We write lists all the time, poets or not — things to do, stuff to buy, clothes to pack, concerns that occupy our minds. Making a list is an intuitive way to convert what feels chaotic in our brains into a manageable order.
A Japanese poetic form called zuihitsu utilizes list-making to create art. The poet Kimiko Hahn, who led I workshop I took a few years ago at the Fine Arts Work Center, works with this and other Japanese forms in her books of poetry. She sometimes teaches zuihitsu in her workshops. I found it both liberating and confounding. Ultimately, as Hahn says, the finished poem in the zuihitsu form feels random, but ultimately reveals a unifying order.
Hahn discussed the zuihitsu form in an interview with BOMB Magazine:
This might be a strange analogy, but I like to think of the zuihitsu as a fungus — not plant or animal, but a species unto itself. The Japanese view it as a distinct genre, although its elements are difficult to pin down. There’s no Western equivalent, though some people might wish to categorize it as a prose poem or an essay. You mentioned some of its characteristics: a kind of randomness that is not really random, but a feeling of randomness; a pointed subjectivity that we don’t normally associate with the essay. The zuihitsu can also resemble other Western forms: lists, journals. I’ve added emails to the mix. Fake emails.
Today, write a list poem, or a zuihitsu. The best way I know to get started in this form is what Hahn taught in our workshop. Think of a category — “things that are short” or “ideas that are impossible” or “animals I’ve known” and let your mind wander as you create a numbered list. You’ll be surprised at the places your brain will go when provided a little structure.
If all else fails, think of a top-ten list and go from there.
