Haiku Kukai 4 Fall Break Kukai

Global Haiku • Millikin University • Fall 2015

lightning blue eyes
always
after I cry

 

the smell
of hardwood
I have returned home

on clean sheets
wispy tumbleweeds
of husky hair

a movie together,
I look over . . .
everyone's asleep

 

wishing I could sleep
for a few more minutes
. . . or days . . . or forever

autumn breeze
the warm breath
that shakes the leaves

history repeating itself
I become the artist
that once was

doing my sister's hair
while checking my brother’s homework
big sister's home

Pepsi-trailer chicken coop
driving down
forested back roads

one click to start
another to end
       —noobs—

 

old friends reunite
creepy pizza man
delivers

her hands cover
her welled up eyes
Miscarriage

as I sit next to you
names I won’t remember
“Oh, so you’re the girlfriend?”

 

I can hear her voice
“I miss you.”
through a lit up screen

catching up
over pizza
words like toppings

screaming along
to Taylor Swift
stars in the sky and in the car

 

the streetlight
outside my window
hums me to sleep

the parking lot embrace
the hug, kiss
long overdue

next episode in
10 . . . 9 . . . 8 . . .
oh what the heck. play.

 

my parents scold me
once again
no phones at the table

orange furball
steals my heart
her squeaky meow

sweating through
2 shirts
first practice

 

waking after midnight
I forgot
to turn on the heat

step through the door
fall on the couch
give me a minute

mountains of clothes
brought back to school
in neat piles

 

three hours in the car
I think I like you
another kiss before we stop

I put a sweater on
my own breath
hangs around

scary movie night
blonde hair
all over the place

 

standing alone
against the darkness:
Red Warrior

my hand in yours
a feeling
I will never replace

low grumbles
readjusting—
wet nose against my arm

 

Big Tex
standing tall
watching over the fairground

the bottom of my cup
isn't as pink as I thought it'd be
refill please!

© 2015, Randy Brooks • Millikin University
All rights returned to authors upon publication.