Jack Kerouac Haiku

Lauren Monaco проиллюстрировала свои любимые Хокку писателя Джека Керуака:

ДЖОННИ ДЕПП ЧИТАЕТ КЕРУАКА

American Haiku (1959)

«The American Haiku is not exactly the Japanese
Haiku. The Japanese Haiku is strictly disciplined
to seventeen syllables but since the language
structure is different I don’t think American
Haikus (short three-line poems intended to be
completely packed with Void of Whole) should worry
about syllables because American speech is
something again…bursting to pop.

Above all, a Haiku must be very simple and free
of all poetic trickery and make a little picture
and yet be as airy and graceful as a Vivaldi
Pastorella.»
Jack Kerouac

Early morning yellow flowers,
thinking about
the drunkards of Mexico.

No telegram today
only more leaves
fell.

Nightfall,
boy smashing dandelions
with a stick.

Holding up my
purring cat to the moon
I sighed.

Drunk as a hoot owl,
writing letters
by thunderstorm.

Empty baseball field
a robin
hops along the bench.

All day long
wearing a hat
that wasn’t on my head.

Crossing the football field
coming home from work -
the lonely businessman.

After the shower
among the drenched roses
the bird thrashing in the bath.

Snap your finger
stop the world -
rain falls harder.

Nightfall,
too dark to read the page
too cold.

Following each other
my cats stop
when it thunders.

Wash hung out
by moonlight
Friday night in May.

The bottoms of my shoes
are clean
from walking in the rain.

Glow worm
sleeping on this flower -
your light’s on.

The Northport Haiku (1964)

Jack Kerouac wrote these haiku in Northport in 1964
at the home of the artist Stanley Twardowicz who was
also a good friend of his. Kerouac had been living
in Northport for some time and it is fortunate that
these rare haiku have been recorded and kept. They
are a section of a larger collection produced at the
time. They first appeared in the American small
press magazine STREET Volume 1 number 4 in the
Spring of 1975.

Close your eyes -
Landlord knocking
On the back door.

A quiet Autumn night
and these fools
Are starting to argue

Lonely brickwalls in Detroit
Sunday afternoon
piss call

O for Vermont again -
The barn on an Autumn night

Fiddlydee! -
Another day,
Another something-or-other!

Whatever it is, I quit
-now I’ll let my
breath out -

How many cats they need
around here
For any orgy?

Tonight I’ll lower
my tail –
I’ve seen them around town

In Haikkaido a cat
has no luck

Every cat in Kyoto
can see through the fog.

The birds start singing
but he is in the cat meadows

I’ll climb up a tree
and scratch Katapatafataya

If I go out now,
my paws
will get wet

A car is coming but
the cat knows
It’s not a snake

In London-town cats
can sleep
In the butcher’s doorway.

I should have scratched
that spot before
I started to sleep

Haiku my eyes!
my mother is calling!

Some Western Haiku from Book of Haiku (1968)

Arms folded
to the moon,
Among the cows.

Birds singing
in the dark
- Rainy dawn.

Elephants munching
on grass – loving
Head side by side.

Missing a kick
at the icebox door
It closed anyway.

This July evening,
a large frog
On my door sill.

Catfish fighting for his life,
and winning,
Splashing us all.

Evening coming -
the office girl
Unloosing her scarf.

The low yellow
moon above the
Quiet lamplit house

Shall I say no?
- fly rubbing
its back legs

Unencouraging sign
- the fish store
Is closed.

Nodding against
the wall, the flowers
Sneeze

Straining at the padlock,
the garage doors
At noon

The taste
of rain
- Why kneel?

The moon,
the falling star
- Look elsewhere

The rain has filled
the birdbath
Again, almost

And the quiet cat
sitting by the post
Perceives the moon

Useless, useless,
the heavy rain
Driving into the sea.

Juju beads on the
Zen manual:
My knees are cold.

Those birds sitting
out there on the fence -
They’re all going to die.

The bottoms of my shoes
are wet
from walking in the rain

In my medicine cabinet,
the winter fly
has died of old age.

November – how nasal
the drunken
Conductor’s call

The moon had
a cat’s mustache
For a second

A big fat flake
of snow
Falling all alone

The summer chair
rocking by itself
In the blizzard

from Heaven and Other Poems (1977)

The little worm
lowers itself from the roof
By a self shat thread

Сам Керуак читает свои «Американские Хокку»

from the novel Desolation Angels (1965)

Desolation Angels is similar to a long haibun.
Some of the fragments make it as haiku while
others don’t quite make it. I’ve included a
few that seem to be close to what we’d call
traditional American Haiku. (John Hudak)

A bubble, a shadow -
woop -
The lightning flash

Thunder in the mountains -
the iron
Of my mother’s love

Mist boiling from the
ridge – the mountains
Are clean

Mist before the peak
- the dream
Goes on

as cold
water in a dell
on a dusty tired trail -

Girls’ footprints
in the sand
- Old mossy pile

Wooden house
raw gray -
Pink light in the window

Neons, Chinese restaurants
coming on -
Girls come by shades