editor of Frogpond (the international membership journal of the Haiku Society of America, and the largest haiku magazine outside of Japan), is past president of the Haiku Society of America and was a co-founder of the World Haiku Association. He has had over 1000 haiku published in English-language journals and magazines in more than 20 countries and was winner most recently of the prestigious James Hackett Award (2002). He has published 7 books, all of which have won major awards. He is author of How to Haiku, a primer for English-speaking poets, as well as numerous articles on haiku form and praxis. He owns and operates Red Moon Press, the largest publishing house dedicated to haiku in the world.