Blue Đào Nguyễn | portrait as 声 : voice, singing (of a bird), chirping (of an insect) disguised as 7 haikus

November 3, 2026
Poets Resist
2026 Midterm Elections
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Blue Đào Nguyễn

portrait as 声 : voice, singing (of a bird), chirping (of an insect) disguised as 7 haikus

(in Vietnamese culture there is a saying that translates to love is only beautiful when it is incomplete). 1 certainly, without snapshot: voice, singing (of a bird), chirping (of an—) 2 how American: an eagle catching its kill. does it still snow / there?

3 so much can happen in one day, a bird sings & there: the bombs drop down.

4 the bells have their tolls. do you hear it? the sound of bullets splintering.

5 there: a moving snap– shot of— wait — the bird singing. was i singing, too?

6 if i wasn’t so (un)american— i would not have cut my tongue. 7 moving snapshot of: (something's arrival), small song chirping of birds and—

Haikus have history in resistance. Or rather—resistance history. I was deeply inspired by a formerly incarcerated writer, Satsuki Ina. Satsuki Ina was born at Tule Lake Concentration Camp. She collected haikus from her father, Itaru Ina, from over the many years of incarceration at a concentration camp, meticulously translating her father's haikus—in order to share her parents' story. The haiku serves as archive and as memory. I was also inspired by some of the resistance haikus written by Saitô Sanki of The New Rising Haiku movement. The New Rising Haiku movement occurred during a time where the government in 20th century fascist and imperialist Japan suppressed haiku, opposition, and various free speech. The New Rising Haiku movement opened the way for more liberatory haiku forms to exist. The New Rising Haiku movement started with poets refusing to adhere to various rules of traditional haiku, opting to subvert the haiku form, allowing the poets to write about (with historical context, what can be interpreted in contemporary time as) their opposition to Japanese fascism and imperialism, as well as, Japan's involvement in the war. During that time, authorities in a fascist and imperialist 20th century Japan, arrested 46 of the leading New Rising Haiku movement poets including Saitô Sanki, in an attempt to silence the movement. The haiku serves as liberatory form and resistance in times where speech is not necessarily free. Haikus have history in resistance. Or rather—resistance history. I was also incredibly inspired and moved by the Worker Writers School and Mohyuddin's usage of the haiku as liberatory form and resistance. I worked on this poem initially during a one off Liberation Haiku Workshop I attended almost a year ago now, facilitated by the Worker Writers School (@workerwritersschool on IG). The liberation haiku, a form, which in the U.S. has been popularized by educator and poet Faisal Mohyuddin (@faisalmohyuddin on IG)—who uses the haiku as a tool for liberation. The haiku, much like many forms, or experimentations utilized in this poem and in my other work, serve as a useful liberatory tool to interrogate U.S.-NAmerican violence, colonialism, imperialism, capitalism, censorship, and grief. Haiku and experimentation begin to look like useful tools in navigating censorship or growing censorship. The poem grew as time went on. Every resistance of yesterday, bleeds into today. Every resistance of today, bleeds into tomorrow's resistance. All of these instances of the haiku being used as a liberatory form and as experimentation during times of censorship is not a coincidence but an intentional practice and tool poets, educators, and organizers are using to exercise speech and opposition in times of rising censorship, voter suppression, state sanctioned violence, and the intentional undoing of human rights, immigration & refugee rights, trans rights, women's rights, Black and Indigenous people's rights. This isn't something that is new. Facism has been alive and well in places like the U.S., Japan, EU, Israel, and so forth. But it would amiss to ignore the speedy progression and uptick in fascism, colonial-settler violence, state sanctioned violence, and surveillance. There is always still hope. Globally, everywhere people are pushing back on alt-right/fascism. The working class, marginalized communities, communities of color, collectively: we have hope and there is very real power in our hope. Hope which is passed down through generations and through borders. I hope this poem, which was inspired by educators, poets, and organizers much more knowledgeable with more years of experience, than I, reminds you of that hope, resistance, and the power in collective hope and action.

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