The Daily

Posts Tagged ‘Haiku’

Edgar Allan Ho, and Other News

October 31, 2013 | by

edalholarge

  • This would either confuse an alien who had just set foot on Earth, or maybe explain everything: the NSA haiku generator.
  • Along similar lines: Edgar Allan Ho, which BoingBoing has anointed Best Sexy Costume 2013. (As the creator of the admittedly theoretical Sexy Struwwelpeter, I respectfully disagree.)
  • The Life of Frederick Douglass: A Graphic Novel comes to Kickstarter.
  • According to the Common Core guidelines, The Hunger Games is more complex than The Grapes of Wrath. (But, plotwise, it sort of is, no?)
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    Times-ian Haiku, and Other News

    April 3, 2013 | by

    Screen Shot 2013-04-03 at 9.17.20 AM

  • Foxing and diapers: learn the anatomy of a book.
  • A Tumblr blog displays incidental New York Times haiku (not all of which mention nature, but still).
  • The AP has dropped illegal immigrant from its stylebook. The New York Times (haiku generators) are considering following suit.
  • A Jane Austen guide to thrift. Retrench!
  • “I am officially Very Poorly”: Iain Banks reveals that he has terminal cancer.
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    Translating, Restoring, Interring

    June 14, 2012 | by

  • The long, strange history of Dorothy Parker’s ashes.
  • Translating Emily Dickinson (into modern English).
  • Thomas Pynchon (finally) allows his books to be sold digitally.
  • At the newly launched the Slant, Erica Jong talks … well, everything.
  • The Arizona Department of Transportation turns to haiku for their latest dust-storm PSAs.
  • Hemingway’s Oak Park childhood home has been purchased. The new owners say they plan a Hemingway-esque restoration.
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    James Shea’s “Haiku”

    February 9, 2012 | by

    What poem would I write today, if I had it in me? So many titles come to mind. For instance: On Eating an Orange that is Too Wet. Or: On Drinking Coffee Slowly and Finding it Cold. The poem about Failing to Own a Microwave. Poem After Weird Moon. The poem called Patience.

    Of course, the name of a poem isn’t a poem. Or is it? This is what James Shea’s brilliant, funny poem “Haiku” makes me wonder. It is a breathless, cluttered, charming, and heartbreaking list of titles. The poems that follow the titles—were they to exist—would be spare and measured. But Shea refuses to measure himself. These unwritten poems speak of ambition and youth, and suggest a flood of feeling that won't be contained by form. It’s a series of ghost haiku. Yet these traces of other poems, taken together, make a whole no less sufficient, no less moving, for its cobbled parts. Read More »

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