After Danny Solis won the city's haiku championship Saturday night, he wept.
It wasn't first place that made him cry - it was the woman who sang his haiku.
He knew the song would last no more than a minute. Then it would end. He would never hear it again.
"To hear it repeated, as she repeated the lyrics, it was a beautiful thing," Solis said. "And it reminded me of some of the spirit of haiku, the Japanese aesthetic of ephemeral beauty. Like the cherry blossoms: They last for just a moment, so you have to pay attention to them while they're right in front of you before they're gone."
Solis was among eight poets who competed in the haiku battle at the Filling Station on Saturday night.
Don McIver, who helped organize the competition, said haiku battles are popping up across the country. He said they are popular because people are familiar with the Japanese form of poetry.
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"A lot of people have written haiku," he said. "You'll see that a lot in school where they're teaching haiku as a form. But to write a really, really great haiku is really, really hard."
About 45 people packed into the small theater at the Filling Station on Fourth Street. The competition, hosted by ABQ Slam, was a tournament with five rounds in each match.
Two poets took turns reading their haiku - some written long ago, some written on the spot - during each match.
When they were on stage, they wore bandannas around their heads. A blue bandanna represented the sky, and an orange one represented Earth. The judges called each round by holding up flags of the same colors.
Some haiku were humorous: "For girls, puberty is a blossoming. For boys, it's an explosion." Some were serious: "Even now, flowers stretch for the sun. They don't care if winter says no."
Dustin Brown, a CNM student who was eliminated in the first round, said it had been his first time reading poetry in front of a crowd but that it's something he wants to continue.
"It was intense," he said. "I had some pretty good nerves. And then when I was up there, it was sort of like drugs - it was a high, a big rush."
Solis is no stranger to the stage. As a slam poet, he performs in front of crowds. But he said reading a haiku is much different.
"It feels much more spontaneous," he said. "With slam, there's a lot of preparation. There's memorization. There's working the performance of the poem.. Not so much (with haiku). You sort of get up there."
Many of the haiku Solis read were about his 16-month-old son, including the haiku that was performed at the end of the competition:
"Tiny fingers grip mine.
This lasts just so long.
For now, I won't let go."
Solis said the haiku is about holding his son's hand. One day, his son will grow up. No longer will he want to hold his father's hand. So, in the meantime, he relishes each moment.
Like the cherry blossoms, that's what made the song more meaningful, he said.
"She had me crying," he said. "It was the most incredible part of the night for me. It was better than winning. It wouldn't have happened if I hadn't won, but it meant more to me than winning."
