MARCH FEATURED POET

Welcome to the 3rd Wolf Twin Review!

Introducing Tré: a haiku and senryu author, illustrator, forest hermit, Massurreal artist, and Wolf Twin.

Portrait by: Tré

Shape

hands shape words

my fluent tongue ties

a poem

Itchy Teeth

kuchisabishii

owner of a lonely mouth

itching for cupcakes

Wújí Enby

we're children

of the in-between

born as one

Violets

wild violets

springtime harbingers

turn my tea blue

Shingetsu

when the moon is new

you become one of a kind

every single time

Featured Poet Interview:

1. Haiku is a very short form. Conversely, your Allspell Septology will eventually comprise seven books. What are the differences and similarities in working in a form that short and a series with hypothetically limitless space?

Epic Fantasy writing is a massive puzzle that takes decades; whereas, I can piece a haiku together within minutes. Despite their differences, both writing forms are similar in that they require assembly. Writing Bohowler’s is like floating in a calm sea: you can lose yourself to it—allow the telling to carry you along inside that infinite space. When visiting a scene, I can feel the enormity of it, stretching out into an entire universe. Composing Haiku is entirely different. Though it is more structured and comes from a minimal place, it’s exhilarating. It reminds me of sledding down a rocky hill. As the world suddenly shrinks around my perception, all that exists is a thought and the one path to the bottom. I know the ride is going to be over in a blink, but it’s worth it. The thrill never gets old. Each time you run back up that hill to slide down again—you’re excited to be challenged.

2. You are a bonsai enthusiast. In what ways is shaping a bonsai, or choosing not to shape it, similar to fashioning a poem or a novel?

Bonsai, storytelling, and writing poetry all require visualization skills. These are art forms one must hone and practice to master. Without research, foresight, and strategy, success can wither as sure as a half-baked thought or a neglected tree. Just because a branch is healthy now, or a concept is solid, it doesn’t mean that it won’t grow sideways later—require shaping, wiring, and pruning. One must become as adaptable as the wood we’re shaping, the plots we’re twisting, and the poems we’re weaving. Light (punctuation), water (words), and humidity (sentence flow) are important to understand. Too much water, roots rot—too many non-essential words, and your story or poem can suffocate. You prune a word here, bend a sentence there, feed the concept to encourage growth, and make certain the soil and pot size are correct. Proper shaping and editing reveal the true shape of our imaginations.

3. As an avowed forest hermit, how do the flora, fauna, rocks, soil, air, and water you are surrounded by inform your writing?

Most of my writing is derived from dreams. Rooting myself in nature focuses my thoughts, energizes my body, and fuels my imagination. Exploring and connecting with the land, taking in the sky, listening to the sound of a stream clears my head of distractions. Coming across a hidden mushroom, I don’t just see a sneaky fungus, I gain a future story fragment. Maybe it will inspire a haiku about dappled light upon its cap, or it will become the shroom of destiny in a future tale. 

4. As someone who experiences synesthesia, how do you approach translating the phenomenon (many people will never experience) in your stories, poems, and illustrations? Or do you feel that's even necessary?

The approach is simple: I recreate experiences from a place of truth, then revel in adding all the details. As a child, I often expressed the way I experienced the world—as most do—without any concept of being different. I had no idea that it was called synesthesia. I thought everyone tasted songs, heard flowers, smelled emotions, and saw the colors of words. Its influence is in everything I do. Synesthesia is as vital to the way I express and exist as any other combination of senses. Articulating how it feels, in any art form, is second nature for me. It is a necessary cog in my machine. 

5. You illustrated Moonscape as well as co-writing it. Who are your favorite illustrators?

I collect illustrator’s books. It would be easy to fill an entire page with my favorites. Here's a short list: Patrick Nagel, Doré, Hokusai, Helen Jacobs, Yoshitaka Amano, Rowland Emett, Alice B. Woodward, Peter de Sève, Louis Wain, Virginia Frances Sterrett, and Brian Froud.

But, my all-time favorites are the ones I personally know, and whose talents delight me daily: Beth Surdut, Brian Thies, Tom Brown, Lucinda Storms, Zoetica Ebb, CarsonDrewIt, and Travis Louie.

6. Do you remember your first haiku?

I do remember. Like the free verse haiku I’ve published here today, it leaned toward senryu (human nature themed). But, before I share my first haiku, it’s important to understand why I started writing:

My obāsan (granny), Tae Tanaka was from Tokyo. She worked at our local diner and often took care of me after school while my parents worked. I’d sit at the counter, draw, and do homework while she worked and stuffed me full of rice balls and chanko (soup). Because of her, my haiku journey began at age seven. She taught me the form to help with writing structure and syllables. Some days, I wrote until the crayon snapped. It gave us something special to share, and left me with precious memories that live on in my heart.

Granny Tae’s face spoke a thousand words. I was a quiet and shy child, and she was a quiet and bold woman. Anyone who mistook her silence for timidity, didn’t know her well. During the week, I became her watercolor-stained shadow. If I wasn’t writing, I was painting. She’d hang my drawings behind the register. I didn’t understand why, but she also encouraged me to journal. The little notebooks she brought back from Japan provided a perfect medium for my words and art to live together. Looking back, I realize she hoped it would help me continue to express myself. Pairing poems with drawings is how I document life. Most of my haiku are also haiga.

Sadly, the diner no longer exists. Passing by the building, I can almost see her silhouette flipping hash browns through the window. It’s a bittersweet feeling. Her memory is a treasure. Without her influence, I wouldn't have started writing haiku so early in life. She gifted me a lifetime of learning, meditation, experimenting, and gratitude. How can anyone repay such blessings?

I continue to write in her honor.

My first crayon haiku/senryu:

Happy Meal

two dollar Big Mac

will never ever replace

my Happy Meal toy

A kid's priorities, right? As you can tell, my writing style has gone in a different direction since then. But, I still love toys and cherry pie.

7. Why have you chosen to title your haiku?

That's an excellent question. Traditionally, haiku do not require titles. Most publishing journals use the first line as the title, when needed. Though I strive to honor the nature of this treasured form, I name everything—even my teacup. As a graphic designer and visual artist, personal style influences my presentation. Like I mentioned earlier, if you peek inside my journal, you'll note the haiku/senryu begin as haiga. I treat haiku like art, and as an artist, I've never created an untitled work. In short, my haiku share titles with the artwork that accompanies them.

Since I sell my haiku and haiga as individual prints, displaying them as "untitled" would be a nightmare. There's also another practical reason behind titling my work: on average, I create 12 haiku a day. They add up fast. While preparing for publication, it's much easier to catalogue and search through thousands of titled poems.

Despite personal preferences, when my work is published elsewhere, I omit the titles and rarely use punctuation or capitalization. Before submitting poetry, it’s important to comply with present standards, read the room, and dress your work for the occasion. There are many conflicting haiku rules, and opposing opinions. Over the decades, I’ve witnessed the standards morph and change. All we can do is what feels right, and know how to conform, or when to let go. I think Jane Reichhold said it best in BARE BONES School of Haiku:

"There is, thank goodness, no one way to write a haiku. Though the literature has haiku which we admire and even model our own works on, there is no one style or technique which is absolutely the best. Haiku is too large for that. Haiku has, in its short history (just over 400 years) been explored and expanded by writers so that now we have a fairly wide range of styles, techniques and methods to investigate."

8. If you were a tree, which would you be?

Ash. It’s a tree that is very close to my heart. They are said to symbolize life force, creative expression, and the power of the spoken word. Growing up, I used to daydream upon its graceful limbs, and wore samara seeds as earrings. I still love to collect the pods, toss them into the air, and watch as they helicopter down.

To Tré:

Thank you so much for being our Featured Poet, and Happy Birthday, Wolf Twin!

Dearest Readers:

Greetings, fellow poetry lovers. Thank you for your continued support of the literary arts! Subscribe and return to experience all our moonstruck poets. Owwwoooooo!

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