I’m not sure about this one so you be the judge. Here’s a sample from Raw Nervz by Ken J. Boivin (“My Lai murder/Thirty year denial/ War Crime free”) The thing about haikus is they’re so short that if you don’t get a good one, you feel tricked. Somewhere between a knock-knock joke and a warm up to a soliloquy, the haiku can appear to us as an enigmatic form of lexical expression. Or it’s outright worthy of dismissal. What is a haiku anyway? What makes a good haiku? Or a haiku good? Why are they here? In numbers? Do they compliment one another? Is there a way to make them less obtuse? Fortunately not all of this edition of Raw Nervz is devoted to this sparse-syllabled medium. William Ramsey has an untitled piece about a bowling alley, childhood bully that he hated, and a wife who works with quadriplegics. (“floating there in the pickle jar my writing hand will survive me, and maybe write of joy”) If you like Haikus then Raw Nervz is your baby. But if you have better things to do than accept (“At our new pond/a frog/ goes plop!”) as a progressive form of literary accomplishments then I suggest you take in a play or a film. The redundant short-lived pieces would be just as annoying via spoken word. If I came home and found these on my answering machine, I don’t know if I’d save the message. (NGM)
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