Tanka ~ John
Stevenson
you’ve become
my dictionary
I’ve learned from you
that words
mean other words
the cold
goes away
and comes back again
and this
is winter
how
can I tell
my sweet, grown son
he
shouldn’t be
living here
like
a cloud,
my shadow crossed your heart
no need to grieve
that feelings
are passing things
on their way in,
the employees
of an Indian restaurant
look tired
of winter
who isn't
in suspense
and who isn't trying
to keep it
to himself
the way all stories
are connected--
her tremor
reaches me
through the table
a light line
through the poem
in case it
turns out to be
better than I think
false start
of springtime
I feel it coming
another round
of hating everything
John
Stevenson is
a former president of the Haiku Society of America and currently serving
as editor of Frogpond. His haiku collections are Something
Unerasable (1995), Some of the Silence (1999), and Quiet
Enough (2004). Born and raised in Ithaca, New York, he now lives in
Nassau, NewYork. Stevenson's tanka
are often wry and pungent. Always keenly observant of self and others,
both in foibles and small triumphs, his tight craftsmanship manages to
appear relaxed, and the psychological validities he consistently conveys
are all the more compelling for their charming offhandedness. —MMcC
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2005: Simply Haiku |