Status Updates From Far Beyond the Field
Far Beyond the Field by
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Ben Rasmussen
is 88% done
Haiku by Mayuzumi Madoka:
Mother’s Day—
I end up making
my mother cry
impelled to dream
Of soaring in the sky—
goldfish at night
pretending
not to have heard, I sip
a soda drink
watermelon is served,
ending the quarrel
between brothers
choosing a swimsuit—
when did his eyes
replace mine?
— Feb 13, 2023 07:25PM
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Mother’s Day—
I end up making
my mother cry
impelled to dream
Of soaring in the sky—
goldfish at night
pretending
not to have heard, I sip
a soda drink
watermelon is served,
ending the quarrel
between brothers
choosing a swimsuit—
when did his eyes
replace mine?
Ben Rasmussen
is 82% done
By Tsuji Momoko:
about you
it knows nothing—
a spring crab
with a man
at Kentucky Fried Chicken
I grieve spring’s departure
the butterfly—
its face is the same
as a caterpillar’s
— Jan 25, 2023 08:04PM
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about you
it knows nothing—
a spring crab
with a man
at Kentucky Fried Chicken
I grieve spring’s departure
the butterfly—
its face is the same
as a caterpillar’s
Ben Rasmussen
is 75% done
Read thee selection of haiku by Kuroda Momoko tonight. More traditional style haiku. My two favorites:
while the one
peels a white peach
the other weeps
whispering
something to the rose
she cuts the rose
— Jan 24, 2023 06:55PM
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while the one
peels a white peach
the other weeps
whispering
something to the rose
she cuts the rose
Ben Rasmussen
is 75% done
By Uda Kiyoko:
a scrap of iron—
without fail, menfolk
stop to look
beautifully
the cremation ends
before noon
dangling wisteria—
how could aging be this
beautiful?
mountain leeches too
have something to say—
let’s listen
— Jan 21, 2023 07:26PM
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a scrap of iron—
without fail, menfolk
stop to look
beautifully
the cremation ends
before noon
dangling wisteria—
how could aging be this
beautiful?
mountain leeches too
have something to say—
let’s listen
Ben Rasmussen
is 72% done
By Uda Kiyoko:
a scrap of iron—
without fail,
menfolk stop to look
beautifully
the cremation ends
before noon
dangling wisteria—
how could aging be this
beautiful?
mountain leeches too
have something to say—
let’s listen
— Jan 21, 2023 07:24PM
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a scrap of iron—
without fail,
menfolk stop to look
beautifully
the cremation ends
before noon
dangling wisteria—
how could aging be this
beautiful?
mountain leeches too
have something to say—
let’s listen
Ben Rasmussen
is 72% done
By Inahata Teiko:
as if happiness
were waiting, the New
Year’s calendar
icefish—
their lives transparent
in the rippling water
— Jan 19, 2023 08:32PM
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as if happiness
were waiting, the New
Year’s calendar
icefish—
their lives transparent
in the rippling water
Ben Rasmussen
is 68% done
By Tsuda Kiyoko:
not knowing
the height of the mountain
an ant crawls on my knee
flying across the dunes
a butterfly and a crow
each without company
by the moonlit ocean
bereft of song
a bird and I
— Jan 15, 2023 08:21PM
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not knowing
the height of the mountain
an ant crawls on my knee
flying across the dunes
a butterfly and a crow
each without company
by the moonlit ocean
bereft of song
a bird and I
Ben Rasmussen
is 62% done
From the selection of haiku by Katsura Nobuko:
the woman at high noon
untiringly watches
a distant fire
with nothing
to touch, a dead branch
grabs at the sky
though it flies and flies
the wild goose cannot escape
from the moon’s rays
the first day of spring—
a wind from the ocean
but no ocean in sight
— Jan 04, 2023 08:16PM
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the woman at high noon
untiringly watches
a distant fire
with nothing
to touch, a dead branch
grabs at the sky
though it flies and flies
the wild goose cannot escape
from the moon’s rays
the first day of spring—
a wind from the ocean
but no ocean in sight
Ben Rasmussen
is 59% done
Read the selection from Ishibashi Hideno tonight. Probably my favorite so far. Will have to see if there is a translation of her book available.
cicadas at nightfall—
every face passes by
without speaking a word
in the chilling wind
hands of a woman
splitting a fish’s belly
glorious sunset—
feeling a chill, my teeth,
twenty in all, rattle
the summer moon—
my lungs keep crumbling
while I am asleep
— Jan 03, 2023 07:47PM
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cicadas at nightfall—
every face passes by
without speaking a word
in the chilling wind
hands of a woman
splitting a fish’s belly
glorious sunset—
feeling a chill, my teeth,
twenty in all, rattle
the summer moon—
my lungs keep crumbling
while I am asleep
Ben Rasmussen
is 56% done
Read the selection of haiku by Mitsuhashi Takajo tonight.
heaven and earth
suddenly changing places–
falling ill in autumn
where the turtle
has gone down, a dimple
floats on the water
up on a hydro pole
the electrician turns
into a cicada
among thousands
of singing insects, one
singing out of tune
the balloon
filled with sorrow
rising upwards
— Jan 01, 2023 08:17PM
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heaven and earth
suddenly changing places–
falling ill in autumn
where the turtle
has gone down, a dimple
floats on the water
up on a hydro pole
the electrician turns
into a cicada
among thousands
of singing insects, one
singing out of tune
the balloon
filled with sorrow
rising upwards
Ben Rasmussen
is 52% done
From Hashimoto Takako:
the typhoon passes—
quietly asleep
a man near death
a flash of lightning
coming from the north,
I look to the north
one moon
and one frozen lake
sparkling at each other
a heron is shot!
feathers, like scattering blossoms,
come falling down
on a snowy day
my bathed body, a finger
a toe—I love all of it
This one was written a day before she entered the hospital for the last time.
— Dec 26, 2022 07:41PM
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the typhoon passes—
quietly asleep
a man near death
a flash of lightning
coming from the north,
I look to the north
one moon
and one frozen lake
sparkling at each other
a heron is shot!
feathers, like scattering blossoms,
come falling down
on a snowy day
my bathed body, a finger
a toe—I love all of it
This one was written a day before she entered the hospital for the last time.
Ben Rasmussen
is 49% done
A couple haiku from Sugita Hisajo:
reading a play
dishes left in the sink
this winter night
chasing a butterfly
deep into the spring woods
I am lost
— Dec 22, 2022 08:11PM
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reading a play
dishes left in the sink
this winter night
chasing a butterfly
deep into the spring woods
I am lost
Ben Rasmussen
is 46% done
Read the section of Takeshita Shizunojo's haiku today. Some favorites:
the more callouses
the more brightly
my ring sparkles
in the rain and wind
uttering no cry
a shrike in winter
grief and anger—
I spit out black, black
watermelon seeds
— Dec 18, 2022 07:41PM
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the more callouses
the more brightly
my ring sparkles
in the rain and wind
uttering no cry
a shrike in winter
grief and anger—
I spit out black, black
watermelon seeds
Ben Rasmussen
is 37% done
Read the selection of haiku from Enomoto Seifu tonight. Some faves:
at daybreak
speaking to the blossoms
a woman all alone
stillness—
out of the rain a butterfly
Roams into my bedroom
like a fish
in the sea, this body of mine
cool in the moonlight
a market day in the hills—
hailstones ricochet
off the horns of a cow
unchanging dolls’ faces—
I’ve had no choice, except
to grow old
— Dec 14, 2022 08:17PM
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at daybreak
speaking to the blossoms
a woman all alone
stillness—
out of the rain a butterfly
Roams into my bedroom
like a fish
in the sea, this body of mine
cool in the moonlight
a market day in the hills—
hailstones ricochet
off the horns of a cow
unchanging dolls’ faces—
I’ve had no choice, except
to grow old
Ben Rasmussen
is 33% done
trout going downstream—
day by day the water
frightens me more
--Chiyojo
— Dec 10, 2022 07:52PM
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day by day the water
frightens me more
--Chiyojo
Ben Rasmussen
is 26% done
Finally finished the introduction to this book and got to the actual haiku. First up is Kawai Chigetsu, who was a good friend and student to Basho.
alone in bed
I hear a male mosquito
humming a sad tune
like scarecrows
as solitary and charming—
my sister nuns
— Dec 02, 2022 07:27PM
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alone in bed
I hear a male mosquito
humming a sad tune
like scarecrows
as solitary and charming—
my sister nuns




