Kristen Lindquist

Camden, Maine

Kristen Lindquist lives on the coast of Maine where she works as a writer, bookkeeper, naturalist, and museum assistant. She received her MFA in poetry from the University of Oregon and has three collections of nonhaiku poetry. Garrison Keillor has read three of her poems on The Writer’s Almanac. For many years she wrote a prize-winning natural history column and continues to write feature articles on nature. Her husband, Paul Doiron, is a crime novelist.

Kristen’s haiku, haibun, haiku-related essays, and book reviews have been published in many journals and anthologies. Her chapbooks It Always Comes Back (haiku) and What We Tell Each Other (haibun) were winners of the Snapshot Press eChapbook Award (2020; 2023). A member of the Broadmoor Haiku Collective, she edited the group’s anthology What Weathers, What Returns (Red Moon Press, 2023). Her most recent haiku collection Island (Red Moon Press, 2023) was awarded second place in the Haiku Society of America’s Merit Book Awards.

Kristen is currently the coeditor of Autumn Moon Haiku Journal and serves as the Haiku Society of America’s regional coordinator for New England. She has also served as coordinator for the Haiku Foundation’s Touchstone Awards for haibun. You can read her daily haiku blog, “Book of Days,” at www.kristenlindquist.com/blog.

snow angel

more than half my life

behind me

Acorn #53

down to the shore

with a bucket of lobster shells

island sunset

Akitsu Quarterly, Spring/Summer 2025

November sunset

jars of grape juice glow

on a farmstand shelf

Bottle Rockets #52

when we were selkies

the lively conversations

of sea ducks

#FemkuMag #38

extended vigil . . .

winterberries glow

in morning mist

First Frost #8

wildfire smoke . . .

a chicken churns the compost

with her dinosaur feet

Frogpond 47:2

a forest

full of broken things

winter moss

Hedgerow #147

wrensong—

wood frog embryos

wriggle in their eggs

The Heron’s Nest 26:3

renewing

my membership

fresh snow

Kingfisher #9

scrawl of tideline . . .

she catches me up

on her latest drama

Mariposa #50

a gull’s bleached skull . . .

scratches in bedrock

said to be runes

Modern Haiku 55:3

a long marriage

the mnemonics

of bird songs

Modern Haiku 56:1

stiff breeze—

a plein air painter

blocks in the sails

Presence #81

whale-road

a rusted anchor stains

the beach sand

Tinywords 23:2

owl dark

the body of a blowdown

aglow with fungus

Tsuri-doro #25

early ferry our wide blue anticipation

Wales Haiku Journal, Summer 2024