I read simply haiku, modern haiku, frogpond, wisteria, and the heron’s nest as often as possible.

I feel very closely connected with these publications though there are many others that are wonderful sources of inspiration. Many of these editors reply with kind and helpful criticism that make writers want to return.

I read these publications to gain more knowledge about the history of haiku which will help me, as the founding editor of Lyrical Passion Poetry E-Zine to provide new possibilities and rewarding opportunities for writers. I hope to achieve a permanent connection with haiku and tanka writers and watch as our readership increases and our prizes increase significantly to match those of other prestigious poetry publications. This is my way of showing appreciation to the haiku community for the wealth of knowledge and guidance provided by wonderful writers like Ferris Gilli, Lenard Moore and Michael Dylan Welch.

I like to read the big Japanese saijiki, because it does not only quote wonderful haiku but also explains the Japanese culture, the meaning of words that are not familiar and so on. Thus I can enrich my understanding of Japan and find my way through the four seasons … and the rainy season, which we “enjoy” right now at its best.

Gabi from Okayama
World Kigo Database

The Hiroaki Sato edition of Basho’s Narrow Road has been a constant delight for years. The intertextual information reforms one’s sense of the potential of haibun; to use Gilbert’s useful concept, Basho’s art of “cutting” is extremely complex, especially in light of his observation of the master distinction encoded in the gap between the parts of the haiku form. Sato’s en face notes open up meditative sites for issues raised by haiku form. As an editor, I hope the present ferment in haiku circles will help poets explore these potentials. And Peipei Qiu’s Basho and the Dao is always on the table as a remedy for boredom. I have some students who are doing wonderful things, and of course I keep reading them! Jamie Edgecombe is a painter-poet who has only begun to realize his promise. We live in interesting times!

The first haiku book I fell in love with was Nick Virgilio’s Selected Haiku. I reread it at least once a year. Virgilio’s best haiku still seem to me the most memorable and poignant English originals I’ve encountered.

Ironically, though, when I began writing haiku seriously myself, I found my subject matter and style mostly did not resemble Virgilio’s work. As a writer, I felt I made the biggest stride toward my goals after immersing myself in the work of Robert Spiess (esp. The Turtle’s Ears and The Shape of Water) and John Wills (esp. Reed Shadows). Both possess an extraordinary feeling for natural imagery that at its best transcends mere sketching and intimates a deeper feeling of oneness with the cosmos. I always feel inspired when I return to their work, perhaps especially by the elegant concentration & concision of Wills’ finest haiku.

Glancing at my haiku shelves, I would add the following as books that particularly stand out for having revealed aspects of haiku to me, for establishing my standards of excellence for the genre (in English), and for drawing me back time & again for sustenance:

A Moon in Each Eye, Charles B. Dickson (AHA Books, 1993)
Presents of Mind, Jim Kacian (Katsura Press, 1996)
Fresh Scent, Lee Gurga (Brooks Books, 1998)
Almost Unseen, George Swede (Brooks Books, 2000)
A Path in the Garden, Christopher Herold (Katsura Press, 2000)
To Hear the Rain, Peggy Willis Lyles (Brooks Books, 2002)
quiet enough, John Stevenson (Red Moon Press, 2004)
The Silence Between Us, Wally Swist (Brooks Books, 2005)
Desert Hours, Marian Olson (Lily Pool Press, 2007)
Wing Beats, John Barlow & Matthew Paul (& others; Snapshot Press, 2008)

Right behind these are a host of other titles to which I intend no slight by singling out the above ten.

In terms of translations of Japanese classics, Blyth’s four volumes and Robert Hass’s The Essential Haiku have been especially valuable to me.

“Chysanthemum Love” over and over. In fact I just found it among the dusty remains of my beloved bookshelf and re-devoured it.

A fitting review has already been written, but I’ll summarize – Led Zeppelin meets Sylvia Plath at an all night rave.

It is a delicious peek through Aoyagi’s sheers – a must read for anyone who hopes to affect English-language haiku and an overlooked contributor to the American Hybrid canon.

Dear Fay made haiku relevant!

For those about to ‘ku, we salute you,

Toler

“Cold Mountain: 100 poems by the T’an poet Han-shan” translated by Burton Watson. … I know it’s not considered a haiku book…but consider this:
“Who says the sparrow has no horn?” This line is in #41…it’s from “Book of Odes, Airs of Shao-nan, Hsing-lu”…”That is, though the fisherman bears me no ill, his songs poke holes of sadness in me.”
“This place is finer than the one where I live!” – that’s the last line of #3. This book, and “The Country of Eight Islands:An Anthology of Japanese Poetry” translated and edited by Hiroaki Sato and Burton Watson seem to have created the “odes” in my mind that echo in a fine haiku. As I read journals, and blogs and letters from friends a sense of the song – bringing both old and new – “See how he pokes a hole in the roof!” (last line in #41)

The first books of haiku I ever encountered were The Haiku Anthology, 3rd edition, edited by Cor van den Heuvel, and Haiku Moment, edited by Bruce Ross. Both of these have great bibliographies that led me to journals and individual collections. I was at college when I first came across haiku, and the library there had Raymond Roseliep’s Rabbit in the Moon as well as Listen to Light. These four books paved my way to haiku.

I have to say that Nick Virgilio’s Selected Haiku has probably had the most influence on me. What drew me to his work were the haiku he wrote about the loss of his brother. Many of those poems made me look at the loss of my own brother differently.

The collections of haiku that I most admire are those that seem to be centered on place, those that offer a taste or feel of a certain region. That is something to be admired and something in which I strive for as a haiku poet. My list will give you a better idea (these are in no particular order):

Across the Windharp – Elizabeth Searle Lamb
The Silence Between Us – Wally Swist
Reed Shadows – John Wills
School’s Out – Randy Brooks
A Path to the Garden – Christopher Herold
A Moon in Each Eye – Charles Dickson
Desert Hours – Marian Olson
Endgrain – Dee Evetts
Breath Marks – Gary Hotham (and any of his smaller collections as well)
Mosquitoes & Moonlight – Robert Gilliland
Presents of Mind – Jim Kacian
Cicada Voices – Eric Amann
Along the Way – Garry Gay (as well as his other collections)
Fresh Scent – Lee Gurga
Late Geese Up a Dry Fork – Burnell Lippy
Open Window – Michael Dylan Welch
Sketches of the San Joaquin – Michael McClintock
The Essential Haiku – edited by Robert Hass

My copy of Garry Gay’s Along the Way has taken quite a beating. It’s dirty, frayed at the edges, and some of the colors on the cover have rubbed off. I used to carry it around in my back pocket. I love how his haiku and senryu seem effortless.

There are countless others I wish I could name here by authors such as Stanford M. Forrester, Mark Brooks, Carolyn Hall, John Barlow, George Swede, Peggy Willis Lyles, John Stevenson, and on and on and on . . .

These posts are going to make a great reading list for me…I’ve treasured many of the volumes mentioned already. Allan mentions Jim Kacian’s Presents of Mind…I found his Six Directions a dear friend for years…It taught me a great deal about the “weight of words” – the tactile feeling. Also, I have to mention that John Stevenson puts out a little journal that captures the conversational quality of haiku friends….don’t miss his Upstate Dim Sum.

Merrill Ann (& all),

I mentioned earlier learning aspects of haiku from various books. One thing Presents of Mind showed me in particular was haiku needn’t be depictions of moments but can embrace longer spans of time–e.g.:

the cold night
comes out of the stones
all morning

all winter long
smoke on the horizon
in the same place

That might seem a prosaic lesson to some sophisticated folks here, now, but at the time for me it was a bit of an epiphany. It’s an important aspect of Jim’s style, cutting against the dominant grain of the “haiku moment”. Nothing wrong with haiku moments, of course–love ‘em myself–but not the be-all, end-all either.

One other thing about Presents of Mind: It gets my vote for best haiku book *title* ever.

Also–enjoyed seeing the overlap between my list and Chad’s (–and, btw, great to hear from you, Chad). A lot of the others you mention are also favorites of mine (Across the Windharp, Along the Way, breathmarks, Endgrain, Late Geese Up a Dry Fork, Sketches from the San Joaquin, Water Lines, Stanford’s books), and I walk away with a few recs, too.

Gee, once you start listing, where do you stop?

Some others not mentioned yet I’ve particularly enjoyed returning to:

Circle of Thaw, Virginia Brady Young (Barlenmir House, 1972)
Tracks on the River, Paul O. Williams (Coneflower Press, 1982)
A Journal for Reflections, Ruth Yarrow (The Crossing Press, 1988)
bending with the wind, Nick Avis (Breakwater, 1993)
Grinding my ink, Margaret Chula (Katsura Press, 1993)
In the Margins of the Sea, Christopher Herold (Snapshot Press, 2000)
Earthjazz, Martin Lucas (Ram Publications, 2003)
ebb tide, John Crook (Snapshot Press, 2003)
Lull before dark, Caroline Gourlay (Brooks Books, 2005)
Turn to the Earth, Peter Yovu (Saki Press, 2005)
water poems, Kirsty Karkow (Black Cat Press, 2005)
called home, paul m. (Red Moon Press, 2006)
The Horse with One Blue Eye, Cherie Hunter Day (Snapshot Press, 2006)
Shaped by the Wind, Ferris Gilli (Snapshot Press, 2006)
Swamp Candles, Jack Barry (Down-to-Earth Books, 2006)
long after, Jim Kacian (alba libri, 2008)
All Nite Rain, Jack Barry (Down-to-Earth Books, 2009)

Anything by vincent tripi, a haiku genius. Also, the (many!) little books of John Martone (whom Scott mentioned earlier) have a special magic. Marian Olson recently turned me on to Karma Tenzing Wangchuk’s delightful 90 frogs….

And on it goes.

Okay, I’ll stop (for now). I know Peter probably wants substantive discussion, not just lists. But how to do justice to it all? My feeling remains this collective literature we’re creating is quite rich. And that’s why I enjoy editing Montage.