Haiku Kukai 03 Favorites
Global Haiku • Millikin University • Fall 2020
1 packing for college |
2 nighttime prairie hike Bryn Sentnor •• |
3 paper cut Sydney Griggs ••• |
4 the frog falls silent |
5 sixth months Sydney Griggs ••• I really like this poem because of the social commentary it is able to provide. I really hope I am interpreting this one correctly! From my perspective, I see the sixth month being June and immediately following June comes the 4th of July. With everything going on in 2020, specifically regarding the Black Lives Matter movement, our usual celebrations looked a little different than usual this year. Because of COVID-19, we were not able to have typical parties, however many people took to the streets to fight the social injustice towards People of Color in the US. In this particular year, the fireworks were replaced with riots and protests and rubber bullets. I think another thing to mention is that the 4th of July is a holiday celebrating this country, but it came at a time where a lot of people lost their patriotism. Kyle Jordan, Fall 2020 |
6 a scroll of leather parchment Bryn Sentnor •• |
7 river flowing red Sydney Griggs •• |
8 ghost? Maggie Kusar •••• |
9 the ant goes marching Micky McNaughton • |
10 wicker basket holds |
11 sunbeams and leaves Micky McNaughton •• |
12 bending strangely |
13 fresh from Grandma's shower Rebecca Murphy •• |
14 funeral dress Rebecca Murphy • |
15 gripping the wheel Sadie Scott ••• |
16 new independence . . . Rebecca Murphy • |
17 staring contest Sadie Scott ••••• That is tough. I love the intensity of this Haiku. It leads me to good memories of afternoons I spent with my friends, playing any kind of silly games, including staring contests, but suddenly it abruptly breaks that with the image of a gun placed right in front of my eyes. I love the way it plays with our brains and tricks us, just to say "Aha! Not so quick! Here I bring you Murder! Adrian Sanchez Rodriguez, FAll 2020 |
18 Prostitution Sadie Scott ••••• •• |
19 aging mile markers |
20 breaking down Stark Winter •• I love this poem. I think the first two lines are spaced out well. Because of the breaks being where they are, I get the feeling of breaking down. Like you're pulling the pieces apart one piece at a time. And then, because the last line combines all the words into one, I get the feeling that those pieces are being put together again. Into something new. The way this poem is structured is smart and effective to me. Very inventive. Sophia Zinger, Fall 2020 |
21 locked in a cage |
22 look in the mirror Nicole Dadoly ••••• ••• I often have feelings of dissociation where I doubt that I'm real and question my existence. I feel out of my body and don't recognize my reflection. It can be pretty scary, and I've never talked about it with anyone because I'm scared nobody will understand. This haiku described the feelings I have. The feelings of confusion, the feelings of doubt. Sadie Scott, Fall 2020 I found this haiku really intriguing because I listen to podcasts on paranormal and psychological theories. One of my favorites is theories on astral projection. It's where the soul leaves the body and a person witnesses things that haven't happened yet or at places where their physical body is not. In some testimonials, people will see the future or see people they have never had the chance to meet. This haiku puts me in that dream-like state, questioning if the things around us are as stable as we believe them to be. The first two lines are very much part of the physical world, but if the future is unknown, the third line brings us into that place surrounding the unknown. Micky McNaughton, Fall 2020 This was definitely one of my favorite poems of the bunch. It honestly gave me goosebumps. I feel like it is so trippy and weird. Who is supposed to be there first? Both people...who are the same person. Wow. Love it. This haiku definitely encapsulates to me exactly what it means to pack a bunch within a poem of such short length. The haiku truly has an interesting form with much opportunity for interesting exploration. Sophia Zinger, Fall 2020 |
23 from blue to red |
24 open prairie Stark Winter •• |
25 lawn chairs Gwen Klinkey • |
26 refrigerator after dark Mara Currens • This haiku was so relatable. Often times I find myself going to the refrigerator in the middle of the night with the hopes of finding something that will satisfy my appetite. However, it always ends the same way. The eclectic variation of food is overwhelming and nothing seems to interest the midnight cravings. As the haiku put it, it feels like drowning in an ocean of food options. Emily Kemp, Fall 2020 |
27 foggy thursday morning |
28 mother and daughter Gwen Klinkey •• |
29 driving through fields |
30 raindrops race Mara Currens ••• This brought be back to the times we would spend in the car on road trips to Wisconsin. My sister and I always sat next to each other in the back, and when it rained, we would each choose a drop of water on our windows to see whose would make it to the bottom of the window first and win the "race. I can't pinpoint when those silly games stopped happening, but they faded into the distance without us ever realizing. Maggie Kusar, Fall 2020 |
31 out of nothing |
32 what if Kyle Jordan • |
33 moving out Kyle Jordan • |
34 flower blooms Emily Kemp ••• |
35 dreary days turns to Emily Kemp • |
36 ghostly images Emily Kemp • |
37 exam hall Binny Tamang •• |
38 closed eyes Danica Brezovar ••• I love this haiku since it reminded me of one of my previous assignments for this class. One of my stories was referring to the times I spent playing the piano in the darkness, as we had very frequent power outages in my hometown. This reminded me of that, as I assume that this person has synesthesia, and I can't stop thinking about how cool it would be to combine this with my piano situation.Adrian Sanchez Rodriguez, FAll 2020 |
39 hair dye Danica Brezovar • |
40 a water bottle cap Danica Brezovar • I find this haiku particularly intriguing. I never knew this experience was something so universal. I still remember when I was younger, I would pretend to be some high-class woman from New York City, drinking coke out of a wine glass and staring out of the kitchen window as if I was watching the city skyline. When you start to actually age, however, you realize and appreciate the simplicity that comes with being a child. I think this haiku captures that feeling well. It's light-hearted, relatable, and enjoyable. Sydney Griggs, Fall 2020 |
41 repacking bags |
42 body hanging— Adrian Sanchez Rodriguez •• |
43 cloudless sky Binny Tamang •• |
44 alcoholic beverage— Adrian Sanchez Rodriguez •••• I loved this haiku because it addresses real topics like Swede's haiku do. I also loved it because it reminded me of this post I saw on a friend's Facebook page with the caption "Normalize sobriety." I choose not to drink for several reasons, one of them being that if I have more than one drink, it makes me feel terrible. I learned this at a Halloween party last year when there was a little too much vodka in my drink. I started to feel dizzy and light headed and disoriented and a little bit nauseous—basically, it was the same feeling I would have had if my blood sugar were high, except that I can fix a blood sugar high within about an hour or two, but I couldn't do anything about how I was feeling after drinking except wait it out. And that sucked because personally, I hate not having control over my own body. Furthermore, drinking is not great for my diabetes. The morning after that party, I woke up with a blood sugar of 58 (for reference, it should be around 100). I did some Googling and learned that consuming lots of alcohol will actually make your blood sugar drop much later. Something about the digestive and/or endocrine system prioritizing processing the alcohol over monitoring the insulin levels or something. Regardless, both of those are completely legitimate reasons to refuse alcohol. And that doesn't make me lame, antisocial, a killjoy, or a party pooper, and it most certainly doesn't make me ‘un-fun.' I am more than capable of having a fantabulous time without being intoxicated. Bryn Sentnor, Fall 2020 |
45 glued to my laptop Adrian Sanchez Rodriguez • |
46 skip-bo could be fun |
47 crickets chirping |
48 three orange butterflies Bryn Sentnor • |
49 fox squirrel |
50 Clairo Sophia Zinger • |
51 it's dark Sophia Zinger • |
52 sunset breeze Sydney Griggs ••••• •• I really liked this haiku. I was really enjoying the first two lines; I closed my eyes and was picturing the best time. Then I remembered there is a third line, so I read it and my jaw dropped. I actually laughed I was so stunned. I loved that twist so much because it went from such a great picture of a loving relationship to a toxic relationship. I imagined a couple sitting out and from the outside everyone thinks this relationship is perfect, but really they feel like he is keeping them down and not letting them live anymore. Danica Brezovar, Fall 2020 This haiku was peaceful throughout for me. I like the thought of a couple spending the day together on the beach, having a picnic, watching the sunset and cuddling. Even though the m dash in the second line does give an abrupt change, I pictured that abruptness as the guy in the scene tossing his partner into the water unexpectedly. Maggie Kusar, Fall 2020 This was a haiku that made me gasp out loud. It thoroughly subverted my expectations, which is something the best haiku do. That subversion added to the terror of the situation the author was in, the sudden loss of air, the sun twinkling above as you panic. There is also such a stark contrast between the feeling of being held by somebody (possibly intimately) and being endangered by somebody. There is also an allegory to this person taking advantage of the author, perhaps in a sexual way. Through this subversion, there is a feeling of trust falling through into terror. I've been thinking of this haiku all weekend. Mara Currens, Fall 2020 |
53 flower graveyard Sydney Griggs • |
54 dancing moonlight Sydney Griggs ••• |
55 running on main street Stark Winter • |
56 suddenly darkened day Stark Winter •••• When reading this poem, I immediately can see the steam rising off of a country blacktop road. It feels like this is one of those days that is super hot and humid days where a midafternoon storm comes through and cools everything off in just fifteen minutes. The sunshine that comes through the clouds at the end of the storm are just absolutely gorgeous. It feels warm, and light, like you should be on a bicycle going for a ride. I love the way that the haiku uses the sound of the rain sizzling on the hot pavement. The other thing I like about this one is the way how the front end of the poem should make the darkness feel present but when I think of this happening, I see the "end" of the story with light. Kyle Jordan, Fall 2020 I love love love thunderstorms, especially in the evening after a hot day. It is the weather equivalent of catharsis. Summer thunderstorms mean dancing in the rain, letting the sweat be washed away with warm water from purple-green clouds. The verb of "sizzles" is especially perfect for this feeling. The very word could encapsulate the entire haiku. It is also left on its own before the final line, letting it sit with you. This haiku smells dank and murky in the best way, and it makes me excited for the next thunderstorm I get to experience. Mara Currens, Fall 2020 |
57 life is a Grant Unruh ••• I really liked this haiku because I think it represents the nature of human angst well. Life has both ups and downs and though sometimes we may want to give up as a result of how hard life can get, the earthly desires we have, either it is our relationships or physical belongings that we adore, might have a tighter hold on us than we know. Even when life gets hard, we have memories that we cherish, and so we hold on to life. I think that's what the seatbelt refers to. We don't want to let go of the desires or ambitions we have since it's the only thing keeping us sane in this irrational world. This haiku in a sense also has a nihilistic tone and resonates well with the casual chant of "I want to die" or "living the dream." Binny Tamang, Fall 2020 |
58 it's wrong to doubt Grant Unruh •••• |
59 i try to Grant Unruh ••• |
60 an old wooden bridge Stark Winter •• This haiku was full of really nice imagery which painted a great picture. It also really got me thinking because it brought into question this idea of permanence. When you look at a river, you never expect to see it dry up because it is so constant and never changing, but it is quite the opposite. Rivers are constantly changing because they go through their own life cycle where they pick up sediment at one part of the river and move it to a different spot which is how rivers get their curves. It is strange how we look at a river thinking it is constant and we build permanent things over and around them, yet they will just dry up eventually. Danica Brezovar, Fall 2020 |
61 clouds crest and dive |
62 nighttime breaths Rebecca Murphy • |
63 conglomeration of ducks Rebecca Murphy • At the risk of sounding cliche, I heavily identify with this haiku. I personally identify myself as an extroverted introvert, so while I still enjoy being around groups of people and doing larger activities, I need time to myself to recharge. Additionally, I do a lot of things on my own, or to the beat of my own tune, and never really considered myself weird for doing so. Large groups aren't for everyone and there's both pros and cons, but I felt this haiku really captured the essence of being the one that sets themself apart. Grant Unruh, Fall 2020 |
64 diagonal rain Mara Currens •• The idea of perspective is fully encapsulated in this haiku. It's almost like saying just because we see two things together does not mean they are directly connected. The causal relationship doesn't always indicate a cause and effect relation. So just because the rain is falling diagonally doesn't mean the sky is tilted. It could be several other factors that we might have forgotten to consider. And similarly, in our lives as well, sometimes we jump to conclusions without considering all the facts, and I think this haiku reflects that. Binny Tamang, Fall 2020 |
65 his touch on my ankle Mara Currens •• |
66 quack quack Rebecca Murphy •• This haiku was just silly and fun and playful and that's why I loved it. It also has a twinge of mystery. Like, well, if it's not a duck, then what is it? Is it a goose? Is it your friend making duck noises? It is your phone because you're weird and have it set to the duck ringtone? What else goes ‘quack quack??!' Bryn Sentnor, Fall 2020 |
67 steps on the trail Grant Unruh ••• |
68 the men in suits Sadie Scott ••••• ••• |
69 I sleep with Sadie Scott •• |
70 i pause walking Grant Unruh •••• |
71 birdwatching Grant Unruh ••• This haiku gives a unique perspective on an activity I often attribute to people who enjoy nature and are somewhat more in tune with it. Birdwatching, to me, seems like an activity that would bring you closer, as you begin to understand the actions and lives of the birds you see. However, the author's idea that this doesn't make you one of them is true, and probably more shocking to me than it should be. Humans will always be the outsiders, no matter how much we want to fly with the birds. Stark Winter, Fall 2020 There is a phrase that I have seen recently that gives off the same vibes as this haiku, it says that bird watching goes both ways. My interpretation led me to connect these two as similar in thought. Because humans choose to ostracize ourselves from other species, there is a deep disconnect with nature. It seems that we try to bridge this gap by observing nature in an objective way, like birdwatching. But we forget that species can also perceive us and to them we are the outsiders who choose to separate ourselves from nature. Emily Kemp, Fall 2020 |
72 expiration date Sadie Scott ••• I imagine myself walking through one of the graveyards that is by my old high school. I wander for a while just looking at names and years. I try to imagine who these people were. I empathize with those that they left behind. Words like "loving mother make me frown. I take time just being humbled by death and life. Rebecca Murphy, Fall 2020 |
73 ink on a page Maggie Kusar • |
74 tsp, TBSP, cup Micky McNaughton ••• I like that this haiku reads like a recipe. It starts with all the main ingredients, measured out in perfect quantities, and then goes into the other details. The colon in the second line also adds to that style of reading, since most recipes have a list-like format for the ingredients and for the individual steps. The secret ingredient being love made me smile—when I bake, I feel like the most special part is thinking about how happy the recipient of my baking will be with their gift. Maggie Kusar, Fall 2020 |
75 let's run away— Micky McNaughton ••• This is literally my plan for the future. I plan to grow up and move to New Zealand and work on a vocational visa at a college and be the mysterious American professor. Maybe I can be the one with the sexy accent . . . I also really like that the author used sheep because it reminds me of the Scottish Highlands and I LOVE Outlander and my second choice for running away is the Scottish Highlands. Gwen Klinkey, Fall 2020 |
76 road rage Micky McNaughton •• My sister and I drive around a lot together and both of us get pretty bad road rage, so there tends to be a lot of passive aggressive language as well as swearing. I took a job as a night time truck driver this summer and that DID NOT go away for me. If anything it got way worse. But I love driving and so the sailor's mouth has just kind of become part of the charm of driving with me. Gwen Klinkey, Fall 2020 |
77 heavy |
78 yoga mat |
79 honey moon |
80 staccato silence Emily Kemp ••• I thought this kaiku was very well-versed in its music vocabulary and creates an interesting mood and tone. Staccato, in music, is when a note is sharply detached or off from the other notes in the piece. I thought that the juxtaposition of silence with staccato was really interesting, especially since it's the note that breaks everything down. Additionally, the middle line of just "severed" created a harsh image with its word choice, creating an abrupt sense that things don't seem to be flowing well. Whether this is a metaphor for an argument or a musical performance not going well, I'm not sure. Either way, very interesting to me. Grant Unruh, Fall 2020 |
81 reflective glass Emily Kemp • This poem is interesting to me. I wonder what it really means to have reflective glass rippled by the wind. How does that happen? What does that really mean? I'm not quite sure the answers to these questions but I do think that the imagery is cool. I can imagine rainbows being reflected by the glass and flickering in the wind. I hope that is what the author had in mind. Sophia Zinger, Fall 2020 |
82 family dinner Sydney Griggs •• With this haiku I imagined a middle-aged woman sitting with her second glass of wine. Her daughter sits across from her and her soon-to-be ex-husband sits next to her. It is tense because the parents are only interacting for the sake of their daughter. They are no longer in love and the pain of it all looms over their large dining room table. Rebecca Murphy, Fall 2020 |
83 pillow mausoleum Sydney Griggs ••••• I like the juxtaposition of the words "pillow" and "mausoleum". If I ever start a band, I'm definitely stealing it as our band name. Immediately the contradictory nature of these words draws you in. Then in two more lines, it's clear why these two words were put together. The two words at the beginning carry more weight than I ever could've predicted. Sadie Scott, Fall 2020 I find it so odd that we can never fully remember our dreams, only in bits and pieces. However, most dreams are nonsensical and abstract, leaving us without a reason to even remember them. What this haiku really is about, though, is our aspirations. We often leave our dreams for the future behind because we are often too afraid of failing, letting our aspirations die on our pillows. When reading this, I immediately felt a sort of melancholy, that I was leaving a part of myself behind. I also love the word "mausoleum: which means tomb. It is almost like we build up our dreams to be something beautiful but we let them die, knowing that we could've lived a better, more exciting life. Mara Currens, Fall 2020 |
84 what once held magic Emily Kemp •• I see this haiku as focusing on the shift from childhood to a later stage of life. I see the fairy hut, gleaming with magic and life, slowly turning back into nothing more than a knot in a tree, or a set of sticks woven together, or something a child's mother hid to surprise the child. The magic is all gone, and the hut is dark to the child. The narrator's sense of magic has crumbled, and their childhood has gone with it. I do enjoy that there's no period to close off the haiku, though, since there could always be more to the story after this. Stark Winter, Fall 2020 My sister and I used to play in this set of bushes right outside of our parents' window, but as we grew taller we couldn't fit under them any more. I'm in charge of mowing the lawn now and I always get sad while I drive by because they've been naturally filling in the space where we used to play in due to the lack of use. Is this what parents feel like? Gwen Klinkey, Fall 2020 |
85 childhood meadow |
86 paws on my back |
87 breathe Sophia Zinger •• |
88 did we Danica Brezovar ••• |
89 a voice Danica Brezovar • |
90 he floats |
91 a short walk Danica Brezovar • |
92 tea, friends Gwen Klinkey • |
93 flowers speak Gwen Klinkey •••• |
94 walking around campus Adrian Sanchez Rodriguez • I like this haiku for many reasons. Firstly, I think it captures that feeling of paranoia that many of us have given the current circumstances. There really is no way for any of us to tell whether or not others are following the guidelines meant to keep us safe. When those moments of suspicion come, it can bring with it some degree of worrying. Also, I think I was there with the writer on the Friday night that is being described in the haiku (though I could be wrong). It's just interesting for me to be able to revisit a specific moment through this haiku. It makes it easier to form a bit of a personal connection with the piece. Sydney Griggs, Fall 2020 |
95 no mother Kyle Jordan •• I loved how even though this is just a simple rebuttal to a parent's statement, there's so much passion and indignance infused within. The air quotes really show the adult's perspective on the matter, while the accused child in this instance defends their stance. It can hurt, being told that one's mannerisms are odd/not correct and are just temporary. Regardless of how their behavior might play out, it's never fun to be discredited by your own parents. People feel how they feel, plain and simple. Grant Unruh, Fall 2020 |
96 no mom Nicole Dadoly • |
97 empty parking lot Kyle Jordan |
98 tumbleweed— |
99 the park at dark |
100 whispered dawn Mara Currens • |
101 planning our futures Rebecca Murphy ••••• I really connected with this one because one of the most comforting things in the world to me is to lay on the floor. For some reason I feel like I can think clearer and make better decisions when I am there. Something about being grounded and not having any extra stimuli, I guess. It seems like a situation I could be in at some point. Having deep conversations laying on the ground is probably the best place. Danica Brezovar, Fall 2020 |
102 bathroom mirror, 3 AM Mara Currens •••• This haiku got to me with its structure. The words have a great impact, but the pauses that are created with the structure brings all the more emotion into it. I can see myself looking in the mirror physically tearing at myself in an infamous late-night mental breakdown. I feel the rhythm of the lines. I see a sort of dance in this haiku; the physicality of ripping and the meter of the lines paints a clear, live image of choreography in my head. Most of all, the line breaks give the haiku a breath of angsty air. Micky McNaughton, Fall 2020 |
103 the sky starts crying |
104 I descend— Mara Currens ••• Once Mara explained the reason she wrote the poem, I saw this poem with new light. I loved it before, loved the use of the Greek character. Now I see I was so wrong to romanticize it. Persephone descended into the depths of hell because of circumstances she could not control. She was abducted by Hades, abducted by darkness and hurt. She had to leave Earth so that spring could come. Sometimes when you are depressed, you believe in your mind that everyone will be happier with your absence. It's not true. Spring came, but Persephone's mother grieved still. Sadie Scott, Fall 2020 |
105 winter sunrise |
106 packing my life Nicole Dadoly |
107 hey alexa Nicole Dadoly •• Jon Bellion is my absolute favorite artist of all time. He isn't quite as well-known as he probably should be. This song is talking about how he gets sick and tired of being human and trying to be who other people expect him to be. The bridge of this song says, "See I got GPS on my phone, And I can follow it to get home, If my location's never unknown, Then tell me why I still feel lost, Tell me why I still feel lost." This song in particular got me through some rough times right after high school graduation when I was trying to finalize college plans and what I wanted to do in life. Clearly, I was pretty indecisive until right before I got here because I changed my major before I even made it to lunch on the very first day of classes last year. In a nutshell, the song is about hoping to make the right decisions and the anxiety that comes with the consequences if you make the wrong choice. Kyle Jordan, Fall 2020 |
108 the tree and i Micky McNaughton ••• This haiku sounds so...spooky? The words seem to imply that the writer is somewhere hidden behind a tree, eclipsed in shadow. They just watch their old lover holding hands with someone new. Reading it the first few times, it almost seemed innocent as though they were watching by accident or they were already there for other reasons. But after a few readings, I can't help but to imagine them watching from behind the tree. It could really be read either way, but the creepier interpretation is something that sticks with me. Sydney Griggs, Fall 2020 |
109 the smell of chlorine Micky McNaughton •• I actually remember the original version of this haiku. It was good, but it didn't blow me away. It was: grilled cheese and chlorine The new and improved version paints a much more vivid picture in my mind! It's so much more ‘show-don't-tell' with the sensory details, and I love the touch of the indentation on the last line – it's like the side of grilled cheese is really on the side! So cute. And of course, there's a little bit of end rhyme that makes it just a touch cuter. Love it. Bryn Sentnor, Fall 2020 |
110 they look like ants down there— Sadie Scott • |
111 words wrestle Kyle Jordan ••• |
112 struggling to coexist Binny Tamang ••••• What I like about this haiku is that, without really saying it, it questions the stupidity of humans. I think that the author did a phenomenal job with the structure, as it starts by stating there's something wrong with a species, the emphasizes that that species are supposed to be very smart by just leaving "the smartest in the second line, and then implies that we might not even be the smartest creatures on the universe, as the planet earth is the location specified in the third line.Adrian Sanchez Rodriguez, FAll 2020 I thought that the message of this haiku was extremely profound, especially in the simplistic format of a haiku. We have seen ourselves as the superior species for so long, and have believed the human race to be above such frivolous conflicts. Yet, now more than ever we see that coexisting is about more than just having higher intelligence. It just goes to show that no matter the species, there will always be unresolved struggles. Emily Kemp, Fall 2020 |
113 dappled paths |
114 open arms b r e a t h e Maggie Kusar •• When I read this poem I imagined a couple of things. At first I saw a young woman who steps outside, reaches her arms out, and takes a deep breath of fresh air. In this pandemic I have found a lot of joy in breathing outdoor air when I can. The second thing I thought about with this poem is an acting strategy. When someone is too closed off in a showing something that can help is opening their arms and core and just taking some breaths. It is a vulnerable position but it also feels healing.Rebecca Murphy, Fall 2020 |
115 curly hair |
116 I walk alone Sadie Scott ••• |
117 dandelion wine Binny Tamang •••• I should start by being honest: I have no idea what dandelion wine is. I hear it referenced every so often, but I don't know if it's a product, a homemade elixir, or something else. This haiku is one of my favorites regardless, because of its word choice, and its overall atmosphere. It feels like looking back into old memories and seeing a glimpse of something you haven't thought about in decades. A good memory, probably with another person (my mind says a picnic on a hill). The entire scene is bathed in gold and green, as it fades out. The words expand on that, with "exquisite" (what an exquisite word!), oblivion (it really contrasts the memory), and even the transition as it fades out. This haiku makes me think of great times, without needing to get too specific. Stark Winter, Fall 2020 I looked up dandelion wine and the first thing that came up was how to make it at home. There were quite a few recipes. It reminds me of the song "Lilac Wine" by Jeff Buckley, especially the lyrics "why is everything so hazy? Isn't that she, or am I going crazy, dear?" I felt the fading of the world as the wine took over. I also loved the choice of the word "exquisite." I imagine homemade wine is not quite exquisite, but is it the wine that is making the memory so elegant? I also see someone from the prohibition era losing their memory of how to make dandelion wine as they get older and as their need to make fades. Micky McNaughton, Fall 2020 |
© 2020, Randy Brooks • Millikin University
All rights returned to authors upon publication.