The Daily Glance
John Coletti's Mum Halo is filled with short poems that border on the edge of long form American haiku to poems with the lyric spirit. The haiku--what? Well, some of these poems read as if they are haikus, but they do not follow the form. They follow the idea more than the history.
Detergent stillness
stork mid-window
clicking lips lined
with clarity's forgetfulness
. . . . . . . . . . . . . .
I can gather a flow from these lines, but we have a lot of space in the flow to add, to see the connections between ideas. To me, that's the brilliance of the haiku. At first, you say, "what?", and then the connection hits you, as if you are being enlightened by something outside of yourself as you read. Not all of Coletti poems work this way. Some are classically lyric and concern many aspects of life, such as relationships.
Wide yellow butterfly
club level watermelon
your bus won't
make a heart shape
of me.
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