Book-of-the-Week

Book of the Week: a hill without a name

lahaye_ahillwithoutanamecoverross la haye, like many a haiku friend we have known across the years, showed up one spring or summer or autumn/winter issue, lingered a few years, left a few notes describing his circumstances, gathered them into a collection like this one (Old Man Press, 1998), and then moved on. This is a perfectly normal process, but of all the normal processes in the haiku world, this is the one that has always struck me with the most sadness. At least in this instance we have a record of the brief encounter.

You can read the entire book in the THF Digital Library.

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Haiku featured in the Book of the Week Archive are selected by Jim Kacian, following a concept first explored by Tom Clausen, and are used with permission.


          spring   stars
                  my breath
obscuring them


spring afternoon
   over the empty parking lot
      graveldust swirling


spring sunset
   the cardinal’s descended into
      descending into it


summer heat   digging deeper
  and deeper and still chinking
    the buried brick


summer morning
      on the library floor   leaving
   some rain i’ve taken in


summer morning
      blanketing the river   misst
   the river is

This Post Has 2 Comments

  2. I didn’t have the privilege of knowing his work, but must have come across it over those brief years.

    .

    re:
    “…this is the one that has always struck me with the most sadness.”
    .

    I am so glad his book is here.

    .

    I wonder what relation Alicia Fernandez had with Ron or Ross La Haye, beyond the illustration?
    .
    It really is a magical book, and just shows how longer haiku (as seen by today) still gives a tingle of excitement.
    .
    .
    This has extra spaces and indents that won’t appear in my post alas…

    at the window
    again and again the fly
    bumping spring dusk
    .
    .
    fall morning
    cold wind running through
    the raccoon’s fur

    .
    .

    (For Rod Willmot)
    .
    winter’s depths
    cold lifting my
    razorblades again
    .
    .
    winter morning passing
    through Frog Station snow holds
    the sign the sign holds
    .
    .
    Back to Summer
    .
    summer morning
    blanketing the river mist
    the river is
    .
    .
    And Ross La Haye is too, an extraordinary talent, giving us an extraordinary book, thank you.
    .
    warm regards,
    Alan

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