New to Haiku: Advice for Beginners–petro c. k.

Happy New Year! For 2024, my plan is to host New to Haiku twice monthly. If you have an idea for an essay or an exploration of a haiku topic that would be suitable for beginners, let me know and I’ll see what I can do. You can reach me at jublke (at) gmail [dot] com. I’m also open to (and would very much appreciate!) guest posts, but please note that this is a non-paying venue and I can’t guarantee that your work will find a home here. You can look at previously covered New to Haiku essay topics under Haiku Basics. Pretty much anything that might impact a beginning haiku poet is fair game. My goal is to be inclusive and welcoming here—a haiku on-ramp, so to speak. Thanks for joining me and let’s have a great year! —Julie K.

Today, we welcome petro c. k. to New to Haiku. Founding editor of the online journal dadakuku, petro c. k. had his first book of experimental haiku, Waiting for an Oracle: Algorithmic Haiku, published in 2024 (Nun Prophet Press). Last year, he also won the H. Gene Murtha Memorial Senryu Contest and earned an Honorable Mention in Haiku Northwest’s Porad Award. Thanks for sharing your haiku journey with us, petro c. k.!

In Advice for Beginners posts, we ask established haiku poets to share a bit about themselves so that you can meet them and learn more about their writing journeys. We, too, wanted to learn what advice they would give to beginning haiku poets. You can read posts from previous Advice for Beginners interviewees here.

Welcome to New to Haiku, petro c. k.! How did you come to learn about haiku?

Like a lot of people in the Western world, I first learned about haiku in elementary school English class, which taught the classic misinterpretation of haiku comprising of 5-7-5 syllables and not much else. For years after, such dabbling that I did in that form was studiously adhered to with that structure.

I had been on Twitter years ago and hobbied around with VSS (very short stories) and micropoetry (including what I understood to be haiku), when Twitter-based writing was first becoming a thing way back then, but after a couple of years I set it aside and let it all lapse.

Decades later, only just a couple of years ago, I was drawn again to the possibilities of writing, this time with more focus, when the pressures of life didn’t permit me to pursue the more time-intensive creative activities I had been involved in, such as drawing, painting, and performing/recording experimental music.

I rejoined Twitter to connect with other writers and learned very quickly about the aspects, principles, and history of haiku that were never taught in school. And thanks to being connected with various folks who study haiku and its history and who share their findings, I’m still learning along the way. Like life itself, haiku is a journey of continuous learning.

Do you have a haiku mentor? What advice did they give you? Did someone else’s haiku greatly influence your own?

Since connecting with the greater haiku community online, I would say that everyone who shares their work is a mentor to me. It’s been inspirational to me to read everyone’s work and study them to see what it is that makes a verse great. There’s simply too many to name whose work I admired and gravitated towards, and it feels like a slight for not mentioning everyone, but as examples a couple of people who struck me early on were John Hawkhead and Keith Evetts; their work went beyond the traditional style of haiku that I came across most often online back then, with a deftness of phrasing and the occasional infusion of pathos and darkness as well as humor. It is through their work, among many others, that I learned about senryu, which is what I now tend to prefer to read and write.

I would add that Jerome Berglund and Pippa Phillips were a couple of contemporaries of mine who early on were very encouraging and helpful; Pippa answered questions I had and inspired me to try out other techniques and themes, and Jerome has been an enthusiastic cheerleader of my work and a collaborator in linked verse since the very beginning. He has been a champion of the form by encouraging people to try out aspects of historical Japanese haiku that have been rarely employed in English language haiku.

Where do you most often write? Do you have a writing process?

I write pretty much anywhere and everywhere. One reason I got into writing, and writing short-form poetry specifically, is that I can do it at any time, especially in the in-between moments of life.

I’ve taken to writing haiku as a form of self-defense, a defense of my creative time and process against increasing existential pressures. For decades I’ve been involved in many disciplines of visual and sonic art, and they all required a certain degree of preparation, both mentally and physically, with getting gear and materials out, settling into the right state of mind to be open to possibilities, working out the ideas, and when it’s time to break away from it all, putting everything away. It’s all a more involved process than what I seem to have time and energy for lately, as I still have a full-time job to pay the bills and home projects that are never-ending, and social engagements pull me out from my increasing tendency to be a recluse.

So as a way to still entertain my creative urges I have taken up writing, as I can mull and process thoughts in my head and write them down at any time without having to make a big production out of it. I write on my work commute, on my lunch breaks, in between tasks, while cooking, walking around, in a bar waiting for a band to play, doing yard work—anytime there’s a lull or inspiration hits me, no matter where I am, I can dip into the void and jot down ideas on my phone and throughout the day I roll them around in my head and revise and rewrite until I feel I have something.

So my process is very scattershot and all over the place, and I have to sieve through all this chaos and pull things together to form cohesive ideas. It’s not elegant, but it seems to work for me.

How do you approach reading haiku?

When I get a print collection, journal, or anthology, I often find myself opening the pages at random and hopping around, flipping back and forth, letting chance guide my reading. By doing that I tend to focus on each verse a bit more, instead of blowing by them page after page when reading verses in the expected order. But then I do read page by page when I have a chance to settle in and have more time to absorb everything more thoroughly.

For those just starting out, what advice would you give?

Don’t feel like you have to know everything at once. Haiku, like life, is best approached with an attitude of being open to learning continually; there’s always more to learn, so just set your own pace. Even the haiku “elders” will readily admit they don’t know everything and that there’s always room to learn more. Keep reading, especially journals and anthologies, so you get exposed to a wide range of voices and approaches to learn from. Read with a critical eye and figure out what it is about each verse that works.

Don’t be afraid to write badly, it’s okay. It’s part of the process. We all have a slushpile of verses that are unpublished for good reason. 😀 Often writer’s block happens when we put too much pressure on ourselves to write “well”–so entertain every inspiration and allow yourself to write down what comes out and not restrict the flow. It’s all an exercise to keep your mind active and engaged with what’s around you; haiku is not an endpoint or a goal, it’s a travelogue of human experience.

Don’t be afraid to experiment. You’ll quickly encounter a certain orthodoxy that’s touted and maintained by some people, but what is considered “modern” and unorthodox haiku (and thus by some not considered “real” haiku) has been around arguably for at least a hundred years–haiku didn’t operate in a vacuum; when many western art and literary forms turned into what was then considered a “modern” direction, they cross-pollinated with haiku at the same time. Haiku and Surrealism were one notable example, the juxtaposition elements of haiku influenced the Surrealists, and subsequently the Surrealists influenced many Japanese haiku poets to go even bolder with their imagery. So take a look around at your other influences and see how that can be integrated with your own haiku writing.

Join a haiku workshop group. Ask if anyone is in one. If none are to be found, you can start one and invite people. Join a haiku membership group in your country/region. For instance, in the US, there are many regional groups operating under the Haiku Society of America umbrella, with many regular opportunities to meet in-person and online, to share and workshop haiku, and to meet people you may have only known through social media. You don’t even have to be in the same region to attend their online meetings (in the Washington State groups, I’ve seen people pop up from other states like California and other countries like Japan). Just sign up to be on their mailing lists and you’ll get info on their meetings and workshops. One tip about workshopping: it’s less about polishing your specific verse, and more about learning how to talk about and explain the craft with other writers, and to analyze what makes a verse work well, so you’ll be a better writer for when the next inspiration hits. If a workshop yields a better workshopped verse for you, that’s just icing on the cake.

Try to write a verse every day. Not only will you get to practice the craft of writing but it’ll train you to observe more. If there are periods where you are experiencing writer’s block, it’s okay. We all go through it. Just focus instead on building up life experiences and take in each moment to build up a storehouse of potential inspiration. You’ll never know the what or when, but just let the ebb and flow happen like the tides.

If you plan on submitting regularly to journals to get published, the best time to get organized is yesterday. The earlier you can figure out a system that works for you to keep track of your submissions, the better off you’ll be later on when you have dozens or hundreds of verses to juggle. If you primarily use a laptop/desktop computer, you can build up a spreadsheet, each verse getting a row, and columns for each journal you submit to, filling in fields with dates of submission, acceptance or rejection. If you are more on your phone, like I am, you can use cloud-based documents/folders and copy/transfer verses from one document to another, and move documents from folder to folder. It may not be as elegant as a spreadsheet, but what you lose in refinement you gain in portability. Either way, I recommend using cloud-based storage–crashed drives and bricked phones are always an unexpected possibility and losing a built-up storehouse of work would be quite a distressing setback. If you are involved in a bigger project like compiling a book, save and back-up often. Crashes, as they do, tend to happen when your guard is down. In case you’re more tactile, I’ve seen one poet use index cards for each verse and mark submission notes on them, with each one filed away in different sections of a shoebox depending on its status.

Also, if you’re submitting to get published, don’t get discouraged by rejections. Haiku is a very subjective form–what gets accepted by one editor will get rejected by another. I’ve had many verses that were passed up by a half-dozen places or so before finally finding a home. Persistence and organization will be your friend. Sometimes after a few rounds it helps to see if anything could be improved with a rewrite, but don’t expect editors to suggest anything. Many of them field hundreds of verses for each issue, and they don’t have the time to personally analyze and reshape your work into something they wish to publish. Once in a blue moon you may get a personal response with some suggestions; unless you can make a very strong case as to why your verse should remain the same, invariably their edits will improve your work.

There are many haiku-centric and haiku-friendly journals out there, each with their own flavor and slant. It always helps to read the journals to get a sense of what they like to publish; your traditional verse probably won’t be accepted at a journal that features senryu, and your dark biting verse likely isn’t going to be accepted in a journal trying to feature airy zen nature verses. That being said, haiku is an ever-evolving field, and editors won’t accept what isn’t submitted, so if you have challenging verses, by all means shop them around liberally.

What are your favorite haiku that you have written? Can you share a story behind one of them?

As I mentioned above, I’ve found that I skew towards the senryu side of haiku. And I get a particular satisfaction from being able to respond to socio-political and environment issues.

Back in June, Mexico had a deadly heat wave that caused over 150 endangered howler monkeys to fall dead out of the trees. I felt like I had to try to respond. I came up with:

all
of
us

icar
us

fall
ing

how
ler
mon
keys

I’ve always been itching to do more medial enjambments, but my previous attempts had seemed contrived. However I decided to do so here, along with a vertical arrangement, for a concrete overlay to the narrative, plus the enjambments seem to suggest other readings of the verse.

A few days after writing this, on a lark, I submitted this verse to Failed Haiku‘s 2024 H. Gene Murtha Memorial Senryu Contest, not really expecting anything to come of it. Imagine my surprise when I found out it won first place! 😄

What haiku-related project are you currently working on that brings you joy? What do you like about it?

This may seem surprising to most people, but I would say that for me, writing–and creating in general–doesn’t really give me “joy.” Writing, and creating, is a painful process. Often it feels like I’m wrestling ideas from the unconscious into the physical realm; it’s a struggle to bring them from the deep recesses into something tangible in this world.

Some people liken the creative process as dipping into a stream, or tapping into a collective consciousness. While I also see myself as a vessel from which the creative chthonic stream can flow through, I can recognize the extremely chaotic nature of those forces, and it takes work to have it make sense. I get submerged in this mess and chaos, engaging with the full spectrum of human experience, including its darker side, and the limitations of this time and place, to come away with a snapshot of the underlying psychological and spiritual conditions of my relationship to this world.

Incidentally, in my writing which is influenced by Dada and Surrealism, I reverse that process. I take what makes sense and break it down into something that resembles more like the chaos of the primal flows.

But in both instances, the element of chance and surprise plays a big part of my process. Which for haiku isn’t all that surprising when considering its roots came from the hokku, or the beginning verse, of the unpredictable and improvised path of renga group collaboration. (My theory is the renga is also the inspiration for the Surrealists’ Exquisite Corpse.)

I am compelled to create, in whatever fashion I can. Time and time again I allow myself to open up to the confusion, angst, and darkness to connect with something greater than us and create something greater than myself. I willingly sacrifice myself to tiny deaths for new little visions and small wor(l)ds. It’s a drive that’s never satisfied, but during periods where I’m not given opportunity to do so I end up anxious, restless and incomplete. So while writing and creating is stressful, it’s nothing like not creating.

The Scottish writer Irvine Welsh has said: “If reading gives you comfort, you’re not doing it right.” I would add to that if writing gives you comfort, you’re not doing that right either.

I first learned of you and your haiku on Twitter (now X), and I have been following your recent publishing successes. Congrats on your debut book of experimental haiku, Waiting for an Oracle. What do you see as the role of social media with regard to haiku?

Thank you! I can only say how social media has helped me immensely, I don’t want to speak with any authority for others if and how it’s helped everyone else, but there is a large community of haiku enthusiasts on social media with a palpable spirit of sharing and learning.

Creativity thrives among a community, and the good aspects of social media amplify connections and encourage the formation of communities among far-flung people. It’s a great place to share work, throw out ideas and first drafts, and get immediate responses. It is through social media that I’ve been able to build up an audience and establish connections that I wouldn’t have been able to before, or certainly not as quickly.

The writing community in general, as well as haiku writers specifically, are well represented on Twitter (I refuse to call it X 🙃). Collectively they seem to have cultivated a defensive bubble that insulates against the baser nature of much of the more vocal sections of the public and the impulsive machinations of a certain owner of the platform. Even though of late it’s become a haven for extremists and hate groups, they in large part haven’t filtered into and harassed the writing community, so it’s been easy to ignore (also with generous use of the “block” feature when odious sponsored content gets pushed into the feed). But given the way that the platform has been used to push hate and misinformation to influence this past election, and the owner has positioned himself as an unelected supreme leader, it’s been a bridge too far for many folks and they’ve been seeking alternative platforms, most notably switching to Bluesky.

Facebook also has groups like The Daily Haiku (with the largest followers of any haiku group on any social media platform) where people share their work. Recently they started producing their own journal, Leaf.

I’ve noticed many haiku poets are also on Instagram, and many disaffected Twitter poets scattered to other platforms like Threads, Mastadon, and Discord as well as Bluesky. Those communities are much smaller, but for some a smaller intimate gathering is more appealing than the large parties of Twitter and Facebook. TikTok also has some haiku representation, with work being read aloud (like 5HaikuSpoken) or presented as video haiga.

One useful tool for aspiring writers is to make use of hashtag prompts, which are most notably used on Twitter and Bluesky. Wales Haiku Journal (@WalesHaiku) hosts a weekly prompt, suggesting a theme to direct your thoughts for composing haiku. There are many VSS prompts (like one hosted by @vsspoem) which can also be used by haiku poets to conjure up verses. And there are also hashtag prompts which are open-ended, but are also fun ways to share and read what others come up with, like #SenryuSunday and #TankaThursday.

And I’ll add that while this isn’t “social media” per se, I encourage people to engage with the very social feel of prompts and contests that The Haiku Foundation hosts right here. Their Haiku Dialogue, Renku Sessions, and Monthly Kukai emphasize the community participation that haiku sprung from, and is a good way to practice these forms and read a variety of responses.

One thing I’ll note about social media is its transience. Having been on social media since the LiveJournal and MySpace days, keep in mind that any platform will eventually fall out of favor and every so often you may have to build back up your presence and followers. Don’t rely on any platform to be your archive as there is no guarantee any of them will be around in the long term.

You can find me on Bluesky (@petrock.bsky.social) and Instagram/Threads (@petro.c.k).

Your journal, dadakuku – founded in 2023 – publishes works “combining the freedom and weirdness of Dada and surrealism with the minimal aesthetics of micropoetry.” While I enjoy the journal, I’ll admit that I don’t always understand the poems you publish. What sorts of haiku are you looking for? What is an immediate turn-off? How can a poet tell if their work is cutting edge or destined for the cutting room floor?

I’m glad you enjoy the journal, even if you don’t understand some of the poems. If you’re perplexed but still come back, that means I must be doing my job well! 😄

I started dadakuku in 2023 with the idea to combine the two broader literary forms I’ve been gravitating towards once I started writing at a regular pace: haiku and other related micropoem forms, and Dada/Surrealist writing. I had a suspicion that there may well be a connection between haiku and Dada/Surrealism, which once dadakuku was well underway I found out to be exactly the case.

I learned that translations of classic Japanese haiku started making inroads into the emerging Western literary modernist avant-garde at the turn of the 20th century. Many writers who were involved with Dada and Surrealist movements studied and tried their hand at haiku and adopted some of the techniques into their own work; the poets who were to become the Surrealists studied the vivid juxtaposition of concrete images in haiku and carried those lessons into their radical imagism.

The vivid juxtaposition and the linking of images were the most obvious features borrowed from haiku for Surrealist art, literature, and even inspired the use of montage in film. One of Japan’s greatest Surrealists, Nishiwaki Junzaburo, declared haiku the poetic form most consistent with Surrealism. Indeed, the Surrealist practices are most aligned with the yūgen aesthetics of the form developed in medieval Japan.

And haiku was also an influence for later avant-garde poetic forms like Beat and Concrete Poetry.

What kind of haiku am I looking for dadakuku? Well, it can be in any micropoetry form, not just haiku, or no formal form at all, and it can be as highly imagistic as Surrealism on one end of the spectrum, to as conceptual and nonsensical as Dada on the other end. Other modern forms and movements such as Oulipo, Fluxus, or other conceptual and processed text that expand the ideas of what can be considered poetry are welcome. These experimental literary trends mirror the various modern art movements–ever since the first pivots to abstraction that were made in reaction to the advent of photography, from Impressionism on through Dada to conceptual art to appropriation art, the boundaries of what is considered art expanded alongside literary modernism.

This journal is meant to be a literary playground, providing freedom from formal constructs and even from the idea that one has to constantly be “cutting edge,” which is imbued with competition and judgment.

It’s hard to explain what exactly will pique my attention because what I like or don’t like can’t neatly fit into a labeled box. I enjoy poems that reach into liminal spaces, ones that can’t be “understood” as a representation of reality or a conventional narrative.

However, most of what gets immediately discarded are verses that are too long, and that aren’t what I consider weird enough. If something is too “poemy,” has a normal narrative structure, tries too hard to be award-bait, deep, and confessional, I leave it for others to consider.

I let my intuition guide my choices (which incidentally is one of the guiding principles and techniques of Dada). There are no rules. Aside from the length, here’s nothing that spells out what a verse has to have or be, or not, that people need to follow. My motto for the journal is: “Life is short and weird, poetry should be too.”

Feel free to try your hand at short weirdness at dadakuku.com.

Anything else you’d like to share?

Just that I am always so appreciative of my work being selected, published, and read. I think of haiku, and of anything that’s been created, as unfinished until it is experienced. It is the reader that completes the work, bringing one’s own interpretations, experiences, and place in the world into it. (One tip in writing haiku is to imagine the reader standing next to you in the same moment you are encapsulating; two people together experience the same moment differently, so allow the reader to put themselves into your verse.) Art and writing can’t exist on its own, a book unread or art unseen might as well be as ephemeral as an author or artist talking to themselves.

It may seem obvious, but the goal of any type of creation, including haiku, is communication; when so much emphasis is on product and content, the meaning behind it all can get lost. So to all of you who have connected with my work and allowed it to be complete, thank you very much!

petro c. k. lives in the aggressive greenery of Seattle, but lets no moss grow on him. While just a blip in geological time since his formation, layers of his haiku can be traced in a whole slate of eminent journals. He doesn’t take for granite being welcomed into this community. He rocks because you rock.