Haiku and a Cup of Tea

Back in March, Hosho McCreesh sent me a copy of his book Psalms from the Badlands for potential review in Frogpond. Because these short-form poems are inspired by haiku rather than haiku in and of themselves, the editorial team decided not to review the book. We have a set policy of only reviewing work within the spectrum of haiku  (including senryu, haibun, and linked forms), but do not review poetry that falls outside of that. However, I appreciated Hosho’s book so much and admittedly felt bad about not including it, so as a compromise, I decided to post a review here. 

Psalms from the Badlands by Honsho McCreesh. Albuquerque, NM: DrunkSkull Books, 2025. Available starting August 3rd, 2025, at https://www.hoshomccreesh.com/psalms. 

On his website, Hosho McCreesh describes Psalms from the Badlands as “An expansive collection of 150 “psalms” or haiku-like, Japanese-style breath poems about the brutal and beautiful American southwest, with nature as the catalyst for deeper meditations on life, love, grief, loss, and, of course, death.” From poem 1 to 150, you can clearly see his awe of the Southwest, as well as his deep appreciation for haiku and related forms. For example, Poem 21 reads:

The woman’s hands,
watching them peel chile,
the way it still burned days later
in the sunlight—

still burns
years later
in your mind

In my notes, I indicated how close this poem came to a haibun (a prose poem that ends in a haiku). Other poems invoke the long linked form of renku, even in their brevity, such as Poem 80:

Fingers of late spring fog,,
burnt off by morning.

Early July monsoons,
the sunflowers drink deep.

Brittle October stalks,
every drop baked out.

And still it returns
as January snow.

Beyond their connection to the haiku world, this collection does an exceptional job of capturing the landscape and atmosphere of the Southwest in a visceral way. I particularly appreciate that the human element is not removed from these poems, as we are as much a part of the environment as the animals, plants, and weather. Poem 25 is one of my particular favorites in this regard:

Red chile ristra
cleaned of harvestmen
& their cobwebs.

Water boils
red as a
Jemez flood —

Hungry, we wait for
carne adovada.

Ultimately, when reviewing my notes, I don’t find a single disliked poem, or piece that seemed out of step with the broader collection. Psalms from the Badlands is not just an example of exceptional writing, but also a masterful demonstration of how to organize a poetry collection.

As I write this review, I think of recent discussions over at the Poetry Pea podcast about what makes haiku different from short-form poetry that resembles haiku. For those who are interested in that broader discussion, I recommend this book as a way to further one’s understanding of what makes a haiku poem versus a short-form poem inspired by haiku. I do see many elements of haiku in these poems, including shasei (sketch from life) and the sense of a haiku moment. On balance, though, these poems contain more non-haiku elements. That is not a criticism; Hosho McCreesh himself acknowledges that these are not haiku. Yet I think there are short poems that can teach us what haiku is even if they are a different type of poem, and Psalms from the Badlands is full of worthwhile examples. 

Beyond haiku enthusiasts, I recommend this collection to anyone who has a deep and abiding love for Southwest landscapes and literature. I had the pleasure of reading this book while on a recent trip to Albuquerque, and I loved the way these tiny poems helped me further appreciate the vastness of my surroundings. This is also an excellent collection for anyone who loves the ways in which short-form poems in general can be a catalyst for poetic, environmental, or spiritual insight.