HAY NAKU: A HISTORY!
The History of the Hay(na)ku
By Eileen Tabios
In
September 2000, I began a "Counting Journal" with the idea that
counting would “be just another mechanism for me to understand my days."
That journal lasted for only five months because I could maintain its
underlying obsession, which was to count everything, for only that long. It was
inspired, as this first entry explained on 9/20/2000, by:
Ianthe Brautigan's You
Can't Catch Death—A Daughter's Memoir
which noted the character Cameron in her father Richard Brautigan's The Hawkline Monster: "Cameron was
a counter. He vomited nineteen times to San Francisco. He liked to count
everything."
A month
later, I would write in my journal: "I am in library intending to finish
reading in one seating Richard Brautigan's An
Unfortunate Woman. From P. 77:
‘I've always had
at times a certain interest in counting. I don't know why this is. It seems to
come without a preconceived plan and then my counting goes away. Often without
me ever having noticed its departure.
‘I think I
counted the words on the early pages of this book because I wanted to have a
feeling of continuity, that I was actually doing something, though I don't know
exactly why counting words on a piece of paper served that purpose because I
was actually doing something.
‘Anyway, I
stopped counting words on page 22 on February 1, 1982, with a total of 1,885
words. I hope that is the correct sum. I can count, but I can't add which, in
itself, is sort of interesting.’"
Fast
forward to June 10, 2003 where I am writing in my first poetics blog,
"WINEPOETICS" at http://winepoetics.blogspot.com. On the blog, I'd been excerpting from the
Counting Journal. At this point, I
decide to write one last counting-related blog entry, which became:
But rather than spend more days having you witness me gazing
into that part of my navel where Brautigan's eyes are twinkling back, let me
write just one last Counting post. This one will feature snippets based on
which page the journal opens to when I drop it on the floor. The idea came to
me when .... I dropped the journal on the floor as I was polishing off my 2nd
glass of the 2001 Dutch Henry Los Carneros Chardonnay.
Drop Journal: Page opens onto 12/18/00.
Bush secured Electoral College majority—271 votes—to become the U.S.'
43rd President. It was announced that Hillary Clinton received an $8.0 mio.
advance for a memoir for her years in the White House. W/ Simon and Schuster.
So much $ for tsismis, whereas one can't even find $5,000 to publish a poetry
book!
Ugh. Close Journal. Drop Journal Again. Page opens onto
1/28/01: On plane returning to San Francisco, read Selected Letters of Jack Kerouac. P. 46—Kerouac says, "I think
American haikus should never have more than 3 words in a line—e.g.
Trees can't reach
for a glass
of water
I am inaugurating the Filipino Haiku [PinoyPoets: Attention!
I'll post if you send me some!]: 3 lines each having one, two, three words in
order—e.g.
Trees
can't reach
for a glass
*****
Enough
poets responded to my blog-post so that I was able to announce just two days
later:
PHILIPPINE INDEPENDENCE DAY ~~ PINOY
HAIKU
It seems
most apt to introduce the "Pinoy Haiku" on June 12, Philippine
Independence Day. This was the day in 1898 that General Emilio Aguinaldo
proclaimed Philippine independence from Spain.
But soon
afterwards, the United States—having just tasted, and found sweet, its entry as
a world power into the arena of global politics—chose not to recognize the
Philippines's successfully fought battle for self-determination. The U.S.
invaded the Philippines to turn it into a colony. It wasn't until 1946 that the
U.S. formally ended its colonial regime on a day coinciding with the U.S.
Independence Day of July 4. Consequently, the Philippines only began to
commemorate June 12 in the early 1960s when President Diosdado Macapagal
changed Philippine Independence Day from the 4th of July to June 12….
Filipino
poets responded to my call for the “Pinoy Haiku” with enthusiasm. Perhaps in
part because, as Michelle Bautista pointed out, the idea of one-two-three
"works with the Filipino nursery rhyme: isa, dalawa, tatlo, ang tatay mo'y kalbo (pronounce phonetically to
catch the rhythm)—which translates into English as "one two three, your
dad is bald."
Here are
some fresh examples of the Pinoy Haiku, beginning with one written by Barbara
Jane Reyes for Philippine Independence Day:
land
of the
mo(u)rning,
i toast.
Barbara
deftly conflates the reference of "land of the morning" from the
Philippine national anthem with the wine theme of this WINEPOETICS blog.
Relatedly, Patrick Rosal offers:
NYC Pinoy Blues or
The Ay Naku Haiku
God-
damn—same
shit/different
dog
Meanwhile,
Leny M. Strobel and Oscar Penaranda's contributions reflect both the events
over a century ago as well as the current times (the U.S. had just invaded
Iraq)—befitting their shared status as scholars/teachers as well as poets:
Freedom
Is Cheap
When You're
Bushed
--Leny M. Strobel
Power
Drippingly
exudes
And always
stains
--Oscar Penaranda
Here’s two
riffed off by Oliver de la Paz while he was doing laundry:
Keats
writes
darkly.
Birds trill
unseen.
Watches
around
wrists
make teeth
marks.
In these
works, what's evident to me is that the charge associated with the haiku
remains in the Pinoy form with the type of paradox that one might find in the
Filipino bagoong—a pungent fish sauce
enjoyed by Filipinos but, ahem, misunderstood by non-Filipinos. Thus, does
Catalina Cariaga also offer:
onion
just eaten;
smell my
breath
*****
Most of the
Pinoy "haiku" (scare quotes deliberate) came from writers who
belonged to Flips, a listserve of either Filipino writers or anyone interested
in Filipino Literature that was co-founded by poets Nick Carbo and Vince
Gotera. While my compadres and comadres happily sent me what Vince called these
"Stairstep Tercets," my project also ended up eliciting a discussion
on the implications of Naming—and how
I was approaching it by using the phrase "Pinoy Haiku." Vince asked:
Appropriating the "haiku" name has all sorts of
prosodic and postcolonial problems (by which I mean the WWII
"colonizing" of the Philippines by Japan, among other things). Am I
being overly serious here? When you say Kerouac refers to "American
haiku" not having more than three words per line, I think he might have
been reacting to Allen Ginsberg's "American sentence" which has 17
syllables per line. I guess my concern about calling it a "Pinoy
haiku" is that readers could say “Hey, Pinoys can't even get the haiku
right!" They won't always have the Kerouac quote to guide them. Besides,
why must we always be doing things in reaction to the term
"American"? An interesting parallel poetic-form-naming might be
Baraka's "low coup" form (the diametrical opposite of "high
coup" / haiku). Maybe the Pinoy version could be the "hay
(na)ku"?
"Hay
naku" is a common Filipino expression covering a variety of contexts—like
the word "Oh."
Another
poet had suggested that I also rename the project because the traditional haiku
form should be respected. Well, yes and no. As I told that poet—I also think
that, in Poetry, rules are sometimes made to be broken.
And, I
initially wasn't moved either by Vince's notion as regards Japan
"colonizing" the Philippines during WWII. If anything, I thought that
were I to move down that line of thinking (which I hadn't been), I didn't mind
subverting the Japanese haiku form specifically because I thought of it as
*talking back* against Japanese imperialism. But, on closer consideration, I
realized that the perspective could work both ways...and that using the
"haiku" reference also could imply a continuation of "colonial
mentality."
Catalina
"Catie" Cariaga also appreciated Vince's comments:
Hey Vince, I like "hay(na)ku." That's the spirit!
Like halo-halo. There's a chapter in Vicente Rafael's Contracting Colonializm about that guy Pin Pin who translated the
Spanish grammar book into the Filipino vernacular—which ended taking all types
of forms, songs, explanations and translations—perhaps to SUBVERT the very
project he was assigned to "translate." I read Rafael's comments very
seriously. Pin Pin used combinations of long languid fluid lines and short
syllabic bursts. We have those kinds of macro and micro-rhythms in our
F(P)ilipino American repertoire. Like halo-halo.
Vicente's
observations, indeed, should be read by many. But, with all due respect to
Vicente, I also found Catie's reply most persuasive due to the reference to
halo-halo: an incredibly yummy-licious Filipino dessert of shaved ice, coconut
shavings, bits of fruit jello and tropical fruits like jackfruit, banana,
.....I'ma getting hungry....
Anyway, I
bowed to Vince's wisdom (he is, after all, older than I am; wink here at Vince)
and renamed the form "HAY(NA)KU."
*****
Since the
birth of hay(na)ku, there has been a hay(na)ku contest judged by Barbara Jane
Reyes which was quite popular in the internet's poetry blogland; the hay(na)ku
form was taught by Junichi P. Semitsu, then Director of “June Jordan’s Poetry
for the People" program at the African American Studies Department at U.C.
Berkeley; and many other poets—non-Filipino as well as Filipino—have picked up
the form to write it as I originally conceived as well as to offer
variations.
Maya Mason
Fink, the 11-year-old daughter of poet Thomas Fink, concocted a variation
whereby the first line has one word of one letter,
the second line two words of two letters each, the third line three words of
three letters each, and so on—as far as the poet wishes to take it. “The Mayan Hay(na)ku” points
to one of the hay(na)ku’s possibilities as an attractive tool for introducing
poems to youngsters.
Kari Kokko introduced a “moving
hay(na)ku” via the internet whereby, through the wonders of HTML, the lines
move across the screen. Thomas Fink, a
painter as well as a poet, also completed a painting series that presents his
visual manifestation of the hay(na)ku. Other hay(na)ku variations include the “Ducktail Hay(na)ku”
whose ducktail references a hairstyle that shows a thin strand of hair trailing
down from an otherwise shortly-cropped hair cut; this version features the
three-line stanza, followed by another one-line stanza of any length. Another variation is the “Reverse Hay(na)ku”
whereby the numbering of words per line is 3, 2 and 1, respectively, versus 1,
2 and 3. One of the most effective variations has been the
hay(na)ku sequence, as epitomized in the works of Kirsten Kaschock, Sheila
Murphy, harry k.stammer, Tom Beckett, Ernesto Priego and many other poets. Some
of these sequences are included in this anthology. Others, as the hay(na)ku continues
to develop and spread as a poetic form, have been written since submissions and
considerations closed, and have appeared elsewhere. At the time of
writing this essay, Scott Glassman is introducing the “abecedarian hay(na)ku”
sequence whereby each word begins with each succeeding letter of the English
alphabet.
As one can
see by the history of the hay(na)ku, it is a community-based poetic form which
fits my own thoughts on the poem as a space for engagement. "Community" is a word laden with
much baggage -- both good and bad. I, too, have a conflicted reaction to the
word. But I have to say that some of my favorite poetic projects are those
where I consciously am building towards a community -- through both poetic form
and content. Why? Because I think a poem doesn't fully mature without a
particular community called reader(s).
Poetry is (inherently) social.
*****
Since the
initial response by Filipino poets to the hay(na)ku, many—if not most—hay(na)ku
have been written by non-Filipinos. This
is certainly a fine result since Poetry is not (or need not be)
ethnic-specific. But I’m also glad that
non-Filipinos have taken up this form because I consider the hay(na)ku—as I’ve
stated on its official “Hay(na)ku Blog” to be both a Filipino as well as Diasporic
Poetic.
In the diaspora, the Filipino meets many influences and what would be the
point of denying such? Given that the
diaspora has existed throughout Filipino history, to call something “Filipino,”
in my view, is not the same as hearkening back only to so-called “indigenous”
Filipino traits. I agree with Filipino
poet Eric Gamalinda when he observes, “The history of the Philippines is the
history of the world.”
***
Ironically,
I actually feel myself mostly mediocre at the hay(na)ku. I’ve written just a few as of the time of
preparing this anthology, such as this while potty-training my puppy Achilles:
HERE WE GO AGAIN
”by” Achilles
"Go
Potty!"
Mama
exhorts.
Sigh. Poop.
But I also
think it’s appropriate that I, presumably the hay(na)ku’s “inventor,” may be
mediocre at this form. I think this
logical because I’ve long felt that Poetry ultimately transcends the poet’s
autobiography. Even when the narrative
offers up elements of my own life, I consider the poem a space of engagement
with others, with the results nothing I can either predict or control. In this sense, the hay(na)ku very much
retains my person-hood, even as its outcomes are based on others.
For the
hay(na)ku, as with any of my poems, all I can do is offer my hand and hope that
someone ultimately will grasp it. For
the hay(na)ku, I feel as if the entire universe wreathed itself about that
writing hand. Thank you, All.
July 31, 2005
St. Helena, California
July 31, 2005
St. Helena, California
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