Michael Dylan Welch and Chuck Brickley, editors.
Press Here, Sammamish, Washington, 2025, 64 pages, 134 poems (one poem each), ISBN 978-1-878798-44-2
Nowhere Else features haiku and senryu by 134 attendees of the 2025 Haiku North America conference, held 24–28 September 2025 in San Francisco, California. Edited by Michael Dylan Welch and Chuck Brickley, this anthology features leading poets writing haiku in English as well as new devotees. The book’s introduction notes that Haiku North America began in 1991, and that “We now welcome a broader spectrum of what haiku can be. The genre continues to grow as a literary art, with an increasing number of journals, events, and engaged poets and readers. . . . Each of us has grown as individual poets, too. This year’s conference celebrates this growth, and an ongoing feeling of gratitude and exploration that affirms our conference theme of discovery.” You can read the entire introduction, see the contributor list, and order the book on Amazon. See also the Press Here page for this book. The following are forty-two sample poems from the anthology, poems that have “nowhere else they need to go.”
夏の空暑しといえど立秋来たる
natsu no sora atsushi to iedo risshū kitaru
autumn has started
in the lunar calendar
―hot summer sky
Akemi Hinoki
Kobe, Japan
modern art gallery
my eyes drawn
to an electrical outlet
Alan S. Bridges
Sudden Valley, Washington
Dr. Seuss turnip—
first this quick sketch
then into the pot
Alison Woolpert
Santa Cruz, California
deep winter
I loosen my scarf
in the sudden sun
Allyson Whipple
St. Louis, Missouri
spring now every puddle a square to hopscotch
Beverly Acuff Momoi
Mountain View, California
afternoon heat
a mother tern drips water
on each egg
Bill Cooper
Naples, Florida
Union Square
the iridescent bobbing
of pigeons
Billie Dee
San Miguel, New Mexico
doors locked
to the building where we met
autumn drizzle
Carolyn Hall
Santa Rosa, California
marsh wind
grasses bend
in the beaver’s mouth
Ce Rosenow
Eugene, Oregon
hometown
the day I become
a visitor
Christine Wenk-Harrison
McKinney, Texas
morning skylight
a book left open
on the stairs
Chuck Brickley
Daly City, California
record pollen
a bouquet offering
after the reading
Crystal Simone Smith
Durham, North Carolina
funeral flight
still moved
by the insides of clouds
Daniel Shank Cruz
Jersey City, New Jersey
old cookbook
the page it naturally opens to
Mother’s Day
David Grayson
Alameda, California
Silent movie
paused until further notice
organ failure
David Lasky
Seattle, Washington
pounding surf
the seagull’s delicate
skull
D. F. Tweney
San Mateo, California
summer dusk
the monkey bars
at rest
Fay Aoyagi
San Francisco, California
sunset swifts
a child’s voice calling
olly olly oxen free
Francine Banwarth
Dubuque, Iowa
heirloom tomatoes
canning
our last summer
Jacob Blumner
Flint, Michigan
fireflies reading under the covers
Jeff Hoagland
Hopewell, New Jersey
drought vigil
the night train’s whistle
full of rust
Jennifer Hambrick
Columbus, Ohio
the shadow of a sweat shop in the folded t-shirt
Jennifer Sutherland
Victoria, Australia
the neighbors’
trees
my shade
John Stevenson
Nassau, New York
don’t worry spiders
I married for love
and have little else to recommend me
Judy Halebsky
Berkeley, California
cutting their heads off grandma’s snapshots
Julie Bloss Kelsey
Germantown, Maryland
backroads diner
the dollar everyone needs
pushed back and forth
Kat Lehmann
Guilford, Connecticut
pending prognosis—
at the back of the closet
unwrapped gifts
kjmunro
Whitehorse, Yukon Territory
パレットの少し乾びて秋立ちぬ
paretto no sukoshi karabite akitachinu
autumn begins
from a palette
slightly dried
Kyoko Uchimura
Tokyo, Japan
aspen leaves . . .
the scent of patchouli
on old bead curtains
Lew Watts
Chicago, Illinois
twilight deepens
the last of the dog walkers
heads home from the park
Linda Papanicolaou
Palo Alto, California
rain turned to snow . . .
my hand on the back
of the just-finished novel
Michael Dylan Welch
Sammamish, Washington
黄泉路いま飛雪にまみれてはゐぬか
yomiji ima hiyuki ni mamirete wa inu ka
road to the nether world
is it now obscured
with flurrying snowflakes?
Mitsue Nikaido
Morioka, Japan
places pop took me—
water under the bridge
at the tea garden
Nathanael Tico
San Francisco, California
maybe a bit
sentimental maybe a bit wild
violets
Patricia J. Machmiller
San Jose, California
haiku retreat
I confer quietly
with the conifer
Richard L. Matta
San Diego, California
Chorus in the icy air:
crows caw,
ravens croak
Robert Hass
Berkeley, California
emptier emptiness—
the day after
cherry blossoms
Robin Palley
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
hometown heat—
someone else’s shape
in the mattress
Sandra Simpson
Tauranga, New Zealand
母むきし蜜柑の薄皮母にむく
haha mukishi mikan no usukawa haha ni muku
peeling the skin
of tangerines as Mom did
. . . for Mom now
Shinko Fushimi
Mito, Japan
North Beach café
a passerby scolds a dog
with our son’s name
Susan Antolin
Walnut Creek, California
conch shell
sound of waves fading
from my ocean visit
Terri Thorfinnson
West Sacramento, California
花の宴君の代はりに夜が来て
hana no en kimi no kawari ni yoru ga kite
cherry blossom viewing
the night came
instead of you
Yukari Saisho
Tokyo, Japan