(a series of meandering haiku)
By Robin Smith
In this collection of penned landscapes, I want to invite readers to take a leisurely walk through the words, the way one might through a field or forest. The words are loosely grouped, similarly to how wildflowers or saplings might be found, in relative proximity to one another, yet in no strict order or arrangement. This allows the space for other words to mix their way in, akin to plants spreading at the root and growing into one another.
With this form, much focus is put on drawing the reader in to interact with the haiku—but not only that. What I wanted more than anything was to reinforce the idea that no two people will experience the reading of any haiku in the same way. My hope was that this method of writing and arranging would lead to the sequences being read in a variety of directions and configurations, encouraging the reader to insert themselves by manipulating the language and filling their own words into these new arrangements. Each meandering haiku consists of a mixed sequence written such that each can be read as three primary haiku, as well as numerous secondary and tertiary haiku. There is no correct way to read them.
Robin Smith is a chronically ill and disabled nonbinary trans femme who writes and creates visual art. Their work focuses on disability, gender, trauma, and systems from a neurodiverse perspective. They are the founding and managing editor of Human/Kind Journal and Human/Kind Press, and associate editor at Yavanika Press.