haiku no. 372

Squatting and hunching—

my children dig holes in dirt,

uncovering spring.

~Guillermo Delgado
no. 372, Guillermo Delgado, 2013

no. 372, Guillermo Delgado, 2013

haiku no. 371

Slicing through March winds—

transporting bounty of fruit,

this steel horse can go!

~Guillermo Delgado
no. 371, Guillermo Delgado, 2013

no. 371, Guillermo Delgado, 2013

haiku no. 370

The scent of coffee

mingles with burning butter…

my grandmother’s hands.

~Guillermo Delgado

haiku no. 369

Three House Sparrows eat

from newly hung bird feeder;

I hope they tell friends.

~Guillermo Delgado

haiku no. 368

The sound of dissent—

echoes in urban canyons,

permeating walls.

~Guillermo Delgado
no. 368, Guillermo Delgado, 2013

no. 368, Guillermo Delgado, 2013

haiku no. 367

Child covers her ears

while car and truck engines rev;

Ashland bus stop blues.

~Guillermo Delgado
no. 367, Guillermo Delgado, 2013

no. 367, Guillermo Delgado, 2013

haiku no. 366

Poor kids = cash:

corporate reformers counting…

we’re at a crossroads.

~Guillermo Delgado
no. 366, Guillermo Delgado, 2013

no. 366, Guillermo Delgado, 2013

 

 

haiku no. 365

A year of haiku…

I’m itching to sit with spring—

blear-eyed from winter.

~Guillermo Delgado

haiku no. 364

Schools of the poor closed:

Rahm and his school board cronies—

a new apartheid.

~Guillermo Delgado
no. 364, Guillermo Delgado, 2013

no. 364, Guillermo Delgado, 2013

 

 

 

 

haiku no. 363

In America,

poor schools have to beg for arts—

the privileged schools don’t.

~Guillermo Delgado
no. 363, Guillermo Delgado, 2013

no. 363, Guillermo Delgado, 2013

 

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