hosts: Vidya Shankar & Shalini Pattabiraman
A Thursday Feature.
poet of the month: Matthew Caretti
26 December 2024
Matthew Caretti
Matthew has been influenced in equal parts by his study of German language and literature, by the approach of the Beat writers, by his travels and his Zen monastic training. After leaving the Seo-un Hermitage, Matthew engaged in a pilgrimage through South Asia before returning to Africa, where he had lived and worked as a Peace Corps Volunteer. He served as Principal at Amitofo Care Centre, an orphanage and school for five hundred children in Malawi, and as director of the same NGO’s centre in Lesotho. Matthew now teaches English and leads a simple life in Pago Pago, American Samoa. His collections include Harvesting Stones (2017, winner of the Snapshot Press eChapbook Award), Africa, Buddha (2022, Red Moon Press) and Ukulele Drift: Poems from a Small Island (2023, Red Moon Press). His prose and poems appear regularly in Frogpond, Modern Haiku, contemporary haibun online, Hedgerow, Cattails, Tiny Moments and several other journals. He is the recipient of a 2024 Touchstone Award for his haibun ‘Deep Water Port’.
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We wrap up this month with two more of Matthew's exquisite haibun.
Talitiga
Not quite sea sick
but knowing what might come
I spend the hours between land
in a hard bunk quiet.
hitching a ride
Save for the screws
that remind with their thrum
of the wavelengths in between
placid old ports.
on the fuel ship
Its name implies
a bold response to misfortune
to knowing the rest of the world
but abiding here.
porthole moon
cho, December 2024
Malawi Orphanage
The children bow and chant and exercise and breakfast. Then the day. The weekend. Open. Free. The way of their ancestors.
chiChewa
the warmth of
morning maize
The quiet day into a quiet night. An occasional burst of song from the nearby village. From the road to Zomba.
night bus
how speed
bends sound
I wake before the rest. Stretch. Feel the Sunday world come to life.
vipassana
birdsong enters
the side doors
Twilight lengthens. No electricity to speed it along. The deep of the dry season. Of rivers reduced to a trickle.
load sharing
candle stubs prop up
each new flame
Light comes of its own accord. No switch to turn. Only to watch from the porch. To know this moment. This little chore.
darning socks
the sudden whole
of the sun
NOTES:
“ChiChewa” is the official language of Malawi.
“Vipassana” is the Pali term for insight meditation.
“Load sharing” is the term used to describe the process of rolling blackouts in Malawi.
Modern Haiku 49.1, Winter-Spring 2018
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VS: We notice some recurrent themes in your haibun, like the references to the sea and everything about it which, I assume, is the influence of your geographical and cultural background. What advice would you give to someone whose work is rooted in their culture yet want to give it that universal appeal?
MC: The sea has certainly become a motif in my poems since I moved to a seaside shack in American Samoa in 2021. Likewise, when I’d just come out of the monastery, my African work explored themes like the transient nature of things and altruism. But I eventually returned to teaching in Malaysia and then came the pandemic, so pieces became grounded in that culture, literature and some deep introspection born of isolation. Likewise, when I return home to Pennsylvania, I am seeing a place at once with new eyes and caught up in old memories. All that is to note that geography and the culture(s) associated with it have had and continue to have a profound effect on my work, yet at the heart of it all, I hope, is the human condition. Our yearning for love and to be loved, for kindness, for understanding and, ultimately, to share and to learn. To find our collective way to a life well lived.
VS: About your haibun we have featured all through this month, what would you want us, at THG, to take away from them?
MC: Each reader will take something different—shreds of a rainbow among old lava peaks, something to ponder about man’s connection to nature, glimpses of island love and the joys of living here, a bit of the melancholy associated with loss and, in the end, how we might persevere. That’s the beauty of this form. There is space enough for the reader in each piece. Gates will appear. Invitations. The decision then is whether and how to enter.
Prompt for members:
"Gates will appear. Invitations. The decision then is whether and how to enter."
What does this statement mean to you especially as we move into the new year a week from now? Retrospection? Prediction? A new year resolution? Let's read through Matthew's answer to the final question once again for inspiration.
Haibun outside this prompt can also be posted!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Important: Since we're swamped with submissions, and our editors are only human, mistakes can happen. Please, please, remember to put your name, followed by your country, below each poem, even after revisions. It helps our editors; they won't have to type it in, saving them from potential typos. Thanks a ton!
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PLEASE NOTE:
1. Only two haibun per poet per prompt. Please put your name and country of residence under your poem, it makes the editors' work easier. Thanks.
2. Share your best-polished pieces.
3. Please do not post something in a hurry or something you have just written.
Let it simmer for a while.
4. When poets give suggestions and if you agree to them - post your final edited version on top of your original version.
5. Don't forget to give feedback on others' poems.
We are delighted to open the comment thread for you to share your unpublished haibun (within 300 words) to be considered for inclusion in the haikuKATHA monthly journal.
#1 gembun
Builders have started to take their land...
only
in our throats now
blue swallows
susan burch, USA
comments welcome
#2, 31/12
Can I lift the weight of falsehood?
heads or tails
the coin twists and turns
to fall in the well
Lakshmi Iyer, India
Feedback welcome
#2
Beyond the window
It's been four days since I've seen sunlight. In French, we call these thick foggy skies "la soupe de pois." Pea soup. I tend to call it "la soupe de poisse," bad luck soup. Across the narrow street from my first floor windows, I watch people hustle and bustle in either direction, choosing the appropriate downhill path from either end of the street to go about their daily activities. The French also have a wonderful snarky term qualifying big city life: "métro, boulot, dodo." Subway, work, sleep. I used to live in a place where I had so much visibility from my top floor balconies that I could see further that I could imagine walking. My…
Post #2
31.12.24
Taking a cue from Kala’s terbalik:
runway sky
a star from your terrace
shines upon me
the things I left unsaid
Mona Bedi
India
Feedback appreciated:)
edited:
Wilber, Nebraska
13 October 1873
“…Mrs. Morey saw the fire coming from the south some five or six miles distant. Mounting a horse, she rode with all speed to the schoolhouse where her three children, two nieces, a nephew and some grandchildren were attending school. Over the objections of the teacher she attempted to lead them to safety but within a mile the fire overtook them. A neighbor, Silas Billis, heard the children’s screams through the smoke. When he got to them eight were already dead. Mrs. Morey and two of the boys were still alive, clothing burned off, flesh sloughing from their frames. He took loaded them onto his wagon, drove to his home and sent for Dr.…