Editor's Comments
Titles in a haibun can add so much to the richness of the piece in question. In this fine example the title takes a song from the Beatles White Album and sets the tone for the entire piece. The first line of the chorus of the song in question is: “Ob-la-di, ob-la-da life goes on brah”. That song was written by Paul McCartney, and the other Beatles hated it, and John Lennon despised it. Now comes this young man of eighteen, who sees himself as Lennon, who takes his own life, valuing it less than his ‘brah’ did. Wow, that just sent me into a tailspin. So many implications here if you have the time, or take the time. As a reader you have your work cut out for you!
Then we reach a haiku that caps the entire effort. The advent is that time of anticipation of the birth of a savior, yet prior to the birth that holds the keys to the resurrection, a rope swings and creates the moving shadows that mirror the chiaroscuro images of the artist, who has taken his own life. Indeed, this story creaks, like the beam used to end his life, through the reader as well, twisting and turning you as you connect with the story being told. If you have ever lost someone to suicide you can’t help but be taken by the skillful detail in this fine and deeply sensitive haibun.
—UHTS Haibun Editor Mike Rehling, USA
enso gap . . .
a spark leaps out of
the unseen
mating dance —
birds of paradise
square off
spider thread . . .
the shrinking tightrope
from i to thou
unrequited love —
the triangulations
of the possible
rumbling wind —
a didgeridoo wakens
to my spirit
first light —
heaven opens to me
hue by hue
night sky —
Lucy glows in the soles
of her shoes
winter gloom . . .
a bird folds into
its shadows
humid night —
an ordinary life
deeply livid
logic gate —
a cat smiles hellbent
with the moon
dawn parade —
a combed poet crows
his glory
doctored
the alley cat eyeing
who's on first
private concerns -
I yield to general
disaster
setting sun . . .
the lengths my shadow
will grow to
in the folds
of a road map . . .
coupling flies
laid bare
a chthonic god
wastes away
a god jumps into its conclusion
slimy pool
the reflection of me
in its source