Finished reading: Orpheus in the Underpass by Gabriel Rosenstock 📚
no smell of earth
of grapes or honey…
stale piss
The history of haiku shows us that the genre becomes stale, irrelevant, uninspiring and repetitive when it becomes still. It must be on the move, as Basho, Issa and Santoka once were. They are still moving, those haiku masters, constantly and in an unpredictable fashion.