EN340
/ IN350 Global Haiku Tradition
Dr. Randy Brooks
Spring 2005 |
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TANGLED
HAIR
A collection of Haiku
by
Rachel
Walker
My
haiku are mostly based on memories. I write about memories from
the distant and recent past. I actually have a fairly inaccurate
memory, I only retain generalities and not specific details.
I found it necessary to add to and embellish my memories to
fill out my haiku. In doing this, the haiku are transformed.
The haiku are no longer about me and my life, but they have
turned into a narrative about what could be. These haiku are
stories of my alter ego.
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Every
Friday we walk to my car. Each time I almost ask her
what she is going to do. I want to suggest she look
for a job in town, but I dont think it is my place.
Last semester we barely talked and now it seems like
we are together 18 hours a day. There is a long pause,
and I feel we are both thinking about graduation. We
talk about the new nickel design instead. We get to
my car and I turn on the radio.
radio
blasting
you leave me
wondering about summer
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humid
night
I empty my purse
looking for the house keys |
laying
on the grass
tree branches above us
we talk about fall
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I
cast off, just like we practiced. The boat Grandpa
rented for the summer is green and rickety. I was
scared when I first got on the boat. Grandpa assured
me it is safe but I am still skeptical. I tighten
my red life jacket firmly before I get on. We are
out in the middle of the lake, the motor is still
hot from the trip out. We sit quietly and wait.
I feel a sharp tug on my line and Grandpa shouts,
Reel in!
first
catch
he teaches me
how to clean the fish |
tangled
hair
my mother
tries to fix the doll
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moving
box
I carelessly place
the doll in the bottom |
new
doll
my older cousin
still wont play with me
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I
asked Jim if his parents are coming to his show
and he replied with a shrug. I wondered why he was
unsure of their attendance and asked Arent
they excited to see your work? He replied
that they were never enthusiastic about his work.
I thought of my parents and their enthusiasm about
seeing my paintings. I asked him if their apathy
bothered him, he said Im used to it.
absent
parents
I try
to fill the void |
lost
necklace
you tell me
it is by your bed
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you
lift me up
I beg you
not to drop me |
holding
hands
I carefully
step over the fallen tree
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I
direct his aunt to the room he is in. She doesnt
know who I am but I was able to guess she is his
aunt. Her face looked like his, two teenage boys
were with her. They thanked me for showing them
to the room and I smiled and headed back to the
refreshment table. Refilling the punch I wait for
the rest of his family to show up. They finally
arrive and He acts as if I am not there. Forty-five
minutes later I am still refilling the punch.
meeting the parents
you forget
to introduce me
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©2005
Randy Brooks, Millikin University, Decatur, Illinois || all rights reserved
for original authors
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