re:Virals 542

“More difficult than making your own verses interesting is understanding those of others…” ―Shinkei (1406 –1475). Citing this, Onitsura (1661 – 1738) wrote: “…this should be a way in which a person is completely given over to training.”

Welcome to re:Virals, The Haiku Foundation’s weekly commentary feature on some of your favorites among the best contemporary haiku and senryu written in English.  In the host chair today is Melissa. This week’s poem, chosen by Dan Campbell was:

   
TWIN CITIES
 
NO(T)ICE
 
- Petra Schmidt
dadakuku, February 2026

Introducing this poem, Dan Campbell writes:

I wanted to share this anti-ICE (Immigration and Customs Enforcement) poem as a way to protest the shameful way that the U.S. Government is treating immigrants. The vast majority of immigrants have worked very hard and contribute to making the USA a better country. They arrive with their lives packed into a few bags and many unspoken prayers. They step into an unfamiliar future, where every small victory requires effort and every loss is borne in silence. Through patience, hard work, and unwavering hope, they change both themselves and the nation that will hopefully learn one day to welcome them.

Opening comment (Melissa):

Well there is no point avoiding the elephant in the room this week, so to get straight to the point, we have a micropoem that I would call a politiku. Politiku are basically political haiku or anarchist aphorisms.  What matters is that these are pithy and to the point, which might indicate how this form also tends to be minimalist. They are poems that pack a punch (figuratively speaking). I would argue they are also a form of protest, aiming to make a difference. Politiku are also poems that are based on current events, as is the case with Petra’s words above, which relate specifically to events as they have been and are still unfolding in America today. As Dan and Petra have so eloquently articulated the issues surrounding this, I don’t need to add more. Hence I will explore the poem itself. Initially, when I read the first line I wasn’t sure what this referred to. As a Brit I had no idea what the twin cities were. Luckily I know people who do! (Thanks to Shawn). These then, are Minneapolis and Saint Paul, two cities in the state of Minnesota, where ICE have had a huge presence of late. The second line interests me as I can see ‘NO ICE’ and possibly ‘NOT ICE’, but I wondered whether there was reference to the word ‘notice’ and in what context: an actual notice?, a placard at a protest? or does this suggest putting someone on notice?. Could it be both? Again Shawn came to the rescue, as the public transport system in Minneapolis is symbolised by the letter T enclosed in a circle. To those in the know (not me) this is known as The Circle T. Is this relevant to the meaning of this poem? I would love to hear what Petra has to say about this, when she reads this page!

These thoughts lead to an important point when writing poetry – do the words we write have universal meaning? Do these meanings have resonance for those beyond our shores? To people in other countries and continents? Or even to those living in other times? I wonder what you as the reader think – do these words speak to you? Moreover, are there or have there been similar scenes played out in your cities? When we look at history or around the world today I would suggest that the struggle against injustice and abuse of power by the state is universal, ongoing, and not restricted to what is happening in the USA with ICE. Just look at recent events in Iran. It would be interesting to hear your thoughts on this too.

Currently there is a lively debate in the haiku world regarding whether poetry should be used as a vehicle for protest. There is a long history of art and literature being used in this manner, and some would argue that it is our duty as artists to challenge and question the world we live in. For instance, Albert Camus in his essay Create Dangerously states that ‘there is no other peace for the artist than what he finds in the heat of combat…let us seek the respite where it is – in the very thick of battle’. He is of course speaking metaphorically, but he is arguing that we cannot stay silent in volatile times, that it is our responsibility to bear witness as Petra has above.

For those who are sceptical of this position, I suppose a question might be how effective is art at raising awareness and bringing about the changes that we want to see? Others include whether art, in this case poetry have any effect at all? How many people read our poems, and how long do they linger in their thoughts afterwards? These are not easy questions to answer, but hopefully they will stimulate an ongoing dialogue in what is a diverse and lively community of writers.

Urszula Marciniak:

I recently discovered dadakuku and noticed the poem selected here.
Notice how little it takes for people around the world to become brothers and live in twin cities to win the good life. One small change is enough, without that one person, without that one institution, without the ice written in lowercase and that written in capital letters. Global warming between people is so desperately needed. Don’t pass by indifferently. React. Notice the injustice and suffering. You will quickly see how much will change. Others will follow your lead. The ice will crack before it has a chance to melt. Let’s hope we can avoid further human casualties this time.

Radhamani Sarma:

Immense thanks to Haiku Foundation for giving us a challenging write of very recent origin and growth.  Published in dadakuku ,experimental poetry , a wordplay by Petra Schmidt, a chance for readers to look into the meaning and metaphor, exploring the vast panorama of the writer’s intent as well as expanding horizons. Unlike haiku and monoku, monostich with syllable and word restrictions, this short form itself is one unique gift to modern poetry

Beginning in capitals this avant-garde poem, is at once a puzzle and wordplay:
TWIN CITIES/NO(T) ICE/.

Recalling my school days when History subject taught us about the ancient Indus valley civilization, Mohenjo-Daro and Harappa, the most advanced urban infrastructure, rose and fell suddenly with the decline of the Indus Valley Civilization.
NO(T) ICE , there was no T-shirt, no Transportation, no play and Tea Time, no Trekking,
Nonetheless, the Twin cities existed in history and will go down in history.

Next applying the pun or wordplay intended to accompany the contemporary scenario, the TWIN CITIES in capitals, (T) in brackets, as follows: our main concern is with the Twin Cities: Minneapolis and St. Paul in Minnesota, and with US IMMIGRATION AND CUSTOMS ENFORCEMENT OPERATIONS which has been impacting these TWIN CITIES. Hence converting wordplay or satire of this avant -garde technique, one can presume, there is no Transportation, Traffic, no T-shirts, no Tea time without (T) tintinnabulation; no nonsense theatre, no Travel destination, no Tourism -etc., Life in TWIN CITIES is such, a perpetual voyage into uncertainty, restlessness.

Finally, Petra Schmidt is a wordsmith, playing with interplay of words, the technique being experimental allowing readers more and more speculation. Thanks for giving us a chance to know more about TWIN CITIES..

Sudha Devi Nayak:

L1 of the haiku talks of the twin cities which can be anywhere till you come to L2 and you notice ICE the Federal Agency-Immigration and Customs Enforcement- entrusted with the task of weeding out illegal and undocumented immigrants, part of the philosophy of MAGA. The pieces fall into place and the puzzle is complete.  Twin cities is probably a reference to Minneapolis and St. Paul in the State of Minnesota, the scene of the present crisis where two citizens have been gunned down in a face-off with these Federal Agents.

All those who have reached the shores of America in search of the great American dream in pursuit of their ideals and ambitions or even just a decent living in freedom are waking up from that dream. Facing pestilence and war, persecution and poverty in their own homeland several populations have come seeking refuge, taking heart from Emma Lazarus’s call inscribed on the Statue of Liberty: “Give me your poor/your huddled masses yearning to breathe free/The wretched refuse of your teeming shore/Send these the homeless tempest tossed to me/ I lift my lamp beside the golden door”. Ever since the first pilgrims stepped off the Mayflower, America became as President Reagan said “the eternal home of the immigrant.” America became the cauldron of displaced communities, the melting pot of diverse cultures that contributed to the idea and dream of America. The best and brightest minds with access to state of the art laboratories,and universities have shaped America, found welcome and wholehearted acceptance and called the country their own.  Yet today they are herded into shelters, treated as traitors and infiltrators by the agents of the law with mass deportations in subhuman conditions. Deportation is an administrative measure not a punitive spectacle and the immigrant too has a right to humanity. Barack Obama the former President of America has said about his immigration policy “Scripture tells us that we shall not oppress a stranger for we know the heart of a stranger. We were strangers once too. We are and always will be a nation of immigrants”.

It is indisputable that no country can accept everybody beyond their borders placing a burden on their economy and resources, but, the matter can be dealt with with more finesse, compassion and diplomacy. America is strongest when it lives up to its ideals, treats people with dignity and respect as it is known to do and draws them into the great American Dream.

Jonathan Epstein:

What makes this three-word micro poem more than a clever protest placard?

First, it broadcasts strong place name associations (utamakara) in all caps formatting. TWIN CITIES shocks with the power of an old newspaper headline of major import —“TITANIC SINKS!” “WAR OVER!” “HITLER DEAD!”

In the American Midwest, The city of Minneapolis, nicknamed the Twin Cities (It encompasses the metropolitan area of Minneapolis and its neighbor city, St.Paul), was front-page news this January when U.S. federal agents (ICE — Immigration and Customs Enforcement) were deployed by executive order to mass-arrest undocumented immigrants. In the confrontations between ICE and protesters that followed, two protesters were shot and killed by ICE.

Add to the connotations of
violence and mounting terror in TWIN CITIES this year a likely (subconscious?) association to the TWIN TOWERS and the terrorist attack on New York City’s World Trade Center in 2001. This serves up a double whammy of grim associations around an event soaked in terror.

Now to line 2, NO(T)ICE, with its two readings — the first a command to “observe, take heed, pay close attention” and the second — with the parenthetical T removed — a new command, NO ICE, which we read as “Abolish ICE.”

In the February 2026 issue of the micro poetry journal dadakuku that published this piece, TWIN CITIES is listed as the title, separate from the poem. Though submitted with the title of TWIN CITIES, “NO(T)ICE” is featured by itself, several spaces below and several font sizes smaller than the title; a single word with a dual reading, an example of wordplay.

We first read it as NO(T)ICE and then, since parenthetical information shows something extra but non-essential, we remove the (T) for a second reading and a new understanding: Take away the terror from this government crackdown on illegal immigrants — abolish ice.

It’s worth citing the accumulation of small effects that add dimension and weight to this piece. We can read it with title and without (I prefer it as the two-liner received in re:Virals); with (T) and without. We can (should) consider the removable T as symbolic of some key word. Terror? Tyranny?

I have noted the use of all caps to give a sense of intensity and urgency to the ICE presence in Minneapolis. Add to this the alliteration of the three Ts, one in each word. This echoes what the T represents (I suggest Terror), which occurred in Minneapolis when confrontations with ICE were videotaped by iPhones and seen in YouTubes and on television throughout the world.

Petra’s micro poem gets to the heart of senryu. It shines a search light on the failure of human beings to develop compassionate kinship for their species and, instead, project hardness of heart. Just three words is all it takes for this poet to send ripples of turbulent feelings and trigger recall of images suggested by TWIN CITIES and ICE. In this tiny, restrained poem, a surprising depth and emotional resonance.

Orense Nicod—poetry as witness:

TWIN CITIES
NO(T)ICE

is a striking example of how extreme textual compression can generate expansive political, philosophical, and poetic resonance. Though visually minimal, the poem operates as a dense field of meaning in which typography, punctuation, capitalization, and spatial arrangement perform the work traditionally carried by narrative or description. It is ultimately a poem about reclaiming power over language, attention, space, and historical narrative, achieving this through the material and semantic possibilities embedded in its central parenthetical hinge: (T).

I. Twin Cities

“Twin Cities” as a geographic marker (Minneapolis–St. Paul) foregrounds the poem’s spatial dimension. Through its compression, the poem naturally highlights iconicity and the materiality of language on the page. “Twin” immediately establishes doubling, mirroring, division within unity, parallel realities. From the outset we are primed for two things occupying one conceptual space, preparing us for the typographic split in NO(T)ICE and the cognitive dissonance it creates.

You read:
NOTICE
then instantly:
NO ICE

That mental flicker is the poem. And that flicker mirrors divided cities, divided perceptions, divided realities — further complicated by the polysemy of notice.

We encounter Siamese poems about the Twin Cities: one of enforcement, one of hope; two populations inhabiting one city — documented/undocumented, safe/unsafe, visible/invisible.The “twin” structure may also evoke a polarized civic body, a population divided not only by policy but by what, and whom, it is willing to see.

“Minneapolis” itself is a hybrid construction from the Dakota word mni (water) and the Greek polis (city). The name embodies linguistic and cultural mixture. The idea of twin cities further emphasizes duality, coexistence, and relational identity. This etymological and geographical duality counters contemporary anti-immigration narratives, reminding us that the city, and by extension the nation, is founded on mixture and encounter. Division, therefore, is historically artificial; hybridity is the original condition. The poem’s formal structure, two readings inseparable within one text, mirrors both the city’s name and its founding condition, rendering the conflict it stages deeply ironic.

II. Notice as Enforcement

“Notice” evokes the language of official authority: eviction notices, legal notices, deportation notices. It is the vocabulary of institutional power, of warning and enforcement. The poem’s use of all caps reinforces this association, modeling the visual tone of bureaucratic and governmental communication: language issued from above, intended to command attention and compliance.

At the same time, capitalization carries contemporary resonance. In recent political discourse, particularly in Donald Trump’s public communications, all caps have frequently been used to signal urgency, threat, and declaration. Cities designated as “sanctuary cities” have repeatedly been “put on notice” within this rhetorical framework. The poem’s typography subtly echoes this register, allowing NOTICE to carry the weight of institutional warning even before its internal fracture becomes visible.

This fracture stages a confrontation spatially; it is not only semantic wordplay but diagrammatic. Visually, we have NO — the protestors — on one side and ICE on the other, with the parenthetical T acting as a barrier between them. The word becomes a miniature field of encounter.

The parentheses function like a frame or spotlight. The isolated T is destabilized, shifting from letter to pictogram capable of multiple meanings. It can register as a body, even a chalk outline, quietly hinting at the stakes and potential human cost of such encounters. The enclosing brackets evoke detainment and deportation. Parentheses as detainment visually enact ICE procedures, legal control, and the bureaucratic cage. They emphasize structural oppression, showing how authority can enclose, contain, and control both people and the meaning of language itself. The T as body in parentheses may also evoke the marginalized and euphemized dead (I think of Renée Good, Alex Pretti and more).

What is masterful is that the poem does not merely state opposition but stages it in multiple ways. This is classic iconicity: form visually enacting the relationship it describes.

Ill. ICE on Notice

This opposition is mirrored in the twinning of every formal element. Each element performs double duty, signifying both subversion and counter-force.

NOTICE is reclaimed by the Twin Cities, and in that reclamation it becomes ICE that is put on notice by the population rather than targets being placed under the gaze of institutional authority. If we shift from reading the word as NOTICE to reading it as the conjoined poem NO ICE, the all-caps typography undergoes a semantic and performative transformation. What once enacted the language of bureaucratic command now models the collective voice of dissent: protest placard, rally chant, signage on a business door or someone’s lawn.

In this shift, language begins to behave like bodies in space. The typography becomes iconic of crowd action: all caps gathers letters the way crowds gather bodies. Upright, visible, unified, each letter stands like a person. Crowds challenge the movements of ICE rather than being silently surveilled by it. Official actors and enforcement agents no longer hold exclusive power to “notice”; instead, communities notice them: filming with cellphones, tracking movements, calling attention to presence and behavior.

In such readings, the parenthetical (T) can also be seen as a whistle blown in protest, or a placard held aloft: a marker signaling alert and dissent rather than control. The parentheses may even suggest concealment and protection, spaces in which those targeted by ICE are shielded rather than exposed.

Once the reader perceives NO ICE, the poem demands a second reading, a “down-top” gesture. We initially read NOTICE in its usual top-down orientation, encountering the language of bureaucracy and authority. Then, as the word fractures, NO ICE inverts the perceptual flow: authority is no longer the observer but the observed. This second reading mirrors the dynamics of grassroots resistance. The poem thus makes the act of reading itself a performance of inversion, a participatory gesture in which attention and agency are reclaimed in the very motion of our minds, bodies, and eyes.

IV. The Reader as Witness

NOTICE is also an injunction to the reader. Reading itself becomes ethical: now that you know, what will you do?

The reader does not simply interpret the poem but performs it. The perceptual shift from NOTICE to NO ICE, the second “down-top” reading, and the act of detecting the parenthetical cut all require active participation. The poem completes itself only when this cognitive and visual work is performed. The reader becomes part of the poem’s circuitry of attention: noticing is not passive reception but a performative gesture mirroring the civic acts of witnessing, signaling, and accountability the poem evokes.

Where authoritarian language seeks singular meaning, parentheses generate plurality. They allow multiple readings to coexist simultaneously. This multiplicity is itself resistant. A regime of control depends on narrowing meaning; the poem widens it and the reader enacts its widening.

Through the simplicity of its execution, the single typographic cut performed by the parentheses, the poem models how micro gestures can produce macro effects. It demonstrates that no gesture is too small, that attention once activated accumulates into collective force. In this way the poem emphasizes agency and the power of collective awareness and accountability.

The parenthetical (T) may also be read temporally. In many domains, from physics to scheduling, T denotes time: a marked moment. The poem situates us at moment T — a charged present, an urgent now in which noticing demands response.

At the same time, parentheses traditionally signal the non-essential, the aside, the historically bounded. Read as an initial, the T can evoke a particular political era or figure whose authority is framed as contingent rather than permanent. What is bracketed is passing. What remains, outside the parentheses, are the Twin Cities, the civic body, the population whose collective attention endures.

V. The Fruit of Knowledge

The poem’s hopeful dimensions emphasize the possibility of reclaiming power through awareness and agency. Yet at its most basic, the poem is a wounded phrase. Its pathos is visual before it is semantic: the parenthetical incision registers first as damage, fracture, interruption — a structural injury. The reader encounters not a statement but a form that has been cut. The wound is seen before it is understood.

The etymological root of notice is the Latin noscere: to know. Schmidt’s poem splits the word at its root, transforming an instrument of institutional knowledge into a site of contested awareness. The parenthetical incision is irreversible: once NO ICE is seen within NOTICE, the word cannot return to neutrality. Even if the political moment evoked by the bracketed T were to pass, its mark remains — a scar in language. The vertical T itself evokes a tree — a tree of knowledge — suggesting that the poem offers insight that cannot be undone. What is bracketed here is not only a letter or an era but a moment of awakening itself.

The parentheses curve around the T like the outline of an apple, suggesting a fruit split open to reveal its core. In Genesis, eating the fruit of knowledge produces irreversible awareness: there is no return to innocence. In the poem, seeing NO ICE inside NOTICE produces a similar irreversible semantic awareness.

The act of seeing produces a fall of awareness akin to the biblical one. The reader, like the citizen confronted with systemic failure, recognizes that authority and law are not inherently benevolent: the state can fail, the constitution can fail, and institutional power can be wielded in ways that harm the vulnerable. Knowledge of this is irreversible; it must be carried forward. In this sense, the poem stages a civic Eden: the fall is simultaneous with awakening. Awareness itself becomes a burden and a responsibility.

The parentheses therefore function as both incision and aperture. They mark harm, division, and interruption, yet also create the opening through which perception deepens. Knowledge enters through the wound. Visual form, etymology, and semantic insight converge: the apple of knowledge is embedded in language.

Knowledge is power, knowledge is burden. Here, the act of reading becomes ethical and performative. To notice is to know, to witness, and to participate in action or inaction.

VI. Ma and the Shaped Interval

The parenthetical T functions as a site of visual ma: a charged interval rather than a simple absence. The apple exists as fruitful emptiness; the parentheses both enclose and empty the T, creating tension between form and void. The letter itself is shaped emptiness and emptied shape — a mark that both occupies space and opens it — and in this duality becomes more than a simple gap.

The T, as emptied shape within parentheses, becomes a locus of both semantic and aesthetic resonance. With ma meaning emerges not from solid presence alone but from the interplay of presence and absence. The T is simultaneously full and empty, a pivot around which perception expands. Its multiplicity of possible readings — body, whistle, placard, stem, tree, worm, moment T, initial, intersection, dead end, scales, gallows and so on — generates the depth of suggestion central to haiku perception: the mind completes, resonates, and participates.

In this way, the poem cultivates yūgen: profound suggestiveness emerging from the interplay of what is shown and what is implied. The fractured word, the apple-like parentheses, and the suspended T together produce a microcosm of inexhaustible suggestion. What is most powerful is not what is explicitly stated but what the interval allows the mind to encounter.

For haiku practitioners, Schmidt’s poem offers a precise lesson: the more shape ma has, the more generative it becomes. The more articulated the interval/cut, the greater its capacity to produce resonance. The parenthetical cut in NO(T)ICE demonstrates that the haiku gap is not empty but charged, not void but formative.

Conclusion

Petra Schmidt’s poem is unassuming yet exceptional — or perhaps exceptional because it is unassuming. On first encounter, it does not announce itself as “important.” There is no overt lyricism, no elaborate imagery, no rhetorical flourish. It could easily be overlooked, and that risk of being overlooked is part of its meaning. A poem about noticing that can itself be missed creates a subtle but powerful irony. The reader must earn the poem through attention.

Some will balk at considering this poem a haiku. I do not. It enacts haiku’s essential gesture — the cut — in a sophisticated and illuminating way. In doing so, it reveals a fertile overlap between contemporary micro-poetry and haiku practice. Each form can inform the other: micro-poetry reminding haiku of the material and visual possibilities of language on the page, and haiku offering micro-poetry a refined understanding of interval, resonance, and perceptual depth. We do not have to choose. The poem has chosen for us by revealing how much can occur within so little.

There is one more and perhaps most visceral reading (T) offers. The parentheses as keyhole/peephole. ICE is at your door, looking to serve notice, and through the aperture you see the silhouette of an ICE agent—or perhaps T for tyranny itself. The parenthetical cut holds both formal innovation and human terror, philosophical depth and visceral fear. In two words split by a keyhole, the poem makes visible what those under threat already know—and refuses to let the rest of us look away.

Author Petra Schmidt:

It would be impossible to say this poem wasn’t politically motivated, for that was the driving engine for its creation.

On January 20th, I was protesting with a small group on a corner of a busy intersection, when an ICE agent stopped his truck, and he threatened us. This left a scab on my conscience, and I had to write about it. I tried many longer versions of the poem, but they didn’t quite work like this shorter and bolder version. I’m sure many will agree with it, and many will not. But I still have the freedom to write it, don’t I?

Thanks to all who sent commentaries. As the contributor of the commentary reckoned best this week, Orense has chosen next week’s poem, which you’ll find below. We invite you to write a commentary to it. It may be short, to a maximum of 500 words (succinctness will be valued);  academic, your personal response, spontaneous, or idiosyncratic.  As long as it focuses on the verse presented, and with respect for the poet, all genuine reader reaction, criticism, and pertinent discussion is of value.   Out-takes are kept in the THF Archives.  Best of all, the chosen commentary’s author gets to pick the next poem.

Anyone can participate. Simply use the re:Virals commentary form below to enter your commentary on the new week’s poem (“Your text”) by the following Tuesday midnight, Eastern US Time Zone, and then press Submit to send your entry. The Submit button will not be available until Name, Email, and Place of Residence fields are filled in. We look forward to seeing your commentary and finding out about your favourite poems.

Poem for commentary:

     
kuma in a coma in a cave
—Roberta Beach Jacobson (Indianola, Iowa)
ASAHI HAIKUIST NETWORK
January 30, 2026

re:Virals is co-hosted by Melissa Dennison and Keith Evetts (managing editor).

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Footnote:

Petra Schmidt has been published in Chrysanthemum, dadakuku, Femku, haikuniverse, The Heron’s Nest, and Modern Haiku. She enjoys coffee shops, bookstores, and organic gardening. Her dream is to someday visit Australia and to snorkel the Great Barrier Reef.

——

Albert Camus (2018) Create Dangerously Penguin Modern: 17, Random House, London

Create Dangerously