last day of vacation—
the blackberries
won’t let me go
Month: September 2010
cloudy day
I wave at the neighbors
I don’t know
a spider
on the floor tile—
checkmate
daughter and
mother the
same hard face
bus stop
an empty bench
and a bag lunch
from pampas grass
a dragonfly emerges
thunderclaps
gusty wind
chasing one another
three plastic cups
beach party
the last drop of sunlight
caught in a glass
rain
curtain
of absences
the little spider
hunches sideways—
night shift
whispering grass ~
the scythe’s sound against
the stone
World Series
another layer of paint
flakes off the fence
summer’s end
lilies pointing
toward earth
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collecting stones
from the river
where I was baptized
moonlight
washes over me
summer’s end—
rearranging gravel
in the Zen garden
last bloom—
closing
the shears
Issue 10.2: Editor’s Note
tinywords issue 10.2 is now complete. There will be a brief pause before the next issue, for which we’re accepting submissions.