8 Kukai - Final Kukai

Global Haiku • Millikin University • Fall 2014

time to break
the wishbone
i get the short end

two wishbones
by the sink

time to be thankful
but i can’t help but know
what’s missing.

people rioting
glad i didn't
go black Friday shopping . . .

don't oppose violence
with violence
do it with love

That's what they call us.
     We're more than gunshots.

watching scary movies
just to hold
her hand

reading into
every detail
to bring him justice.

I give thanks to his doctor
his rightful spot
he sits at dinner

greeting cards
have all been sent
. . . crap no they haven't

bumper to bumper
staring into the
dark abyss

deleting facebook friends
draining the water
from macaroni

slobbery dog kisses

the birds
trapped in Menards
make nests too

sibling car ride
with the radio

grumpy cat
not just an animal
but a role model

I stalk them

how many watts is that smile?
as it warmed me,
feet in a pile of snow

garage floor
filled with sawdust . . .
ladder on the floor

my daughter's trash can
filled with love letters
never sent

my friends' laughter
smiling, I glance over;
the man who broke me

comfy sweaters—
souls warmed by

a pint shared in
the snowstorm
Ben and Jerry's

he told me to
forget about Monday—
sun warms our skin

underneath cover
of quilts and each other
home is where

             my heart is

happy thoughts
my heart on wings
                  n      g
          y   i

      H O H C H
  C N C C N C
  O C H H

the cold feel
watching the drawing
this henna daisy

How could you?
he's not good for you
blood sucking l(iar)eech

cherry syrup,
your red stained

first snowfall
the weatherman
more excited than me

looking in the mirror
finally comfortable
in her his body

a reflection in the mirror
my own worst

    get out—
    words fly
    like darts
     U         E
   L             Y
     L        E



growing deadly nightshade;
I didn't want this to be

another lesson

cold bedside;
preferable over a warm body
+ cool heart.

a walk once
now completely frozen

little feet running
snowman doll
Ilsa and Olaf

cheesy happy endings
and bad acting
ah, there you are Lifetime

woke up, dry throat
choked on the words I didn't say
the night before

too many classes
when did my floor
become clothing

sky diving
landing softy
in your arms

autumn wind
crushes on girls
i can't love

a friendship bracelet
hanging from a nail

should I wear
boots or sandals
Mother Nature is on her period

the city reflected
on the lake,
in my eyes

neighboring bunk-beds
we recreate
the Creation of Adam

sunset porch
she plays with my hair
head in her lap

I won't apologize
for my taste in music
country girl from birth

high strung and wound up
she twirls on command
jewelry box ballerina

sunday morning
perched on the doorframe
one blue sock

after mass
the eternal flame
a lone light

tossing pennies
into the stream
days gone by

college bank account
can't even pay
. . . attention

what you feen for
is your demise
the irony . . .

laundry day
gold stars
in the lint trap

heading home
songs shuffle
that I don't know

mother and daughter
connected by heart
now permanent ink

art museum
trying to understand
Duchamp's Fountain

   h   o   u   r   s   later
blur into skyscrapers

19 & married;
I asked if it felt like playing House

snowflakes decorate my eyelashes ever so softly

that pretty face under snowy fingertips smiled and I loved it forever

evening chill
a romantic dinner
in the picture window

unsure of what to do
               she scratches out
her dreams

they tried to bury me
guess they didn't know
I was a seed

lighting the candlewick
burning me up
then putting me out

tucked in a corner—
how will I know
when love finds me?

drinking Jenga
my date drinks,
when I drink

he liked my coffee more
because it had touched my lips

frisbee in the park
long past sunset
that summer

night driving
an intimate goodbye

even in the city
shooting star

my dreams are in
front of me but then
I open my eyes

the sturdy queen
more deadly than a king
check mate

high-pitch giggling girls
I take off my shirt
in the bathroom stall

alone in the dark
speaking in
our own language

"a boob job won't fix everything,"
spoke Experience

New Year's Eve
steaming tea
warms my fingers

© 2014, Randy Brooks • Millikin University
All rights returned to authors upon publication.