“If you think nothing could be more technicolor, juicy, and full of signifiers come to life than Los Angeles, you have not met (or read) NAOMIE ANOMIE. These voluptuous neon lyrics bring you from the infinite loop of its first circular poem into ‘megatons of ocean’ to the gut kick of ‘you don't know what things are until you break them.’ The taking of the innate, the floral, the paradisiacal—the arrival of Cook in Hawai'i—this violence is at the heart of Hasegawa’s poems. In such a world, there’s nowhere to look: sun-dried remnants of narrative, disembodied voices. The father in the poems, he combs ‘the white curls / steaming from / the forest floor.’ You stay on the ride and the poet says, ‘Psychopomp, ferry her.’”
— Cynthia Arrieu-King, author of "Manifest," winner of the Gatewood Prize
“References of resentment, both residual and retired, ritualistic and religious, yet refereeing research that remains real. A reckoning of reality without resisting alien ghosts. Resolution or revolution? No, redemption. Hasegawa continues the lineage of Kazuko Shiraishi but with the absence of linear time as in Shuri Kido.”
— Shinji Eshima, the composer of the quintet, "Hymn for Her"
"Hasegawa looks me dead in the eye and paints surreal scenes with a magical matter-of-factness that drags me through time and place like Hector behind the horse cart. Don’t resist. You’ve worked hard enough today. Let her words wrap around your ankle and sweep you off to places you didn’t know you didn’t know—places too scary for nightmares and places so sweet that it hurts that they’re imagined."
— Sunk Coast, musician and composer of the album "I felt the urge to push my hair to the side"
“'there is an expectation and you must break from it to enter'—from these twelve words first encountered in Naomie Anomie, Hasegawa beckons us into a world of surreal code where fairy tale braids with Buddhist spirituality, quantum science and geomorphology, to weave a realm of delightful absurdity. Through thrilling, deft stanzas that echo like the voice of a white rabbit falling headlong beside us, Hasegawa leads us down, down, down, in an intimate tango with memory, familial history and kinship until we emerge, changed."
— Ellen Chang-Richardson, author of "Blood Belies"