This issue of Upstate Dim Sum has an aura unlike anything we
have sought or anticipated in the past. After twenty-three years
of creative collaboration, we are publishing the last new poems
from our beloved friend, Hilary Tann. She left this world on
February 8th. Words fail us in this moment. And words have
been among our chief solaces before this time. In days to come
we may feast upon memories of the many meals we have shared
at Tai Pan, in Maine, in Ithaca and in Hilary’s home, the Marshall
House. But, for a while at least, we find it hard to be anything
but shocked and amazed.
We plan a celebratory look at Hilary’s haiku in the next issue,
rather than a guest poet selection. For now, one of Hilary’s poems
from this issue has been more articulate about our current state
than we can be on our own behalf. This poem was written with
her husband, David, in mind. He had been in home hospice care
for more than five months.
fumbling
with tenses
for his obituary
ht
ht
David followed Hilary ten days after her death.
Alexis Rotella, when asked what she would like us to say in summary of her stellar career in English-language haiku, replied,
“I’ve been writing haiku since 1979. I don’t know what else to
add.” I would only add that Alexis was already a central figure in
the North American haiku movement for many years before any
of us came to haiku. We have all benefited from her influence,
whether directly or through intermediate sources.
js
Sample poems
Crammed between
two skyscrapers
Harvest Moon
Alexis Rotella
historic house
new stories from
the woodwork
ht
when the words are gone
the poetry
will still be here
js
morning prayer
the smooth marble folds
of her robe
ms
sunset
her head
on my shoulder
yc
deep sleep
within a dream
there you are
tc
Upstate Dim Sum 