Someone held a cigarette lighter up to this particular renku in my spring garden on the corner. As a form of criticism, it leaves a lot to be desired. Was it this verse on the front, sent me by Sandra Stephenson as an academic offshoot of rengu or this one I love on the reverse side?
Like the awful poet said: ‘Something there is that doesn’t love a tree…” Or maybe its the old woman reference he’s not partial to. Or the fact that someone can nod off to sleep while he, poor arsonist, is forced to roam the city streets with his lighter, seeking targets in the middle of the night?
At any rate, torching the renku has never happened in the three or so years I’ve been sticking poems in the garden. Anger, sure. Complaints, a lot. People argue with the verse. Sober people. Declare those particular lines are unworthy, should not be posted.
All such lovely reasons for continuing to do so!