Global Haiku • Fall 2019
Dr. Randy Brooks

Don't Double Debit

by
Jonathan Kuebler

Before studying haiku over the past 4 months as a student at Millikin University, my only knowledge about haiku was that it consisted solely of three lines of syllables in a 5-7-5 pattern. I was not very fond of it, because every time I thought of something meaningful it never fit the requirements. I was unaware of the near limitless possibilities that haiku offered me. Haiku could be anything I wanted it to be as long as it fit in 3 lines. My poor attempts at writing haiku came from every aspect of my life. Within these covers you will find haiku from my memories, imagination, current experiences, and dreams. When I was writing haiku, whatever came into my mind found itself expressed on the page. Haiku gave me freedom to write about what I thought I should.

I chose this collection of haiku because it captures the parts of me that I think are worth showing, whether good or bad. It is what I am. The title Don’t Double Debit is a phrase I think a lot about. Double debiting is an accounting term meaning to write the same number in the debit side of the column twice. What it does is it makes you think you have more money than you actually do. The meaning behind this is what is important. This collection of haiku shows exactly what I have and what I do. It is important to be humble and be thankful for what you do have, not to be obsessed over what you do not have and think you are bigger than what you really are. The same goes for the book. It is merely a simple collection of three lines of words. Nonetheless, I am thankful I learned about haiku, and for what is in these pages.

About the Author

Jonathan Kuebler, a 20-year-old sophomore accounting student from Columbia, Illinois, enjoys playing soccer and hanging out with his friends. As a quiet person, most of Jon’s haiku come from observing the world around him, or his own experiences.

grocery store
oh donuts!
What was I looking for?

fields of green
a sunflower
stands above the rest

pasta in the pot
the water vanishes
like the memories I forgot

a new pair of shoes
can’t run away
from my problems

colored pens on the desk
everyone uses
black or blue

she lost
her favorite lipstick
on my cheek

bitch
a compliment
I never thought I would hear

a piece of turf sticks to me
one in a million
I see her in the stands

crescent moon in the dark night sky
rarely seeing
the full picture

open corn field
a luxury mansion
for field mice

white belly of a hawk
alone on a bare branch
waiting. . .

cars on the interstate
forever thinking
this was built for war

Spring thunderstorm—
dark clouds booming
tax-season looming

double debit
I love you
were just words spoken

sunrise
unzipping the tent
my father awakes me

Black Friday
I commit sins with my debit card
bank reconciliation