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.


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 don’t 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


humid night
I empty my purse
looking for the house keys


laying on the grass
tree branches above us
we talk about fall


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


moving box
I carelessly place
the doll in the bottom


new doll
my older cousin
still won’t play with me


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 “Aren’t 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 “I’m used to it”.

absent parents
I try
to fill the void


lost necklace
you tell me
it is by your bed


you lift me up
I beg you
not to drop me


holding hands
I carefully
step over the fallen tree


I direct his aunt to the room he is in. She doesn’t 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

©2005 Randy Brooks, Millikin University, Decatur, Illinois || all rights reserved for original authors