Burning Haibun. What were we thinking???
We don’t know. We really don’t
We can’t even remember which of us came up with the idea and now I’ve got the sickly feeling it was me.
Here’s the thing. The burning haibun (a form created by Torrin A. Greathouse) doesn’t sound that bad. (Spoiler: It is.)
You start with a prose poem (that takes us on an interior journey of sorts) and then “burn it down” (through erasure) into a free verse poem that you, in turn, “burn down” (through erasure) into a haiku.
Oh, and also there should be some real burning in the poems.
Oh, and the theme or meaning of each segment should twist or reverse or reorient or something.
Actually maybe it does sound that bad!
But y’know what? We did it. We did it anyway!
These are sloppy and probably break half the rules, but so be it!
(Oh, and I almost forgot our overarching 2025 theme of “conversation”. What does this have to do with that? Heck if I know! I guess the three segments are talking to each other. And we complained to each other a lot while writing. That counts, right? Anyway… onward!)
And now, for my slightly easier-to-read versions:
I Forget: A Burning Haibun
By Liz Garton Scanlon
I
I forget to put the car in park, watch it careen down a steep hill without logic or care, rattling and veering, I am running after it, picking up speed till my cheeks blaze and lungs burn. By the time I reach the bottom, only the license plates are left. I feel relieved, honestly – strangely ok with this hot, hulking loss of my own making. I turn and walk away. That thing, I say to the night, was the source of all my suffering. I say it even though I don’t believe it. I’m not sure it was the source of much, that car. Unless pain is things lurching out of control and the speed of darkness this time of year and the great grave injustices of the world. Unless it is the fact that I miss so many people all of the time. And that there’s the never-ending chase, riddled with regrets and worries, gasping for breath. And the things I should’ve said but didn’t. The things I wish I hadn’t said. How should I know the root cause of anything or why I’m in this state or what really hurts and why? Can’t a car veering out of control be to blame for my own small humanness? Can’t walking away be the cure?
II
I forget to watch.
Without logic,
I pick up speed,
blaze and burn
the plates.
My turn to suffer.
(The pain is grave.)
I miss the time, the chase,
and the things I didn’t cause.
What really hurts:
Veering out of control.
Blame. Humanness. Walking away.
III
I forget logic,
pick up things I hurt
out of humanness
OK, I’m exhausted. Here, go read the others!!
Tanita
Tricia
Sara
Laura
Mary Lee
And Jone is hosting Poetry Friday today — thanks, Jone!
By the way, next month we’re trying “overheard” poems. Eavesdropping’s easy compared to burning haibun! Join us!
You took your dream and let it burn through you, into something piercing and lovely. (Maybe writing a haibun burns away all our pretenses??) And for all our complaining on ZOOM about prose poems, so far all the ones I’ve read have been stunning. I love the way yours ends with questions: Can’t a car veering out of control be to blame for my own small humanness? Can’t walking away be the cure? And I love how you’ve worked your way to some small answers with the next two poems. Here’s to humanness, the source of poetry.
Oh my goodness – y’all never shy away from a challenge, or even a whole dumpster-fire challenge! Except these are loaded with poignant thoughts. Each form works on its own and will be slowly burning with me today. Thanks for sharing!
This one pokes at all the smoldering fires of shame I try to keep tamped down — mistakes I’ve made, loved ones I’ve hurt, broken promises…I have such a hard time forgiving myself and reminding me that I’m only human. I will hold that haiku in my heart through the ongoing work of repair.
Wow, Liz. This is very powerful. As a small child, I was in a car that rolled down a hill (but slowly). A scary event for everyone involved and likely “smoldering fires of shame,” as Mary Lee says, lingered for the driver.
Wow, spectacular progression. Talk about a challenge! Impressed by the emotional resonance. *thunderous applause*
CAN’T walking away be the cure?! I mean, why not?
(When I was a kid IRL I watched my Dad forget to set the break on our Toyota which rolled down a SF hill and crunched into someone’s garage door. I’m pretty sure he wished he could walk away, too, but we all just shrugged. Life in SF. Hills. Humanness. These things happen…)
Jeez, though, that haiku, Liz. I’m scorched inside. I pick up things that I hurt, and that hurts me back. And it all burns down all over again…
*sigh. BRAKE. He forgot to set the BRAKE. Annoying inability to correct spelling in blog posts. 😖
Terrific Liz, so much humanness blazing out of this poem— human emotions, brava!!! And it made me smile to see another with erasures that were like mine—there’s the angst 😊 thanks!
Ha! I can see why you’re exhausted. But, oh what incredible crafting. I love it! This would be such a great format for a longer story. But, it would seriously be the marathon of writing!
I’m thinking this burning haibun process is a great alternative to therapy! Whew! Emotional wipeout! Thanks, Liz.
Like others I have read, each one takes a ‘burning’ desire to be done with something, to heal that pain, and as you’ve written the word, “humanness”, I applaud your effort to end with something many want to achieve, Liz. Wow, this haibun made me breathe faster!
Wow, Liz, this is incredible. I feel distinct and different reactions to each part, each one so powerful in its own way. I’m left shaking my head over how hard it is to be human. Brava!
And I agree with Patricia’s comment above — burning haibun as therapy! 🙂
I love the process of the burning haibun. I may have to ask my haiku group about it.
And hooray for eavesdropping poems. i’ll start listening!
Oof. Each one of you has (having put more in) made something deeply emotional, all the flavors of fire and ash, and I’m realizing that the hand-blackened versions are, every time, more affecting. Why can’t we? Why do we? Why do we write what hurts instead of walking coolly away?
I got so inspired that I had to try my own burning haibun (had not dared before, though I had admired from afar) and I cheated a little by using a poem from 2017 to start. I’m not sure I got the pivots & development in, but it’s a first go. https://photos.app.goo.gl/2o8WUK4TaWgwJUhKA
Oh my goodness HEIDI!!! Yours is so beautiful — poetically and as a physical object!! I’m stunned. I think your middle one is maybe my favorite in that there’s still some narrative but seeing it pared down (burnt down) from the first really lets the imagistic language pop. Wow. Thank you so much for sharing — here’s to soaking up as much of the lightbath as we can…
So this was a dream, Liz? The car careering away and being destroyed? If so, whew. This is glorious and visceral, and it’s fire–in both the literal and the complimentary sense :>D I actually love your prose poem the most of all three, though the haiku’s a close second. That’s saying something, for me, hater of prose poems. I felt that relief of turning and walking away. I was right there with you. Wow. Wow. Wow.