I wrote a short HePo series, an amalgamation of poetry and narrative. I tried to make a journey out of it for the reader in the classic Choose Your Own Adventure style in the sense that the onus was on the reader to continue the narrative instead of simply imploring the reader to turn the page.

This is the 'Director's Cut' for those without copious free-time to invest in internet sleuthing. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it:

Chapter One:
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/4930049/1-hades-lament/

Chapter Two:
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/4930058/2-no-where/

Chapter Three:
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/4930062/3-death/

Chapter Four:
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/4930078/4-a-day-goes-by/

Epilogue:
https://kiloblitz.net/2024/12/09/life-of-nowhere/

A man goes to a doctor—
“Doctor, I’m depressed,”
the man says; life is harsh,
unforgiving, cruel.

The doctor lights up!--
The treatment, after all, is so simple!

“The great clown Pagliacci is in town tonight,”
the doctor says,
“Go and see him! That should sort you out.”

The man bursts into tears.

“But doctor,”
he says,
“I am Pagliacci.”

Shaped like a haiku—
words packed tight in foreign breath.
The soul never came.


NEW Collection!

https://hellopoetry.com/collection/136302/death-to-hiakus/

This agenda calls for the de-appropriation of haikus in English—a dismantling of a poetic form that, once deeply spiritual and rooted in Japanese culture, has been flattened into a novelty by Western imitation. The 5-7-5 syllable structure, lifted without its linguistic or cultural context, becomes a lifeless shell—used more for kitsch or brevity than meaning.

As a third-generation Japanese American, this critique is not academic or abstract—it’s personal. The haiku, repackaged in English, often feels like a mockery dressed in reverence. It’s cultural cosplay: wearing the form without embodying the spirit. The language lacks the tools to carry the weight haiku was meant to hold—ma, kigo, and kireji don’t survive the translation.

This isn’t rebellion for rebellion’s sake. It’s reclamation. It’s a refusal to let poetic tradition be reduced to a classroom exercise or aesthetic fetish. Through deliberate subversion—anti-haikus, parodies, critiques—the aim is to illuminate what’s been lost and force a reckoning with how easily culture is misrepresented when divorced from its essence.

This isn’t a rejection of haiku. It’s a eulogy for what it becomes when its soul is rewritten in a tongue that cannot speak it.