Haiku Kukai 3 names

Global Haiku • Millikin University • Fall 2018

Jerri's late night diner
home to the drunken nights
and hangover breakfasts

in the empty apartment lies
a receipt—
2 choc malts

cloudless sky
watching darkness
roll in

watching the stage
tears well up
to a life I left behind

third can of red bull
can't keep my eyes
open

forever talking
the gift of gab
is not in his favor

fill up the cup
put on the face
ready or not, the day is here

summer breeze
her baby blues
twinkle like the moonlight

he made her
                feel
like she wasn't alone

labor day weekend sale
working on
my day off

laces undone
I stumble
but stand tall

clenched fist
it holds
what I wish I said

curls cascade past
my eyes
a broken smile

first college party
ends with
four stitches on my brow

college party
she dances
through the pain

warm rays of sunlight
a soft kick
the beginning of motherhood

refund check
deposit on Wednesday
I get to eat

I numb the pain
with another
tattoo

Summer day
leaving the doctor’s office
with another prescription

summer ice cream
I lick between
my fingers

deep blue sky
a young calf
is nurtured by its mother

electro-pop music
and red Solo cups
smoke haze hangs

yellow bike
zooming down a cracked sidewalk
daffodils

war with the mirror
suddenly
            acceptance

divorce
         a boy at the river
finds a stone sticking out of the current

heavy steps
on a rainy morning
her backpack sags lower than usual

scrolling through Instagram
searching tirelessly
for the pretty parts of me

Derek’s death
on Grey’s Anatomy
tears burn calories, right?

college best friend
will you ever see me
with gray hair

quick shallow breath
fingertips to the jugular
please calm down

late late night
my t-shirt smells a bit
like your deodorant

does he like me
or is he just
high . . . "Hi"

I don't know what
to do with my hands . . .
pockets

mare's tail flicks
across the sky . . .
the promise of rain

hoping for a
cozy bathrobe
it's damp

fresh strawberry smoothie
crunch at the bottom
seeds and ice

washing Emercen-C
out of my mug as
I blow my nose

Netflix
red screen fills
a dark dorm room

hearts beating fast
he runs
alongside me

in your eyes
a thousand mysteries from
before you were mine

blue river
she watches his funeral
from the back

too tired for
makeup that morning,
she sees her crush

 

 

 

 

 

deep blue
surfers catch waves
as it lurks underneath

one last swim
down at the lake
family vacation

   no makeup on
you can see me
               clearer

lying on the ground
trying to breathe
thinking of you      and me

fortune telling
through my
pumpkin coffee

somebody I used to know
comes crawling back
shall i stay?

seeing his face
first time in years
delete

date night;
he bought me
band-aids

summer night
barnyard dance
cause Everythings Gonna Be Alright

he throws back another
one too many
liquid courage

long shadows
guide us home
evergreen

tears
don’t take me back
that house isn’t a home

alone in the kitchen . . .
should we steal
from the fridge?

my paint palette
options:
shades of blue

arm around
platonic friend
girlfriend gets mad

dusty fingertips
sift through voices of the past
used record store

mom's yearbook
blonde hair
my smile

crisp October
we trade tank tops
for apple cider

worn-in sofa
retired thirty-something
watches Olympics

young couple
driving into the credits
of our own movie

galaxy churning
with me
smooth as butter

7am
birds discussing
god knows what

nightcrawler
won't you rest
eyes glued shut

dislocated shoulder
fibbing through gritted teeth
I fell down the stairs

drug party cascade
the bluest tongue
wins a prize

golden blonde hair,
piercing green eyes—
let her go

french vanilla candle
slowly burned out—
like what we had.

12th birthday party
squeals as she opens
her first miniskirt

una taza de café,
siesta para siempre—
la vida

break up text
she cuts straight bangs
in a mirror

green grass
tickles my arms
I try to recover

everyone rushes
to the lake house
one last hoorah

spins and spins
blurry room
blurry faces

a crowded room
but somehow
            alone

© 2018, Randy Brooks • Millikin University
All rights returned to authors upon publication.