about the site

the author

titles

first lines

essays

translations

acknowledgments

abraxas press

Note on Black Sun

Seven verses composed of more or less fortuitously connected haikus written at different times.  I’m not a devotee of the haiku.  They have my felicitations, those so enamoured of the calligraphic image-words of the Japanese ‘amusement verse’ as to get a fix by arranging, doubtless with a biro, 17 English syllables: I’m glad they’ve no deeper worries.  I set about showing that in English a haiku should be nothing less than a stanza in a longer poem.  All attempts at concise, enigmatic shocks are intentional, though the continuity is not so hot.  1-3: Near death: a crabby old obsessive gives advice (about vinegar etc).  4: A deserted cabin: perhaps where he lived once.  5-6: Young families; holidays and homework.  7: Birth.  The ‘new hospital child’ was a grand-nephew.  Why a black sun?  The piece is like a photographic negative, writing life backwards.  Try reading the stanzas in reverse order.

Alan Marshfield

top of page                                                                        Black Sun