haiku no. 177

Harvest moon looming,

women and girls gather wood—

blood on Western hands.

~Guillermo Delgado

 

haiku no. 59

Chicago weekend—

warm and spring hail of bullets;

children stuck indoors.

~Guillermo Delgado

haiku no. 58

Warmongers invade

singing sands of great water—

plan preemptive strikes.

~Guillermo Delgado

haiku no. 57

A wind is blowing:

stinky plain along the shore—

generals scheming.

~Guillermo Delgado

haiku no. 54

Tanned young anarchists

carry plastic bags of food—

iPhones in their hands.

~Guillermo Delgado

haiku no. 27

Over the rooftops,

a flying stick of Black Hawks

makes children ask why.

~Guillermo Delgado

no. 27, Guillermo Delgado, 2012

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