We entrained, and drove, past Aberdyfi and Tywyn and Llanegrin and Bird Rock to Jane's farmhouse between the hills.
and miles of grief
for a small life gone
Ken
to the land of my fathers
empty landscape
Meg
Melissa welcomed us with an apple crumble and we assembled: Ken, Megan, Kim, George and Yan, and Melissa. Sean O'Connor and Jim Norton sent greetings. Bill Wyatt sent best wishes, some advice, and some haiku:
through the meditation root
pine tree shadows
neither drunk nor asleep
I arrive at today
barely autumn, leaves falling -
a fire-fly's dream
After dinner, a planning meeting, the reading of some haibun, and some recent poems brought along to be the first to go up on the wall.
I was with it
when it died
Ken
the universe
reduced to a nipple
George
After the long journey, deep sleep, dreams, and the morning awakening...
the same notes each morning
for 10,000 years
George
capsized
by the clatter of my alarm
Ken
the landscapes in their frames
and my empty clothes
Ken
... to the morning meditation.
two ancient hands
clasped in my lap
Meg
The morning discussion centred on distinguishing shasei haiku from haiku which have an imaginative resonance, an existential after taste, and ...
as thickly growing ferns
inside a cave"
(Takoko Kobayashi)
Ken introduced a polemical article, arguing for a rediscovery of the imagination in haiku, www.redthreadhaiku.org/articles/recovery-of-haiku.htm.
wren at the window
hops from thought to thought
George
Then Ken offered a stimulating selection of haiku to kukai. The most often preferred poem was a Basho one which combines the best of both styles, shasei observation, and allusive resonance of image:
into the ripples
fall green pine needles"
There was also a striking Kenneth White...
old earth-man
wrapped in weather"
... and an amazing empty death poem by John Parsons:
the gunshot's echo
through dead elms"
We returned to the kitchen table:
the chestnut shine
gone
Melissa
The laughing poets reacting to the re-writing on the wall.
In the afternoon, some visited the church and the art gallery in Machynlleth, and some the beach:
of gravestones
lichens I cannot name
Kim
and breathing floor polish
Victorian saints
Ken
across the sand
to boats long gone
Meg
the white roar of surf
in my heart
George
each year's erosion
a fresh sculpture
Melissa
the push and rush
of waves approaching
Melissa
the dog turd too
exquisite
Melissa
washed away
the sandfly hops
Yan
are closing
one by one
Kim
Sunday was wet for the morning session, and Kim then raised the question, "Where is the ego in haiku?"
to the bold gaze
of a sheep
Ken
a stranger now
him, in the mirror
Ken
the mist drifts
around the edges
of my solitude
Ken
Sunday afternoon too there were walks, after the morning rain cleared up.
rain pouring off the hills
pouring off the hills
Melissa
dungflies
in autumn sunshine
George
And by night time the sky was completely clear.
lights
the promise of autumn
Yan
this long night
the stone house
Meg
an immense night sky
creamy with stars
George
