Red Moon Press Publishes contemporary haibun 18 Print Anthology

The 18th edition of contemporary haibun—the annual print anthology showcasing a state-of-the-art selection of haibun, tanka prose, and haiga from journals around the world—is now available from Red Moon Press.

The new edition features 97 haibun and tanka prose in a range of styles, from “standard” formats ( a haiku or tanka following one or more paragraphs of prose), to pieces where the prose is replaced by verse, to the increasingly common “braided” style, with the individual lines of the poem interwoven among the prose. Several push against the traditional boundaries and explore new territory, from unique graphical presentations to the introduction of a haiku written entirely in binary language.

The 36 full-color haiga show an equally diverse range; they include classic pen-and-ink illustrations impressionistic paintings and photos, and collages where the haiku merge dynamically with the art.

Whether they’re pushing against boundaries or fitting into more classic formats, the poets and artists in this volume all share one thing: they have something to say, and they’re expressing it well (whether through words or visually).

The editorial team for contemporary haibun 18 was Tish Davis, Terri L. French, Ron Moss (Haiga Editor), Peter Newton, Kala Ramesh, Bryan Rickert, Harriot West, and Rich Youmans.

Priced at $20 U.S., the anthology can be purchased from Red Moon Press.

Three sample selections (haibun, tanka prose, and haiga):

13 Years

By Roberta Beary

since the phone rang daily at 5pm since the card arrived on my birthday since the azaleas needed looking after since the stop at the library for large-print books mysteries mostly since the long cry after inspector morse had his fatal heart attack and we talked about it for days before watching the entire series again from start to finish since i left without looking back and then i did and she gave a little wave from the balcony and ever since i always look because hope is a thing with feathers

mother gone
an egret shapes
the river mist

Weary Blues

By John Zheng

after Eudora Welty’s “Washwoman”

After hanging laundry on the line, the washwoman slumps on the wooden steps, her left hand holding her right elbow as if holding a bottle of tiredness from dropping into painful shards flying in all directions. She needs a moment to breathe, sigh, or hum like the chugging of a distant train. A black-and-white dog crouches beside her, and a striped cat behind her toys with a turtle. The two galvanized washtubs wait to be filled with laundry again.

harvest moon
over stubble fields
its light the tune
of a diddley bow
slowly plucked

Haiga by Katja Fox