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Kris Lindbeck


Selected Tanka and Haiku

Picture


​Kris Lindbeck's profile


​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 

​

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