Thomas Fink


HAIBU(NA)KU 1


My horrible parents just threw me out to the core, like a core. I used to worship against them. Couldn’t even stay in that city of aggressive cathedrals and well-connected martyrs whose “going out of business” signs keep getting resurrected. When evil love defaces the file of my life, where are facelifts? Because I have nothing in my pocket, would you like to speak with them about it? If we left in January, it wouldn’t be so frigid.

For
three nights,
we’d eat magnificently.



HAIBU(NA)KU 2


All of my husbands were very sweet. He had a lovely voice but left his job, and I sure didn’t like him anymore. He wasn’t rich like the others—a poor schlep who didn’t seem to study anything exciting. I bit off a little automobile. This whole place is full of hookers, and my name is even listed. Closer of a hole. A lot of women are after him. Now he’s beginning to try them all. Then push her off, huh? I decided not to hear about it, then I heard about it. Is he smarter than we are? I have decided to marry, eventually.

You
can tell
a lot from
shoes.
Don’t know
where he’s living.




Note:
Eileen Tabios, inventor of the hay(na)ku in 2005, inaugurated the use of the haybun in 2008, a haibun involving any number of hay(na)ku as the poetry section following the paragraph(s) of unregulated length. With her blessing, I have devised a stricter offshoot, the haibu(na)ku, in which the paragraph must have an equal number of sentences as the hay(na)ku or chain of hay(na)ku has words.
T.F.

 
 
 
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