Poetry Magazines - The best collection of poetry magazines online - Simon Armitage

Pilgrim Foxes, Haiku & Haiku Prose, Ken Jones, James Norton & Sean O’Connor. 82 pages published by Pilgrim Press, Troed Rhiw Sebon, Cwmrheidol, Aberystwyth, 5Y23 3NB Wales ISBN 0-9539901-0-9 £5.50

An attractive book to unwrap with an intriguing blurb describing three ‘foxy pilgrims’ on a spiritual quest, encapsulated in a charming photograph of them together. However, once inside the rather jovial first impression wears off which it should if we are to engage with these three pilgrims. Each poet’s contribution to the volume could almost be a separate book if it wasn’t for the earnest search they have in common in the form of haibun, haiku sequence (most of them titled) and the occasional loose collection of haiku.

Ken Jones is first and probably the most elusive to get to know of the three. His prose is widely-travelled and factually informative, his haiku reflect solitude and separation. His outings have a strong sense of purpose though there are some which occur in his own private space and concern time. James Norton reinforces the contemplative tone in haiku, utilising, on occasion, a more consciously spiritual vocabulary and he also writes haibun on themes closer to home - Dublin. Sean O’Connor is the youngest and writes haiku directly related to those things which have shaped his life - travel and his work (although the paraphernalia of Zen does find its way in here as well), finishing the volume with his single moving haibun concerning the death of a close friend.

I cannot do justice to the distinct world each poet expresses except to say that this is the chief pleasure of the book and its main strength - to read and compare their individual ‘pilgrimages’. One way it comes across is in a strong sense of their separate vulnerability - for example, Ken Jones’ acute awareness of solitariness in his haiku sequence ‘For company an empty chair’, James Norton’s tentative attempts at human contact in the haibun ‘Between Bridges’ and the element of shock in Sean O’Connor’s experiences (in haiku form) as a psychiatric nurse.

However, I came to the book as a sceptic concerning haibun and remain one - a weakness of the book is the massively confident tone of the introduction by George Marsh, who tells us of the ‘immense potential’ of this form. There is no doubt that much of the charm and depth of the volume comes from its prose and haiku but not working in unison to produce the legendary ‘third meaning’ - the offsetting of three floating lines against the rock-like prose never seems to happen in any clear, universally acceptable form. It’s more like haiku pebbles being dragged by the powerful prose-current. Occasionally you do hit upon a pleasantly contrasting relationship between haiku and prose but it is occasional - there is no definite, committed relationship which makes it subtly transparent to all. George Marsh himself admits that the form is hardly ever used in Japan and I’ve only ever read one by Bashō outside of his travel journals (arguably not haibun). Either the prose is rich in poetry itself or it is just too dense, or the haiku is used as a springboard to open the prose or clang it shut. This relationship is not consistent enough to appear as the astounding breakthrough suggested in the introduction and I say this without wanting to detract from the richness of what both prose and haiku contain separately. What one takes away is a merging of a strong poetic sentiment from both forms which overpowers the niceties of contrasted tone between them.

I found the haiku sequences from each poet the most enjoyable as I had the wide open proseless spaces to imagine what lay between them and if I didn’t get the references - well, that was my loss, you can keep your extended footnotes (another reason for the success of haibun).

I’m grateful to Jim Norton for not setting up this particularly memorable haiku in prose, reminding us that the well-written, well-caught image which reflects a feeling leaves everything else behind:-

Notice to Quit:
the old musician’s violin
is snug in its case