Kris Lindbeck
Selected Tanka and Haiku |
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November . . . dead leaves rolling sunlight down the street How often
have I stayed inside afraid to go out and see what the wind is saying? The sunset through my office window rose and gold Looking for words that burn with such a flame |
I couldn't tell you why I'm crying today . . . I put out my tongue like a child to taste the salt no camera and a heart too full of holes to hold this sunset The drive from nursing home to supermarket becomes a ceremony: the slowly blooming sunset |
She was a young girl who read late on summer nights waking at dawn to turn off the fan and sleep rocked by birdsong I forget
what year we drove south only the red bud burning through the bare trees with me beside you watching Full dark
winter's quiet crickets begin chirping The crescent moon lifts up her arms to catch the evening star |
I hold my breath as the butterfly passes over the fence between two spider webs to reach the jasmine Rain running
down the window the light in each drop A bird calls between midnight and dawn Your quiet breath becomes my home |
