Too Busy for SpringMichael Dylan Welch and Lee Gurga, editors. Lidia Rozmus, cover illustration. Press Here, Foster City, California, 1999, 36 pages, 91 poets (one poem each), ISBN 1-878798-19-7.
The 1999 Haiku North America conference took place at Northwestern University in Evanston, Illinois (near Chicago). A quotation from the introduction: “One poem or another within this book’s pages will likely stop you with a spark of recognition. That’s how a good haiku works—it captures the essence of a particular moment in such a way that you see what the poet saw, and feel what the poet felt. In its steadfast focus on the particular, a haiku moves us by its clear report of suchness. We see the way sunlight glances off a watch crystal, and we are fascinated like a cat that tries to catch the light. In response to a successful haiku we laugh, we cry, we nod our heads. The best part is that the words don’t get in the way. In a good haiku we see what caused the poet’s emotional response, not the response itself. Thus we can have the same intuitive reaction ourselves.” The following are twenty-eight sample poems, including two translations, from the book.
rain turning to snow— the cat’s tail flicks sharply
A. C. Missias Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
in the schoolyard one of the saplings has failed to bloom
Alan Pizzarelli Bayonne, New Jersey
night drive radio station fading before the symphony’s end
Bruce Detrick New York, New York
sure, I have my thoughts about his body piercings, but I bite my tongue
Charles Trumbull Evanston, Illinois
playground at dusk . . . back and forth on the swing her made-up song
Dave Russo Cary, North Carolina
wife still sleeping back three flights of stairs to check the toilet seat
Dee Evetts New York, New York
the first cuckoo: two long shadows picking in mother’s garden
Emiko Miyashita Miyamae-ku, Kawasaki, Japan
footprints on sand the shape of forgotten happiness
Fay Aoyagi San Francisco, California
The weeds I meant to pull in full bloom
Garry Gay Windsor, California
freezing rain field mice rattle the dishes buson’s koto
Gerald Vizenor Oakland, California
ushibeya ni ka no koe kuraki zansho kana
Bashō
in a cowshed mosquitoes buzzing darkly— lingering summer heat
Haruo Shirane, translator New York, New York
The stillness now Is gone Where the heron stood.
Jack Cain Toronto, Ontario
frozen fingers draw out a dip stick— the long night
Jeanne Emrich Bloomington, Minnesota
autumn moon one yellow leaf free of it
Jeffrey Winke Milwaukee, Wisconsin
midsummer stream’s grown a tunnel
John Martone Charleston, Illinois
nursing home survey: for two out of five it is spring
John Stevenson Nassau, New York
beneath melting snow trailing juniper . . . and a red scarf
Joseph Kirschner Evanston, Illinois
deep crack of thunder in the rain— my mother’s silence
Lenard D. Moore Raleigh, North Carolina
pointed church tower plunged into dark cloud— first thunder
Lidia Rozmus Vernon Hills, Illinois
Kareeda ni karasu no tomarikeri aki no kure
Bashō
On a dead limb squats a crow— autumn night.
Lucien Stryk, translator DeKalb, Illinois
summer solstice— a rack full of hats at the barbershop
Michael Dylan Welch Foster City, California
through binoculars the woman looking at me through binoculars
Mykel Board New York, New York
one in the sunlight one in the shade daisies on my lawn
Nick Avis Corner Brook, Newfoundland
campus bench in the pine tree’s shade . . . an opened letter
Randy M. Brooks Decatur, Illinois
nearly dusk mist distilling into drops on tips of pines
Robert Spiess Madison, Wisconsin
noonday sun as if the first quart wasn’t enough ripe strawberries
Sara Brant Ann Arbor, Michigan
winter solstice— the cat jumps at the sunlight playing off my watch
S. R. Spanyer Louisville, Kentucky
a junco works the grass-seed stalk . . . falling snow
William J. Higginson Santa Fe, New Mexico
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