Mountains Plains Sea                         (review in Scope 2014)

Haiku

Duncan Richardson

Pula! Press

 

The dictionary describes the haiku as, ‘A Japanese verse form developed in the 16th century, usually containing seventeen syllables and originally jesting in tone.’  But modern haiku have much more to offer than that, and Duncan Richardson’s haiku collection Mountain Plains Sea has all the best qualities of this poetic form.

In Jenolan, the imagery is as crystalline and startling as what it describes:

 

cathedral cave

crystal bishop wears a hat

of bat shit…

 

in the thick dark

crystals grow

and touch.

 

Ending with the mysterious image : ‘somewhere underground crystal sculptures no one has seen.’

 

Cowra is a meditation on a place where Japanese prisoners of war staged a mass breakout from the Cowra camp. The spirits of the prisoners seem to haunt the place, especially in the final image of a jet writing ‘on the sky’ and the wind blowing the vapour trail ‘into feathers’.  The haiku, unsurprisingly, has references to Japan - ‘Japanese garden’, ‘cherry blossoms’- but the violent historical event dominates. The ironic statement, ‘by the barbed wire an 1800 number can explain all’ is the closest the poem comes to a ‘jest’ but the humour is too dark even for a smile.

 

Lithgow also paints a picture of  town and an historical event in brief but vivid images, flashing before the eye of the reader. In quick, deft strokes the poet sketches not just a town but a way of life. The reference to the 1911 Lithgow riot is equally brief but it encapsulates the long ago spirit of the town which now has only:

                                     

                                      old steel works

                                      pile of slag

                                      and butterflies

                                     

 

here

                                      where the riot was

                                                                             wild fennel

 

Conditions at the Lithgow blast furnace were as brutal as was normal for 1911: there were no washing or showering facilities, no septic system, no provision of transport to the plant, no shelter for outside workers, and of course no issue of overalls or protective equipment, and a complete absence of change rooms and lunch room, and, according to the whim of the proprietor smoking was not permitted during working hours. Boilover was inevitable, especially as the company moved to bring in non-union labour. What began as a strike ended in a riot. On 29 August 1911 a crowd of up to 2500 people gathered outside the works. The crowd rushed the fence, and the strikebreakers and Hoskins three sons barricaded themselves in the engine room (1). This is the riot now signified to the poet by ‘wild fennel’.

 

It is why he uses the image of the ‘ruined blast furnace’ that still ‘casts a shadow over workers’ cottages’.  The mood of the poem is elegiac. The tone is one of furious energy stilled.

                                     

                                      old arms factory

                                      full of ghosts

                                      and asbestos

 

                                      in the gun room

                                      a bolt clicks

                                      silence

 

Now a tourist attraction, at the old Lithgow arms factory, you can have your photo taken ‘with a machine gun’ and in the souvenir shop there are ‘bullet key rings’ for sale. The poet seems to be saying in the concise form of the haiku that the wheel turns and the lesson is unlearned.  His final reference to the ‘squashed insect’ on a windscreen is perhaps an image of humanity, gripped by the forces of history, and the damage done.

                                                                            

 

                                                                            Antonia Hildebrand © 2014

 

 

 

‘1911 Lithgow Riot’, Phil Sparks.