Haiku Society of America
Merit Book Awards for 1989
for books published in 1988
Charles Dickson and Makoto Ueda
judges
First Place
Nicholas A. Virgilio. Selected Haiku. Burnt Lake Press, Sherbrooke, Quebec, Canada, and Black Moss Press, Windsor, Ontario, Canada, 1988.
autumn twilight:
the wreath on the door
lifts in the windon my last journey
alone on the road at dawn:
first sight of the sea
Second Place
Rod Willmot. Sayings for the Invisible. Black Moss Press, Windsor, Ontario, Canada, 1988.
alone with my books . . .
far off, the library turnstile
clicksdandelion stains:
into my trunks
her fingers slipping
Third Place
Jane Reichhold. Tigers in a Tea Cup. AHA Books, Gualala, California, 1988.
in morning’s sun
a basket of fire-starting twigs
white with frost
Honorable Mention
Robert Spiess. New and Selected Speculations on Haiku. Modern Haiku, Madison, Wisconsin, 1988.
A selection of speculations:
In order for a now-moment of haiku awareness to be fully apprehended, must we not be truly innocent? Must we not be dying to the past from moment to moment so there can be the renewing of innocence? Innocence has no baggage, no accumulations; and only by continually dying to the past can we be free of accumulations and able to experience a haiku moment with joy, freshness and wonder.
As with all genuine art, a true haiku is a clarification of experience. The haiku poet makes the unfamiliar familiar and the familiar unfamiliar, and yet in such a way that we exclaim, ‘Of course’
In haiku the half is greater than the whole: the haiku’s achievement is in what it omits.
A superficial understanding of Basho’s ‘A haiku is what is happening right here and now’ results in a report of a stimulus, a bit of journalism, or merely a more or less scientific description; not in genuine haiku of aesthetic creation, poetry, insight, felt-depth and intuition.
As haiku poets we can learn much from such sources as the traditional masters’ haiku and from contemporary haiku publications; but our best teachers are wind and rain, oaks and anemones, rivers and mountains, minnows and giraffes, eagles and wood ticks, children and God’s fools.
There is nothing wrong with experimentation in haiku — unless it is used to try to mask superficiality and hollowness.
Honorable Mention
Dee Evetts. A Small Ceremony. From Here Press, Fanwood, New Jersey, 1988.
a small ceremony
lifting stakes now thinner than
my trees come of agetrain starts to move
the rain on the window
slants the other way
Honorable Mention
Joseph Gustafson. October Sun: A Year of Haiku. Leicester Hill Books, Worcester, Massachusetts, 1988.
Last days of winter
only the tail of my kite
flutters in the oakWind in the road lifting robin’s wing
Honorable Mention
Jane K. Lambert. Small Journeys. privately published, [Greenville, North Carolina], 1988.
Heat waves
ripple the sunflowers
one thunder clapNight light:
the small boy falling asleep
fireflies in a jar
Honorable Mention
Geraldine C. Little. Beyond the Boxwood Comb: Six Women’s Voices from Japan. Sparrow Press, West Lafayette, Indiana, 1988.
arranging blossoms
in my black hair
he will untwistall those footsteps
going by my door, but
I recognize his . . .
Honorable Mention
anne mckay. Street Songs. Wind Chimes Press, Glen Burnie, Maryland, 1988.
always at eight fiftynine
the pawnbroker
havanaand folded morning paper
neon and star
on
and
on
Honorable Mention
Wally Swist. Chimney Smoke. Juniper Press, LaCrosse, Wisconsin, 1988, and Unmarked Stones. Burnt Lake Press, Sherbrooke, Quebec, Canada, 1988.
dewy morning:
the logging truck’s load
sweating sapQuaker graves
in a clearing
unmarked stones