Boston Haikai 10

An ancient dancer
and a dance she's known since youth:
falling maple leaves.

3 Nov 2015 -- Underneath a maple tree

I'm serious, I swear.

I just posted two poems about farts and ancestors. They are actually the same poem, I am just still trying to decide which version is better.

But I am very serious about these fart poems! They have great meaning to me, and I have just enough pride to feel compelled to explain.

Over the past few years I have felt a growing measure of the spirit of Elijah, who is meant to "turn the heart of the fathers to the children, and the heart of the children to their fathers." In suppose it is expected that, as a new father, I feel my heart turn to the children. But I have also found myself becoming fascinated with all the billions of people who lived before me.

I think living abroad has taught me something of how different people from a foreign country can be. Humor is different, relationships are different, values are different. I made some wonderful friends in India, but it took time and effort to understand each other and get used to the differences. For example, Indians don't think my puns are very funny, and they would probably be appalled by how infrequently I hug my mother.

But living and serving in India also taught me that there is always common ground. People like to sing, people like to dance, people tell jokes, people make friends. And just to be fair, people gossip, people make enemies, people try to find happiness but screw it all up and can't tell how. 

When Emily and I were dating we went to a screening of  Werner Herzog's documentary about the Chauvet cave that holds the oldest-known cave paintings in the world. It has stuck with me partly because Werner Herzog has a funny voice, but also because the film captured so intensely the eerie feeling of familiarity the paintings evoke. The paintings are over 20,000 years old -- more foreign than anything I can imagine -- and yet I feel like I understand them perfectly. I instantly recognize the animals, and would draw them almost exactly the same way. I recognize the awe of nature and the desire to record it. I recognize the desire to make marks on rock. At least I think I do.

The Kendall square T stop houses one of my favorite Boston sights. On the inbound side of the tracks an old hole has been covered up with a piece of plywood, which in turn has been covered in pen and marker graffiti. I love the graffiti because it is so mundane. There are lovers' names, little jokes, some guy writing his stupid nickname for himself everywhere, someone claiming to be Obama, complaints about Asians at MIT, and some Korean and Arabic phrases I can't read. I have barely any idea what anything means even when I can read it. It's the collected half-thoughts of a people scrawled quickly but permanently on a wall.

But what I really love about the Kendall square graffiti board is how similar it is to ancient Roman graffiti. If you were to take that Pompeii graffiti and change the names, make the translation a bit more crass, and remove some references to Greek gods it would be indistinguishable from a modern toilet stall or Facebook wall. It's all about girlfriends, grudges, and simply making markings on things.

So what would I say to my (great)^n grandfather? Even if we could speak the same language we would have different cultures, different ideas about friendship, different ideas about humor, love, and family. And yet, I'm pretty sure we'd both laugh at a good fart joke.

Boston Haikai 9

Older than headstones,
What ties my fathers to me?
A fart joke, well-told.

6 Sep 2015 -- Who cares where? It's funny there too.

The Visitation

My great great great
great great et cetera
grandfather visited me last night.

But I don't know Old German
and he doesn't speak English
so we didn't have much to say

The Modern German word
Might have been "bittersüß"
Until we started farting.

Boston Haikai -1

Two bars of bath soap, 
one very big and one small ---
My roommate won't mind

2011-2012 -- The shower

Thanks to Justin for remembering this and not minding.

Boston Haikai 8

A jug of water
Carried slowly to not spill --
This tree is so big!

I am not mad that
White clouds block infinity --
Very far is fine.

 29 Aug 2015 -- The back yard and the field

Inspired by Chesterton 

Boston Haikai 7

Please excuse my son.
We're sorry to interrupt
Mister Pigeon's work.

28 Aug 2015 -- The sidewalk

Boston Haikai 6

Satan, like a cat,
Spilled my sugar on the floor.
Here's God with the broom!

18 Jul 2015 -- The closet

Boston Haikai 5

Clouds on vacation.
Oceans, cities, and now me --
short, sweating native.

8 Jul 2015 -- The playground

Boston Haikai 4

"Heave ho!" "Look lively!"
Lifting dirt, spreading gravel,
Adjusting diapers.

24 Jun 2015 -- The playground

Boston Haikai 3

"Clear blue sky," thinks grass
"And I am Nature's fine work."
Men with rakes wipe sweat.

24 Jun 2015 -- The playground

Boston Haikai 2

A glass of water,
A certain lightness of soul --
Ah, student loan debt!

24 Apr 2015 -- The kitchen

Boston Haikai 1

Winter clouds lifting
Melting snow offers new sights ---

A bottle of pee.

 25 Mar 2015 -- The bus