haiku no. 161

Outdoor coffeehouse—

rebellion songs play over

trivial chatter.

~Guillermo Delgado

haiku no. 158

On a hilly street,

children ride their bicycles

in the amber light.

 ~Guillermo Delgado

haiku no. 157

On a dark highway,

I drive with the windows down—

moonlight on my hood.

~Guillermo Delgado
no. 157, Guillermo Delgado, 2012

no. 157, Guillermo Delgado, 2012

haiku no. 155

Late August moonlight

illuminates the rooftops—

katydids rejoice.

~Guillermo Delgado

haiku no. 154

Sweltering August—

the prisoners peek through slits—

lovers flash their breasts.

~Guillermo Delgado
no. 154, Guillermo Delgado, 2012

no. 154, Guillermo Delgado, 2012

haiku no. 152

Late August morning:

I walk my daughter to school—

too early to talk.

~Guillermo Delgado
no. 152, Guillermo Delgado, 2012

no. 152, Guillermo Delgado, 2012

 

 

haiku no. 149

Alleys and backways—

coffee drinkers come and go;

two birds watch and wait.

~Guillermo Delgado
no. 149, Guillermo Delgado, 2012

no. 149, Guillermo Delgado, 2012

haiku no. 148

Summer wind blowing—

I slip in and out of dreams;

the road is calling.

~Guillermo Delgado
no. 148, Guillermo Delgado, 2012

no. 148, Guillermo Delgado, 2012

haiku no. 142

Late night in summer—

boys drift up and down the strip—

small-town Nebraska.

~Guillermo Delgado
 no. 142, Guillermo Delgado, 2012

no. 142, Guillermo Delgado, 2012

 

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