Haiku

Haiku, as we know it, is that type of poem which is too short to be worthwhile. When I had to learn haiku, I thought I ought to teach my teacher about it, because she didn't seem to recognize that it was a joke. But I think that haiku is perfect for capturing the short moments of beauty that we experience from time to time. Occassionally, common things become intensely beautiful, and it often last for mere moments. It could be anything, too: the steps leading into your home; the monotous neighbourhood when seen while sitting on the curb in twilight; water dripping from a rock; melted snow streaming downhill; McDonalds when you're walking around Sydney late at night trying to get a sundae; the sky slowly darkening over the lake while your friends are on the shore and you're doing the dead man's float; looking at the glistening pavement from an apartment balcony just after the rain; any number of things. Often these moments of beauty are couched in other, more extended experiences. Sometimes they come out of nowhere. At any rate, the haiku seems the perfect form to capture these moments. Read, for instance, "In a Station of the Metro" by Ezra Pound.