We have a giant chalkboard in our kitchen. Every morning for the past couple weeks, I've been greeted by a new haiku from my housemate Shaheen while I wait for the moka pot to work its magic.
There have been poems about the mushrooms found growing in the backyard, his soreness after a trail run in Ancient Lakes without any training, the desire for quesadillas, a 29th birthday wish for our friend, his dismay at avocados gone ripe all at the same time. It's a bit of levity and silliness tucked into 17 syllables.
To bookend the first week back from a refreshing spring break, I worked with our guest speaker on a music video for her band. The song draws from the disorienting experience of feeling trapped in expectation, in relationship, in the fears with which we're born. The visuals matched; a cold, largely empty house trapping our distraught character in a maddening sci-fi cage. Playing with light and shapes, I leaned into severe angles and visual harshness for BTS photos. My haiku draws from that set:
So many clocks in
this house. Time stands still and slips
by, a river rush.
Maybe I'll add it to the chalkboard.
