Jim Kacian
no thing
is what it seems, all words are slightly wrung . . . a freeble silted stream melandering by a farm might be the unnamed river of croglodytes and immortunity . . . swimming it i’m gnared by camivorous fish, which when it’s drained turn out to be the shart edges of an iron windvein . . . the farmer speaks an old tongue to his peasants, hishing and glagoritic . . . he has a roaster killed for the meal, but it’s sprats and lamb on the platter . . . the procension to the barn is lit like a set for a 1940s Hollywood howdown, outbrageous shardows and gilty hay . . . it all harpens in August, and is thermed “Eastre”
same as yesterday— a story to keep myself company
About the Author
Jim Kacian is founder and president of The Haiku Foundation as well as chairman of its board; founder and owner of Red Moon Press; and editor in chief of Haiku in English: The First Hundred Years (W. W. Norton, 2013).
No Thing prompted me to write a response Haibun I entitled Something. Enjoyed your language especially the shart edges.
Len Germinara