Global Haiku • Spring 2022
Dr. Randy Brooks

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GwenolynKlinkey
Gwenolyn Klinkey

Gwen Klinkey is a Junior from the Chicago suburbs majoring in English Literature and Professional Writing and minoring in History. She is an avid reader, writer, and crafter. Beyond college, Gwen plans to pursue a Doctorate and teach at the collegiate level. She hopes to work in the growing field of Digital Literature and enjoys learning about alternative forms of literature.

 

 

Under the Willow

by
Gwenolyn Grace Klinkey

Although I love writing haiku, I can't help feeling like the origins of many of mine is kind of embarassing. I'm a homebody and an introvert, so most of my haiku come from imagined things. I do this thing that I call "delusion journaling" where I pretend that I'm me, but completely different. I write long journal entries, make complete storylines, scrapbook, and write letters to different people that are around me in that space that I've created. It is cathartic for me to write haiku about these imagined situations and I tend to get a little melodramatic and what some may call "emo."

Other than those imagined haiku, I write about my childhood or the complicated relationship that I have with my family, but that normally ends up creating really sad or angsty haiku which function more for my own purposes than being a pleasant or meaningful experience for readers. Still, some of the less personal and private haiku are included in this collection.


budding tulips
her stomach swells
with the rivers


corpses
the cherry blossoms fall
anyways


first date
your sweaty hands
wilt a bouquet of cornflowers


fennel and fern—
bubbling soup on the stove
a witch’s love potion


childhood friends
cave drawings on
Facebook walls


sticky homemade lemon bars:
you make them too sour
just the way I like


ocean water eats
the rotting dock
learning how to fish


tin can
if I stare long enough
maybe I’ll see my future


missing her:
          potato soup, home-made hats, and old cigarettes


push-up bra and lipstick
putting glitter under our eyes
college party chic


the sting of disinterest
I miss
missing you


2003 Honda Civic
he drives me
to the stars 


our fingers clasped
metal against metal
the privilege of being yours


shoes left in the garage
playing hopscotch
with melted snow


wisteria tear-drops
under the willow
I am forever yours


© 2022, Randy Brooks • Millikin University
All rights returned to authors upon publication.