1. Use as model the whole of Basho's Journey to the Narrow Interior, integrating a prose narrative as well as the poems/haikus of a journal of a one-day period in your life. (a) Take a one-day period representing a typical weekday (not weekend); (b) be specific and detailed in both narrative descriptions, and the five (or more) haikus, growing out of the narrative in culminating spots, using the five main subjects and techniques of Basho's haiku as listed below. Be sure to use specifics and imagery in not only the haikus but also your prose narrative (including who, what, where, when, why, how, and especially how things looked and sounded, and perhaps felt, tasted, or smelled). Avoid using only abstractions, philosophical terms, or abstract nouns in your prose narration and haikus. As noted in section 4, below, indicate the time(s) and date(s) of destinations, the purposes of the trips or destinations, interactions with other people (if any), briefly what happened on the trip or at the destination, and physical or material description of the environment of the trips and destinations within the two-day period.

2. Interspersed in the prose narration of your two days should be one haiku on each of the following subjects or techniques from the haiku in Matsuo Basho's The Narrow Road of the Interior, applying the haiku to your two-day journey (or, really, journeyings) in the modern America of the CSRA (though some places in the CSRA are [much] less modern than others: e.g., St. Paul's cathedral contrasted with the Augusta-Richmond county civic center in downtown Augusta):

2a. Effect(s) of light or darkness on surrounding appearances; the mood of things, associated with the lighting effects

2b. The feeling(s) or mood(s) evoked by a site with historical or religious associations

2c. A contrast, or the contrasts, between something grand or large scale, juxtaposed--actually in physical contact with or extremely close proximity to--with something small or miniscule (cf. Basho's cricket haiku in Narrow Road)

2d. Mountains OR seashore/beach OR flora (some flora comparable, in your two days, to Basho's cherry blossoms, pine trees, bush clover, or miscanthus--maybe, ironically, artificial plants at one of your journey's sites?)

2e. A departure or leave-taking (e.g., could be from the Winn-Dixie on Fury's Fury Road to your next stop, or something grander)
 

3. Adhere to the following advice given by X.J. Kennedy in his textbook Literature: An Introduction to Fiction, Poetry, and Drama:

        Note that a haiku has little room for abstract thoughts or general observations. The following attempt, though in seventeen syllables, is far from haiku in spirit:

        Now that our love is gone
        I feel within my soul
        a nagging distress.

        Unlike the author of those lines, haiku poets look out upon a literal world, seldom looking inward to discuss their feelings. Japanese haiku tend to be seasonal in subject, but because they are so highly compressed, they usually just imply a season: a blossom indicates spring; a crow on a branch, autumn; snow, winter. Not just pretty little sketches of nature (as some Westerners think), haiku assume a view of the universe in which observer and nature are not separated.

        A haiku in Japanese is rimeless, its seveneteen syllables usually arranged in three lines, often following a pattern of five, seven, and five syllables. Haiku written in English frequently ignore such a pattern; they may be rimed (like [some] English versions of Buson and Basho), or unrimed as the poet prefers. What English haiku try hardest to preserve is the powerful way their Japanese models capture the intensity of a particular moment, usually by linking two concrete images.

        If you . . . try your hand at haiku-writing, here are a few suggestions. Make every word matter. Include few adjectives; shun needless conjunctions. Set your poem in the present--"Haiku," said Basho, "is simply what is happening in this place at this moment." Confine your poem to what can be seen, heard, smelled, tasted, or touched. Mere sensory reports, however, will be meaningless unless they make the reader feel something . . . .
                                    (6th ed.; pp. 668-669)

4. As Basho does, you should include in the prose part of your two-day journal or diary (a) the time and date of your destinations, (b) the purpose of the trips or destinations, (c) interactions with other people, if any, (d) physical or material descriptions of the environment of the trips as well as destinations, (e) briefly what happened at the destinations.

5. On lab day, divide up into lab groups of no more than five, and no fewer than three. In the team, critique each other's combination of prose narrative and haikus for the criteria given in these directions. These critiques should actually be written down and used in revising the two-day journal plus haikus for turning in no later than a week after the lab. Your one-day journal, including the haikus, is due up to a week after the lab. The one-day journal (including haikus) is worth one quiz.

6. The prose journal, including the haikus, should be typed or word processed and double-spaced; no formal title page should be used, but the your name should be on the first page, along with a clear, straightforward title (optionally, a clever title, with a clear, straightforward subtitle). Staple the assignment once in the upper left corner, and do not put it into any sort of envelope, folder, or binder. As per MLA format (explained in any composition handbook, including the one used at ASU for Engl. 1101 and 1102), put your surname and page number on all pages, and especially on pages following the first. Your journal should run between three and seven pages; note that Basho's journal for several months isn't all that lengthy, and that Basho is selective about which sites along his journey and which details of those sites he records and describes his philosophical and emotional responses to.