I have started writing the haiku again, on the regular, actually doing tankas with myself since I don’t really remember what I wrote three days later, so I guess it will work. If the weather is nice this weekend, since I will be home with the kids as the wife is studying elsewhere on some herbal doctoring tip, I may try to finish polyurethaning the original 12-pack haiku boxes project so that I can get some more grommets and brass chain and finish that shit completely. I find haiku to be a great form of writing because it’s quick blasts of observation, like a sample in music. But it’s also a form of writing chock full of pretentious assholes and fake ass organic food eating pseudo-Zen Buddhists mad adept at studying the fingertip instead of the reflection of the sun upside the moon’s head.
By the way, if you are a Yellowman Poetry Dork like myself, you probably know about Han Shan and how he’s like the MF Doom of the T’ang Dynasty. Well, I’d like to tell you that Red Pine’s translation of Han Shan’s shit smokes pretentious asshole fingertip studying Gary Snyder’s translation. Also, Red Pine’s The Clouds Should Know Me By Now compilation is pretty tight too.
I wish there was more
to say, but it's late. I'm drunk.
Work is in five hours.
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