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Feature: Jim Kacian: A Haiku Primer

Chapter 7: A (Very) Brief History of Haiku

There are many books which provide an in-depth account of the origins of haiku, from its roots in the prehistoric mind of the Japanese people up to its current formulations. For those of you who seek a more complete understanding, I refer you to these excellent sources (you will find them in the bibliography for this chapter at the back of the book). For our purposes here, we will merely touch upon a few of the high points of this history, with an eye to what the past of haiku might teach us of the present and future of the form.

It is useful to know that haiku is not a created form – that is, no one person or group of persons devised the rules and format of haiku arbitrarily. Instead, haiku is an evolved form, based on other and previously existing forms of Japanese poetry. Much of what made up its form and content in its classical period was determined by those forms of poetry from which it had arisen. These considerations still have a great deal of weight even today, when haiku is considerably freer than it has been in the past, and a large part of how we judge the value of haiku comes from a knowledge of what the form has been throughout its history.

The origins of haiku, and indeed of all Japanese poetry, are lost to us: we cannot say with any certainty when, in the murk of prehistory, the poets of those times happened upon, and embraced, the rhythm peculiar to and underlying all classical Japanese forms. But since this unrecorded time the alternation of 5- and 7-on phrases has been pleasing to the Japanese ear and sensibility. Its short forms are simply this rhythm, iterated once, capped or uncapped; longer forms are made by stacking multiples of this basic building block together. So we have haiku, which is in the 5-, 7-, 5-on pattern; tanka (literally, short poem) in the 5-, 7-, 5-, 7-, 7-on pattern; sedÙka (head-repeated poem) in the 5-, 7-, 7-, 5-, 7-, 7-on pattern; and chuka (long poem) in the 5-, 7-, 5-, 7- [. . .] 5-, 7-, 7-on pattern. There is something inescapable to this rhythm to the Japanese sensibility, and so it has been utilized and endorsed as the basis for its poetic for all these years.

It does not end here. All the above forms are written by individuals. But the Japanese hold poetry to be a communal activity as well, and it is no surprise that the form utilized for this communal poetry should incorporate this 5-, 7- rhythm as well. Renga (literally linked poetry) is an alternation of kami no ku (5-, 7-, 5-on) and shimo no ku (7-, 7-on) stanzas.

All these forms have their own properties and poetics, differing from haiku in significant ways. Yet all are related by holding this rhythmic impulse in common. We shall consider some of these forms in the next chapter. Haiku arose from the practice of renga. Renga was a serious art form in Japan from about the 12th century until Shiki’s time, that is to say, the beginning of the 20th century. Shiki denounced renga as artificial, and it fell into disuse. It has made something of a comeback in contemporary times, and is now more usually termed renku to indicate the modern form of this ancient practice.

Renga had many, and complicated, rules governing what might be included in a sequence of linked stanzas, as well as rules concerning what seasons ought to be included in what number and order, what topics were allowed, and many other considerations. What concerns us primarily is that renga always began with a kami no ku stanza, that is, a 5-, 7-, 5-on stanza, created by the rengashi, or renga master, supposedly at the time and place of the occasion during which the renga was to be composed. This stanza was termed the hokku (literally opening stanza). It was often written on the spot, but since it was not easy to create excellent hokku on demand (any more than it is to produce excellent haiku), rengashi began to create them in advance and stockpile them for use at an appropriate time. In so doing they could more carefully craft each hokku, and be certain that each poem contained not only its topical material but also a depth, or resonance, so that the poem (and its possible links) could open outward. In this way, hokku are the true predecessors of haiku, since they were created independently, and needed to incorporate a seasonal aspect, as well as a sense of the place in which they were created: all aspects which came to be integral to haiku.

The great early figures of haiku (Basho, for example) were not haiku poets: they were, instead, rengashi who wrote hokku. It is only in retrospect that we have claimed them for haiku. This is not unfair, since what they wrote were poems which undoubtedly could have been and sometimes were used as hokku, but which also held sufficient interest, integrity and resonance that they could stand alone, without the remainder of the renga necessary to justify their creation. It is this tradition we follow when we write haiku: a poem based on a kami no ku rhythm, incorporating seasonal and place aspects that locate us in the here and now, which contrast (usually) a pair of images which, when juxtaposed, illuminates them in a moment of insight, creating resonance which deepens the moment and connects the writer and the reader.

Like any longstanding literary form, haiku has experienced times during which it was extremely popular, and times when it was all but ignored; times when it was understood by many, and times when it was ridiculed. It has undergone many conceptions of what it must be and what it is for: all the great writers of haiku have imbued it with their own personal conceptions of what makes haiku matter. And, of course, the energy of their genius makes it seem so during their time, and for some time after. But in retrospect, it is possible, perhaps, to see that haiku is really a very flexible knot of energy, to use the analogy we used in our introduction: it is capable of sustaining many quite disparate theories of poetics, and produce fine work in all of them. In the course of haiku’s history, poets as diverse as Basho and Issa have worked within this same form and produced their own distinctive masterworks, but all identifiably haiku. In our contemporary world, there are many schools of thought as to the correct poetics for haiku, but in the long run it will be the form which survives them all, while permitting each the opportunity to create telling poems within the form.

The Great Four in Japan includes Basho, who could write

along this way
no one travels–
autumn eve

but also

late autumn–
I wonder how it goes
with my neighbors?

Buson, a famous painter as well as poet, brings a visual sensibility to bear, as in the peony poem mentioned before, and this:

That’s all there is
: the path comes to an end
amid weedblossoms

Issa is arguably the most popular poet of Japan, even now, almost two centuries after his death. The tragedy of his life did not overcome his basic compassion for his fellow creatures:

don’t give up
lean frog
Issa is here

It was people he mistrusted:

long gone from here
I know nothing of them
but the scarecrows askew

The most recent of those accorded greatness in the Japanese pantheon is Shiki, whose theories about haiku were as integral to his fame as his poems. He favored an objective style, and stated a preference for Buson over Basho:

washing, washing
the length of summer
the Mogami River

but later in his brief life wrote many poems of a personal nature:

two thousand haiku
between me
and two persimmons

As is shown even in these brief selections, they were all very different artists, and each has indelibly marked the form, helping it to expand to its present shape. It is because of their contributions that we can even begin to consider the issues that currently engage us: are kigo necessary? are there topics inappropriate to haiku? is the counting of syllables requisite in any way to the practice of haiku? and so on.

The twentieth century was one of great change throughout the world, and no less in Japan. After Japan’s brief infatuation with things western in the first couple of decades of the century, much of what was traditionally considered valuable in the culture came under question for the first time in Japan. Mid-century, Japan’s involvement in the Second World War was a culturally shattering experience which created a serious rift between those who upheld traditional culture and those who felt the need to speak more directly to the contemporary situation. After a difficult rebuilding period was rewarded with financial success, Japan again late in the century felt a decline in prestige with a loss of economic stature and a series of government failures and scandals. All these things have weighed on the artists of Japan, and are reflected in the kinds of poems which they have produced.

At the beginning of the century, the imposing figure of Shiki shadowed the many who came immediately after. His disciples continued to dominate the literary activities of the haiku community, editing magazines and adjudicating contests. The work of the best of them, such as Hekigoto

scattered maple leaves–
now the garden
is left unswept

and Kyoshi,

stolen
the scarecrow’s hat
leaks rain

can be seen as continuations of Shiki’s own work. Some, however, turned a different way, such as Seisensui,

late night in winter
my shadow and I write down
personal things

Santoka,

deeper and deeper yet the green mountains

Hosai,

beginning to be cold
a Jizo
with a chipped nose

and Shuoshi.

waterfall
the depths of the blue world
pulses

In recent times Japanese haiku has been divided more along political lines than aesthetic ones, although considerable difference can be found between various poets as to what constitutes a modern haiku.

Here is a brief sampling of the variety to be found today:

beneath dead leaves
the snow sinks down
a little

. . . Suju Takano

for a cold instant
a huge broken pendulum
in the river’s delta

. . . Sei Imai

toothache–
obviously green leeks
in the field
. . . Tae Kakimoto

day begins
the death of a gull
plunged into the sea

. . . Kaneko Tohta

burning leaves
the pulsing waves
felt this moment

. . . Yatsuka Ishihara

a dragon has sunk
into the Atlantic Ocean
autumn heat

. . . Ban’ya Natsuishi

This sampling gives only the slightest indications of how varied and rich the practice of haiku remains in Japan, but it is only lately that translations of contemporary masters have become available in English. As we come to know the work of our contemporaries in Japan, we will find that they have moved far from the classical models of Basho and Buson – every bit as far, in fact, as we have in the west.

Haiku, then, has a longstanding, uninterrupted history and lineage in Japanese, but is a relative newcomer here. How exactly did haiku come to the west?

Interest in haiku began outside Japan during a time of relatively free cultural exchange between east and west around the turn of the nineteenth century. Interest was particularly keen in France,Spain, Serbia, England and the United States, fueled by the efforts of pioneer translators. Compare their translation of this haiku by Basho:

yagate shinu keshiki wa miezu semi no koe

Never an intimation in all those voices of semi . . . how quickly
the hush will come . . . how speedily all must die

. . . Translation by Lafcadio Hearn

Qu’elle doit bientÙt mourir,
A son aspect il ne parait pas,
La voix de la cigale!

. . . Translation by Michel Revon

These early attempts, on the whole, failed to encompass the entirety of the form and content of haiku, but some, especially Revon’s, were extremely good work considering the paucity of available literature on the subject. English translations lagged behind, notably Basil Hall Chamberlains’s work, which identified haiku with the epigram, and so misdirected understanding of the form for some while.

Shortly after these first attempts, Ezra Pound, H.D., Amy Lowell and others founded the literary movement called Imagism, which held many of the same tenets as haiku, such as using direct language, emphasizing intuition rather than logic, and above all, brevity. Pound’s “In a Station of the Metro” is often cited as an early example of western haiku:

The apparition of these faces in the crowd :
Petals, on a wet, black bough.

Other important modernist poets provided their own take on this Imagist directive, leading to such poems as Wallace Stevens’ “Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird” and many poems by William Carlos Williams. Poets from Spain, Mexico, France, Germany, Greece, Serbia and elsewhere followed this lead, and slowly over the next 4 decades footholds of understanding were made in each of these countries.

While these strides were being taken, Harold G. Henderson was making his first translations, gathered together in his book The Bamboo Broom (1933). This collection was to form the basis for his later An Introduction to Haiku (1958) which was one of the most influential books in bringing awareness of classical haiku, and more importantly, haiku sensibility, to the west. It is true that in these translations Henderson makes use of rhyme, which later he regretted. Still, the selection and quality of the poems available marked this book as a major leap in understanding the form.

So soon to die,
and no sign of it is showing –
locust cry.

In the aftermath of World War II, another important work appeared, in this case by the British expatriate R. H. Blyth, whose 4-volume Haiku is equally a landmark in our coming to terms with haiku. Blyth’s quirky but often inspired translations, and more, his erudite and Zen-flavored explications of his translations, probably has provided understanding to more English-speaking haiku novices than any other single source. Blyth went on to write more than a dozen other books on haiku, senryu and Japanese culture.

These two seminal works, An Introduction to Haiku and Haiku, can be seen as the poles of the two traditions which have since emerged in western haiku. Henderson’s work is concerned primarily with the poetic form itself, while Blyth’s work is heavily steeped in Zen, and in fact insists that Zen is the proper state of mind for understanding haiku. This position has colored the way in which haiku has been transmitted in the west ever since.

What made’s position more tenable was the readiness of western culture to consider and absorb the secrets of eastern mysticism in the 1950s. Writers like Alan Watts and Daisetz Suzuki expounded the mysteries of Zen, and many westerners were enthralled by the exotic and esoteric aspects of this new import. Among those who found significance in this new way of looking at things were Gary Snyder, Allen Ginsberg, Jack Kerouac and other writers of the Beat Movement. Kerouac mentions Blyth’s 4-volume Haiku, in his novel The Dharma Bums, and later authored more than 800 haiku himself, including some of the best early poems in the form in English.

Missing a kick
at the icebox door
It closed anyway

Snyder and Ginsburg also wrote in the form, albeit less successfully.

It was in the 1960s that haiku began to be recognized as a legitimate western poetic form. Several magazines dedicated to the form in English, notably Haiku, American Haiku, Haiku West, and Modern Haiku emerged from this decade. A first anthology of haiku to be written entirely by western authors, Borrowed Water, appeared from a writing group in California. Most of the work in these early efforts can be seen to be derivative of Japanese models, or else poorly conceived by contemporary standards. But they were important transitional works moving us beyond mere imitation to an aesthetic specifically derived for western content, language and poetics.

The first collection of haiku in English illustrating a thoroughgoing understanding of the form and its posssibilities in its transplanted home is Sun in Skull, a short collection by Cor van den Heuvel.

neon lights
in the rain wet globe
of a penny gum-ball machine

van den Heuvel has gone on to edit The Haiku Anthology, now in its third printing, but first appearing in 1974. The growth of this anthology from 200 to 800 poems, and the tone of the book from tentative first efforts to established resource, is one indication of how far haiku has come in the past 35 years.

Abroad, expatriate American Richard Wright began experimenting with haiku late in his life, but still managing to leave behind more than 4000 poems. Many of these show imitation of Japanese originals, but some few are original and striking, and show promise that he would have been an excellent writer of haiku had he had time to pursue the art further. And Dag Hammerskjold, the Secretary General to the United Nations and a leading international diplomat, published Vagmarking (translated Markings by W. H. Auden), which contained over a hundred haiku-like poems, although they are more aphoristic than our contemporary understanding of the haiku form would allow.

In the 1970s many new magazines emerged, and the first generation of haiku masters writing in English appeared. A sampling of their work:

waiting:
dry snowflakes fall
against the headlights

. . . Jack Cain

Holding the water,
held by it–
the dark mud.

. . . William J. Higginson

A Hallowe’en mask,
floating face up in the ditch,
slowly shakes its head.

. . . Clement Hoyt

pausing
halfway up the stairs–
white chrysanthemums

. . . Elizabeth Searle Lamb

a poppy . . .
a field of poppies!
the hills blowing with poppies!

. . . Michael McClintock

driving
out of the car wash
clouds move
across the hood

. . . Alan Pizzarelli

tide’s far sound . . .
the stars have come in again
to lie among the stones

. . . Martin Shea

and many others. During this time a specifically non-Japanese diction and content began to emerge, more in keeping with the western lineage of haiku as emerging from free verse and imagism than the specifics of classical Japanese haiku.

In addition, a group of poets gathered around Harold G. Henderson in New York to further study the form, and out of this alliance emerged the Haiku Society of America (1973), the first organization of poets dedicated to the form outside Japan. HSA has grown from its initial membership of fewer than 20 poets to an international organization of nearly 1000 members today. In addition, it publishes Frogpond, one of the two most important haiku magazines, along with Modern Haiku, of haiku outside Japan in the world.

Internationally, Jan Bostok created Tweed magazine in 1972 in Australia, Eric Amann founded Cicada in Canada in 1977, and the first European magazine, Haiku, appeared in Yugoslavia under the direction of Dusan Doderovic in 1978. In the 1980s further growth was evidenced by several more magazines emerging, and also the creation of the first haiku presses in the west. Wind Chimes Press, From Here Press, HighCoo Press and others began publishing and distributing collections of haiku as part of the small press revolution that was taking hold throughout the west. In addition, the second edition of van den Heuvel’s The Haiku Anthology was released in 1986.

Many poets emerged as leading practitioners in the 1980s, including

the silence a droplet of water trickles down a stone
. . . R. Clarence Matsuo-Allard

leaves blowing into a sentence
. . . Robert Boldman

Pregnant again . . .
the fluttering of moths
against the window

. . . Jan Bostok

Autumn rain–
a dog looks up at each person
passing on the street

. . . Chuck Brickley

in the dark lobby of the residential hotel a feeling of autumn
. . . A. Davidson

Snow at dusk:
our pot of tea
steeps slowly darker

. . . Betty Drevniok

Among the white bones
of the whale’s ribcage–
the drifting sand

. . . Lorraine Ellis Harr

between church bells
the gentle ringing
of rain

. . . Adele Kenny

she runs to greet me–
so many shades
of april green

. . . Hal Roth

a child is born a new shadow
. . . Ruby Sprigg
One by one to the floor all of her shadows

. . . George Swede

This hot summer sun–
looking for a little give
in the honeydew

. . . Tom Tico

shadows in the grass
our feet grow cool
as we talk of lost friends

. . . Rod Willmot

and many more.

In the 1990s, haiku became even more accessible, as the small press revolution was overtaken by the internet revolution. More people than ever before were exposed to haiku via electronic means. Of course, not all the information available was of the soundest quality, but in terms of sheer numbers, haiku was made available in an unprecedented way to more people in more places than ever before.

Other events brought to practitioners a greater sense of community as well. The Haiku North America series of conferences was inaugurated by Garry Gay and Michael Dylan Welch. These biannual meetings have now been held in San Francisco, Toronto, Portland, Evanston, Boston and New York. They are the largest gatherings of aficionados of haiku anywhere outside Japan.

In addition, significant new haiku presses were established, including Press Here and Red Moon Press. This latter inaugurated the Red Moon Anthology series, annual anthologies of the best haiku and related works published in English each year from around the world; and also the New Resonance series, which recognizes promising newcomers to the world of English-language haiku. Increasingly it is possible to discover what the best poets in the form are doing on a regular basis, meet and discuss with them the present and future of the form, and engage fully in the literary community in a way that was impossible only a few years ago.

Many new voices emerged in the 90s, including:

spring afternoon
I try another combination
on the shed lock

. . . Randy Brooks

starry night–
biting into a melon
full of seeds

. . . Yu Chang

light rain
a woman reading braille
on the porch

. . . David Elliott

snow bound
coloring inside
the lines

. . . Sandra Fuhringer

Hole in the ozone
my bald spot . . .
sunburned

. . . Garry Gay

his side of it.
her side of it.
winter silence

. . . Lee Gurga

In the fire
a log shifts
the flow of thought

. . . Christopher Herold

summer rain
on top of the sheets
we lie without touching

. . . A. C. Missias

a snowy daybreak – everything’s just different shades of violet
. . . Brent Partridge

coming home
flower
by
flower

. . . Jane Reichhold

the men on both sides
have taken
my armrests

. . . Karen Sohne

checking the driver
as I pass a car
just like mine

. . . John Stevenson

after the quake
adding I love you
to a letter

. . . Michael Dylan Welch

Many others from all these decades have been quoted elsewhere in this book, and there are many others besides these worthy of mentioning as well.

New magazines and sites for haiku emerge annually; new anthologies and collections of individual authors are regularly released, and contests held virtually every week. There is increasing notice in the mainstream media (including Newsweek citing Basho as one of the 100 most important cultural figures of the preceding millennium in 1999), and many more outlets for sharing haiku than ever before.

This is true around the world. The first European haiku anthology, edited by the Dutch Haiku Society, featuring over 150 poets, was published in 1990. And today the Balkans now host over a dozen haiku journals, ranging from a simple newsletter format to an annual, multilingual, 300 page anthology. Haiku is now written in over 20 languages, and there are Haiku Associations in more than a dozen countries, including the United States (which hosts several regional organizations as well), Canada, France, Italy, Sweden, Great Britain, Croatia, Serbia, Yugoslavia, Slovenia, Montenegro, Germany, the Netherlands, Belgium, and shortly in South Africa, China, Brazil and Spain.

This proliferation of haiku from so many cultures and so many languages has created a need to share this common form amongst the many, and so, at the turn of the millennium, the World Haiku Association has been created to establish international standards and a common language for haiku around the globe. This organization has adopted English as the international language of haiku, and seeks to elevate the dialogue about the form and practice of haiku beyond nationalistic and regional concerns to an international standard. At last, after centuries of insularity, haiku is finding a common meeting place where all who participate can find equal footing and communications with the many others from around the world who seek a similar dialogue.

Haiku, like any viable art, is shifting continuously, and what will emerge in the future of haiku can only be guessed at. But it is safe to say that it has become a viable, popular form of literature throughout the world, capable of being written, shared and appreciated by many cultures, in their different ways, in all parts of the world.

Jim Kacian is founder and president of The Haiku Foundation; owner of Red Moon Press; and editor-in-chief of Haiku in English: The First Hundred Years (W.W.Norton, 2013). He is the founder and is the general editor of Contemporary Haibun. He's also the founder of Contemporary Haibun Online and was its general editor until Bob Lucky stepped into the role.

A Draft of "A Haiku Primer" was first published in f/k/a: archives real opinions & real haiku,