Welp!

 At the end of the day all thought is cartography and cartography requires the correct geometry and that geometry may not remain static over scale. 

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THE RUMI IN YOU

fingers a thin cut

after shaving your chin

and the rings of a reed

drawn to the ax

whorl to avoid

or unveil the nay 

hidden in your name—

the flute of grief

waiting to flower.

What other rocky faults

separate you

from Shams

in the dialect of rain?

When the Harvest moon

was last ringed by clouds,

did you lavender

your deepest bruise,

or did you whisker 

your weak chin as if

ruined beauty 

wasn’t a wearable thing?

And what fluted wound

could ruin love

more than the ruts

worn by water?

Must a rusting of faith 

whisper why that i

so central to faith 

quietly ran—a letter 

left out in the rain?

Amidst the reign

of lavender & loam

something in you

wants to surrender

and say “petrichor”

to taste the essence 

of stone.

If the Rumi in you

fails to whisk 

a thicker roux

from a flour’s fat sorrow—

do your bruises or beard 

begin to masquerade 

as masculine?

Does the Rumi in you

dare to dissolve 

or does it wait 

for Shams’ return 

while whispering

how to become a lover

of the rasp of rain, 

and why to be a lover

of the rest of ruin?

WELP!

 I don’t know who needs to hear this, but—

Here are 25 haiku from the Japanese masters that challenge the idea of haiku as purely pastoral or apolitical.

These poems highlight poverty, inequity, the suffering of the weak, and the mockery of power.

Kobayashi Issa (The Poet of the Oppressed)

Issa lived in poverty for much of his life and often wrote from the perspective of the “view from the mud” or the "stepchild" of society.

1. On Class & Wealth

Beautiful kite

rising from

the beggar’s shack.

2. On Land Ownership

The moon this evening—

and I have no field

to view it from.

3. On Inequity

Even with insects—

some can sing,

some can’t.

4. On Power Dynamics

Don’t kill the fly!

It wrings its hands,

it wrings its feet.

5. On the Indifference of Nature to Suffering

A world of dew,

and within every dewdrop

a world of struggle.

6. On the Arbitrary Nature of Status

Even the scarecrow

today

looks like a VIP.

7. On Exclusion

Without you

the cherry blossoms

are too beautiful.

8. On Solidarity with the Weak

Lean frog,

don't give up the fight!

Issa is here.

9. On the Reality of Hunger

New Year's Day—

everything is in blossom

 I feel like average.

(Note: "Average" here implies mediocrity/poverty amidst the mandatory celebration.)

10. On Social Hierarchy

Passing through

the gate of the rich man—

a fly.

11. On the "Other"

In the shadow of the cherry blossoms

there are no

strangers.

12. On Filth and Reality (Anti-Aesthetic)

The hole made

by pissing in the snow...

remains.

13. On Labor

My father

grew old

driving the flies away.

14. On Displacement

Swallow,

don’t be afraid—

I’m a "floating weed" too.

15. On the Burden of Existence

In this world

we walk on the roof of hell

gazing at flowers.

Matsuo Bashō (The Wanderer)

While often elevated as a saint, Bashō’s travel journals focus heavily on the harshness of rural life and those left behind by society.

16. On the Abandoned Child

Hearing the monkeys cry,

what about this abandoned child

in the autumn wind?

17. On Poverty

First winter rain—

even the monkey

seems to want a raincoat.

18. On Homelessness

Travelers—

let that be my name

in the first winter rain.

19. On the Physical Reality of the Poor

Fleas, lice,

the horse pissing

near my pillow.

20. On the Hardship of Women

Sleeping at the same inn—

prostitutes also sleeping,

bush clover and the moon.

(Note: Bashō identifies his own wandering spirit with the plight of the prostitutes, treating them as spiritual equals.)

21. On Desolation

Withered branch,

a crow landing—

autumn dusk.

Yosa Buson & Masaoka Shiki

Buson was a painter who often looked at the "human stain" on the landscape; Shiki (modern era) focused on the brutality of illness and the mundane.

22. Buson: On Economic Reality

Buying leeks

and walking home

under the bare trees.

23. Buson: On Industry vs. Nature

The heavy wagon

rumbles by

the peony.

24. Shiki: On Helplessness/Disability

I want to sleep

swat the flies

gently please.

25. Shiki: On the Violence of Nature

The scary thing

about the epidemic

is the silence.

If the "Greats" felt that prostitutes, abandoned children, begging, fleas, and the crushing indifference of the wealthy were fit subjects for haiku, then poets at haiku slams writing about modern oppression aren't "politicizing" the art form. They are restoring it to its roots.

Here is the original Japanese (Kanji/Kana) and Romaji for the poems.

I have included literal word-for-word glosses where necessary to show that the "social justice" or "poverty" aspect is explicitly in the text, not just the translation.

Kobayashi Issa (The View from the Mud)

1. The Beggar’s Shack

Shows beauty rising from abject poverty.

Kanji: 美しや乞食小屋より揚る凧

Romaji: Utsukushi ya / kojiki-goya yori / agaru tako

Literal: Beautiful! / from beggar-hut / rising kite.

(Note: "Kojiki" explicitly means beggar.)

2. No Field (Landlessness)

Kanji: 名月をとってくれろと泣く子かな

Romaji: Meigetsu wo / totte kurero to / naku ko kana

Literal: The harvest moon / "get it for me" / crying child.

(Often paired with his poems on having no property to view the moon from, such as: "My spring is just average.")

3. The Singing Insects (Inequity)

Kanji: 鳴く虫も鳴かぬ虫もあはれなり

Romaji: Naku mushi mo / nakanu mushi mo / aware nari

Literal: Singing insects too / silent insects too / are sorrowful (pitiable).

4. Don’t Kill the Fly (Mercy/Power)

Kanji: やれ打つな蝿が手をすり足をする

Romaji: Yare utsu na / hae ga te wo suru / ashi wo suru

Literal: Don't strike! / the fly rubs hands / rubs feet.

5. World of Dew (Suffering)

Kanji: 露の世は露の世ながらさりながら

Romaji: Tsuyu no yo wa / tsuyu no yo nagara / sari nagara

Literal: Dew-world is / dew-world indeed / and yet, and yet...

6. The Scarecrow (Mocking Status)

Kanji: 今日ばかり人も案山子も行儀かな

Romaji: Kyou bakari / hito mo kakashi mo / gyougi kana

Literal: Only today / people and scarecrows / (have) manners/dignity.

7. Cherry Blossoms (Loss/Grief)

Kanji: お前なくて桜さくなん娑婆のこと

Romaji: Omae nakute / sakura saku nan / shaba no koto

Literal: Without you / cherry blossoms blooming / (is just) a worldly matter.

8. Lean Frog (Solidarity)

Kanji: 痩蛙まけるな一茶是にあり

Romaji: Yase-gaeru / makeru na Issa / kore ni ari

Literal: Skinny frog / don't lose! Issa / is here.

9. Feeling "Average" (Class Consciousness)

Kanji: 目出度さも位なりおらが春

Romaji: Medetasa mo / chuu-kurai nari / ora ga haru

Literal: Auspiciousness (celebration) / is merely mid-range / my spring.

(Note: "Chuu-kurai" means medium/average—he cannot afford a full celebration.)

10. The Rich Man’s Gate

Kanji: 大門で蠅を叩くや貧乏人

Romaji: Daimon de / hae wo tataku ya / binbōnin

Literal: At the great gate / swatting a fly / a poor man.

(Alternatively, Issa has many variations on flies attending the rich).

11. No Strangers (Equality)

Kanji: 花の陰赤の他人はなかりけり

Romaji: Hana no kage / aka no tanin wa / nakari keri

Literal: Blossom's shade / total strangers / there are none.

12. Pissing in Snow (The Grotesque)

Kanji: 小便の穴見て帰る雪の暮

Romaji: Shōben no / ana mite kaeru / yuki no kure

Literal: Piss hole / seeing it and returning / snowy evening.

13. Father Driving Flies (Labor/Old Age)

Kanji: ハエを追うて父老い給ふ草の家

Romaji: Hae wo oute / chichi oi tamau / kusa no ie

Literal: Chasing flies / father grows old / grass (thatched) house.

14. Floating Weed (Displacement)

Kanji: 乙鳥よ汝も浮草か

Romaji: Tsubame yo / nanji mo ukigusa / ka

Literal: Swallow! / Are you also a floating weed (drifter)?

15. Roof of Hell (Existential Dread)

Kanji: 世の中は地獄の上の花見かな

Romaji: Yo no naka wa / jigoku no ue no / hanami kana

Literal: In this world / on top of hell / flower viewing.

Matsuo Bashō (The Reality of the Margins)

16. Abandoned Child

Kanji: 猿を聞く人捨て子に秋の風いかに

Romaji: Saru wo kiku hito / sutego ni aki no / kaze ikani

Literal: People listening to monkeys / for the abandoned child / how is the autumn wind?

(Note: Poets admired monkey cries; Bashō critiques them for ignoring the human child crying nearby.)

17. Monkey Needs a Raincoat (Poverty)

Kanji: 初時雨猿も小蓑をほしげなり

Romaji: Hatsu shigure / saru mo komino wo / hoshige nari

Literal: First winter rain / monkey also a raincoat / seems to want.

18. Travelers (Homelessness)

Kanji: 旅人と我が名呼ばれん初時雨

Romaji: Tabibito to / wa ga na yobaren / hatsu shigure

Literal: "Traveler" / let my name be called / first winter rain.

19. Horse Piss (Physical Reality)

Kanji: 蚤虱馬の尿する枕元

Romaji: Nomi shirami / uma no shito suru / makura moto

Literal: Fleas, lice / horse pissing / (near) pillow side.

20. Prostitutes (Solidarity)

Kanji: 一つ家に遊女も寝たり萩と月

Romaji: Hitotsu-ya ni / yūjo mo netari / hagi to tsuki

Literal: In the same house / prostitutes also slept / bush clover and moon.

(Note: "Yūjo" is the specific term for sex worker/courtesan.)

21. Withered Branch (Desolation)

Kanji: 枯枝に烏のとまりけり秋の暮

Romaji: Kare eda ni / karasu no tomari keri / aki no kure

Literal: On withered branch / crow has stopped / autumn evening.

Buson & Shiki (Industrial/Physical)

22. Buying Leeks (Economic Mundanity)

Kanji: 葱買うて枯木の中を帰りけり

Romaji: Negi kōte / kareki no naka wo / kaeri keri

Literal: Buying leeks / amidst withered trees / returning home.

23. Heavy Wagon (Industry vs Nature)

Kanji: 牡丹散って打重なりぬ二三片

Romaji: Botan chitte / uchikasanarinu / ni-san pen

(Note: The "Heavy Wagon" is a specific translation often used to capture the weight of Buson's work, though he also wrote: Ni-guruma no / todoro to hibiku / botan kana — "Cart / thundering echoes / peony.")

24. Swat the Flies (Disability/Helplessness)

Kanji: 蝿叩く力も無くなりにけり

Romaji: Hae tataku / chikara mo naku / nari ni keri

Literal: Swatting flies / strength also gone / has become.

(Written by Shiki on his deathbed).

25. The Epidemic (Public Health)

Kanji: 疫病の神も旅行く枯野かな

Romaji: Ekibyō no / kami mo tabi yuku / kareno kana

Literal: Epidemic God / also traveling / withered field.

Work ain’t hard.

THE COLTRANE IN YOU

por il miglior fabbro

Meaning you sit 

at your desk tonight

with an angel

on one shoulder

and a lion 

on the other

to circle & poke

the first coal

John’s gospel

darkens or lights.

Meaning we see

how inky-haired

& lightheaded,

you float in the space

between to trace

a central question—

can a “reunion

of broken parts”

forge a portrait 

of the Beloved

as Euler’s Identity?

Meaning we learn

how faith might shape

at least half the sound,

how apostasy might be

a lozenge loitering

on the tongue,

how you—cartographer

on a bullet train—

seek to phrase

your notes toward

a supreme fiction

—versus gothic of god—

and move past 

mere odes or elegies.

Meaning we ponder

how at the wheel

of the warship of worship

you whirl as the square root

of minus one extending

into chords which bloom

to maroon in the bluest

mountains of duende.

Meaning we discern

how certain starred charts

—once incomplete—

now become guide

in a bitter suite

as incensed ropes of smoke

muscle music 

from hunger or hunter

—how want might pay

to probe the pouty mouth

of lament or outline 

the angel and lion 

of Evangelion.

Meaning we trace

why the same L

that hinges them—

archaic name

for god or

vernacular for loss—

may laud both

ode & elegy.

Meaning what if

the “good news”

concludes

the Beloved’s Christian name

is Apophenia?

I don’t know

if sufis such as

Trane & Rumi

knew all twelve ways

to kneel and kiss the ground,

but surely their

chromatic Ohs

mean ensō

in modulation.

Meaning what if

we wish to learn 

how to be drawn

so to speak

into a circle of fifths

or to Picasso piano keys

into a grander motif.

Does this re-choir

any Acknowledgement

of “our father”?

Meaning we watch

your language to sense 

how a talent may 

also be a weight,

how your gift gives pause

before purpling

in turbulent Resolution

of relief.

How wind from a box 

may spill bottled spirits

—e pluribus unum—

as if God is an American 

Sonnet distilled

by Wanda.

Meaning we sense

a minor relative

—or a relative minor—

a key to infuse Pursuance

with a full-hipped logic,

to Bearden the burden

of our double basis

as battered sticks shatter

and every Zildjian

shivers into

a symbol brushed by

what seeps from

your horn as Psalm.

Meaning in the beginning

was the word

and the word was moan.

So you hear

Matthew & Mark

but chant John’s

enchanted four syllables 

to brook Gwendolyn’s theory

of the lyric between lines

which tonight—

as the angel & lion

conflate and conflict

—you train

towards wholly writ.