Earthsigns
Michael Dylan Welch and Scott Wiggerman, editors. Lidia Rozmus, illustrations.
Press Here, Sammamish, Washington, 2017, 84 pages, 183 poets (one poem each), ISBN 978-1-878798-38-1.
Earthsigns collects haiku and senryu by 183 attendees of the 2017 Haiku North America conference, held September 13 to 17, 2017 in Santa Fe, New Mexico. Edited by Michael Dylan Welch and Scott Wiggerman, this anthology features many of the leading poets writing haiku in English, together with petroglyph-themed illustrations by Lidia Rozmus. The book’s introduction begins by saying “Renowned Santa Fe artist Georgia O’Keeffe said, ‘When you take a flower in your hand and really look at it, it’s your world for the moment. I want to give that world to someone else.’ We find such sharing and celebration in this book’s poems.” It also says “May each poem be a flower in your hand, your world for the moment.” You can read the entire introduction, see the contributor list, and order the book online. See also the Press Here page for this book. Here are forty-six sample poems from the anthology, the largest in Haiku North America’s history.
wearing a blue
I have never seen before
Sangre de Cristos
Alan S. Bridges
Littleton, Massachusetts
canyon sunset . . .
so much of his story
I never knew
Angela Terry
Lake Forest Park, Washington
雷雨きて揺れる葉むらの小鳥たち
raiu kite yureru hamura no kotoritachi
thunderstorm—
the shapes of birds
among the swaying leaves
Aya Yuhki
Tokyo, Japan
night of stars—
old wooden crosses lean
into the land
Betty Arnold
Saratoga, California
rubbing oil
into the baseball glove
birthday snow
Bill Cooper
Midlothian, Virginia
pink hoodoos
only my left arm
sunburned
Billie Dee
Las Cruces, New Mexico
white hiking socks
a little less
Red Rock country
Brad Bennett
Arlington, Massachusetts
new table
the years it took
to grow the trees
Carolyn Winkler
Portland, Oregon
sea breeze
the salt taste
in her kiss
Ce Rosenow
Eugene, Oregon
waking from a dream
without a center
misty crescent moon
Charles Trumbull
Santa Fe, New Mexico
en mar azul
como ballenas muertas
dos rocas negras
on the blue sea
like dead whales
two black rocks
Cristina Rascón
Ciudad de México, México
shorter days
the leaves and my hair
change color
David Oates
Athens, Georgia
rocking lightly
in a slight breeze
cicada shell
Don Wentworth
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
global warming . . .
a stamp from Mars
on the envelope
Fay Aoyagi
San Francisco, California
terracotta moon
the door propped open
with a broom
Francine Banwarth
Dubuque, Iowa
Moving . . .
I take my seashell collection
back to the beach
Garry Gay
Santa Rosa, California
dust bathing
a jackrabbit
kind of day
Jeff Hoagland
Hopewell, New Jersey
morning coffee
the roses and i
find some common ground
Jennifer Hambrick
Columbus, Ohio
before my time
a thunder egg
split in two
Jennifer Sutherland
Viewbank, Australia
sharing spicy tamales
our conversation
perks up
Joan Prefontaine
Cottonwood, Arizona
penny for your thoughts
he says . . . she says
way too much
Johnye Strickland
Maumelle, Arkansas
Down in the canyon
the yellow light of a hogan—
threat of male rain
Josette Pellet
Lausanne, Switzerland
Julie Warther
Dover, Ohio
firefly!
hitching a ride
on its own light
Kala Ramesh
Pune, India
snow
on the blue hills
day moon
kjmunro
Whitehorse, Yukon Territory
too late braking the hitchhiker’s middle finger
Lew Watts
Santa Fe, New Mexico
Ghost Ranch
no need
for a dreamcatcher
Lidia Rozmus
Vernon Hills, Illinois
flyover country—
the speck of a tractor
plowing dusk
Linda Papanicolaou
Palo Alto, California
vintage ring its life before us
Linda Weir
Bowie, Maryland
trickster wind
a beach ball
travels down the coast
Lynne Jambor
Vancouver, British Columbia
alive as it’s ever been
earthworm in the robin’s bill
Marian Olson
Santa Fe, New Mexico
worn smooth by wind
layers of light seep
into a cavern
Marietta McGregor
Canberra, Australia
waxed apples
am told I have
my mother’s smile
Maxianne Berger
Montréal, Québec
woods walk—
I catch the cobwebs
that miss my son
Michael Dylan Welch
Sammamish, Washington
holding the sunset
the red clay
of the infield
Michael Ketchek
Rochester, New York
deleting her
last text
scent of snow
paul m.
Bristol, Rhode Island
firehouse fish fry—
from the makeshift stage
the banjo’s heat
Penny Harter
Mays Landing, New Jersey
the park road
would take longer . . .
month of leaves
Robert Gilliland
Austin, Texas
my inner Chiyo-ni
walking the red path
to Chimayó
Robin White
Deerfield, New Hampshire
mammatus clouds
the cries of hawks
build above me
Sandi Pray
St. Johns, Florida
mountain’s outline
the difference walking
alone
Scott Wiggerman
Albuquerque, New Mexico
tule elk . . .
recalculating
the way home
Sharon Pretti
San Francisco, California
hummingbird—
talk of building
a wall
Tanya McDonald
Woodinville, Washington
東北に春あちこちとふきのとう
tōhoku ni haru achikochi to fukinotō
Tōhoku’s spring—
here and there
the butterbur buds
Teruko Kumei
Tokyo, Japan
alluvium
I pocket a stone
meant for the sea
Tom Painting
Atlanta, Georgia
Similkameen
the river rolls
off my tongue
Vicki McCullough
Vancouver, British Columbia