Global Haiku • Fall 2021
Dr. Randy Brooks

About the author:

My name is India Guerrero, and I am from Pontiac, IL. I am a senior biology/pre-physician assistant major at Millikin University where I am a member of Tri-Delta, Tri-Beta, and Alpha Lambda Delta. Outside of writing haiku I like to longboard, watch cartoons, hike, and relax with friends and family.

Raspberry Jam

by
India Guerrero

The title of this haiku book comes from the first haiku I ever wrote. It was about both a memory and tradition that I share with my mom. Most of my haiku reflect moments and experiences in my life, so I thought it was fitting to draw inspiration from that specific haiku for my title. When I write haiku I reflect on the beautiful and extremely difficult moments of my life, and write based on those memories. Sometimes I create a scenario that I think would be particularly poetic, but my general format revolves around my own experiences. So, as you read this book, you are experiencing memories, thoughts, and commentary on life through my eyes.

This book is made with love and dedicated to my friends and family who inspired these haiku. Enjoy!

homemade raspberry jam
and warm crepes
happy birthday

long weekend
my dad
teaches me how to fight

yellowing recipe card
instructions
from a ghost

grandma’s kitchen
childhood stories
told in a southern drawl

prayer candle
for sale
never used

Grandfather’s favorite jacket
the smell of cigarettes
that won’t come out

antique store
a mirror
who’s known many faces

birthday party
dancing with Judas
blindsided

bringing the groceries in
shit.
forgot bread

Mercury retrograde
oddly
I talk too much

sherbet sunset
we drink wine
on the roof

looking at you
the Earth could swallow us
and I wouldn’t notice

Broadway
a man walks barefoot
past the boot shop

red, orange, yellow
leaves cover the ground
Captain Crunch

Saturday night football
a drunk coed
trips over the bleachers

Taurus full moon
coyly playing peek-a-boo
between wispy midnight clouds

sheer stockings rolled down
moonlight creeps in
bathing her bare skin

lone headlights on a winding road
inky black mountains
silently keep watch

driving through the storm
suddenly the glint of eyes
in my backseat

I don’t believe in god
but thank you
for praying for me

rushing to the shore
to give me a cheeky kiss
moonlight illuminating each wave

mountain pathway
his grip around my heart
loosens. at last.

Biology Haiku

local dive bar
neon flashing sign
keystone species

ruminating
on your last words
all choked up

forest neighbors
holding hands underground
mycelium

winding the bobbin
on mother's sewing machine
flexing my sartorius

your words strike me
exactly where it hurts the most
fontanelles