family reunion
the grandfather surrounded
by strangers
Author: d. f. tweney
d. f. tweney is the founder and publisher of tinywords.com. A writer, editor, journalist, and listener poet, he lives in the San Francisco Bay Area with his family. He tries to write haiku every day, but he doesn't always succeed.
Venus appears,
a sharp curl of light
planed off
the gone sun
Issue 10.1 Now Available in Print
Issue 10.1 is now complete, and I’m pleased to be able to offer it as a printed book.
This is something I’ve wanted to do with tinywords for a long time. There
Haibun for Bill Higginson
I started publishing haiku in 2000, before I really even knew what it was. I found poems that I liked in a book and started sending them to a mailing list, to friends’
blue light
from the laptop’s screen–
a break in the clouds
How tinywords will work
This is how I hope to publish the new tinywords:
I will arrange collections of short poetry into issues. There may also be art and essays, perhaps even a review or two.
Miniature poetry
tinywords got its start with a simple inspiration: Haiku are perfectly suited to the 160-character limit imposed by SMS text messaging.
Now, a similar notion has
blue light
from the laptop’s screen–
a break in the clouds
late edition–
the typesetter eats a plum
beside the presses
Haiku spring:
white blossoms
on an old, black bough.
morning news
with the paper, I bring in
a cherry petal
side street
after the train departs–
silence
overpass:
on every streetlight
twenty pigeons
holding our daughter
up to her first plum blossoms —
petals in her hand
after the rain
a falling yellow leaf
lit by the sun
Library patron
with a sour smile, holding
“Divorce for Dummies”
The moonlit river:
Its silver surface broken
by a salmon’s splash.
half a moon
pasted on the blue
morning sky
The black reservoir:
a string of taillights circling
around the pale moon.
Lying on the couch:
sunlight shines in one window
and out the other.
rose light
on your upturned face
this morning
January rain–
a solitary calla
among the old leaves.
wind-carved glaciers
swell & crest across Greenland
crash on granite blocks
January morning;
Yellow leaves still falling
On the frosty grass.
New Year’s Day:
empty wine glasses catch
morning sunlight.
Mid-day sunset:
azure to jade, orange, rose
over blue snow.
Bright green moss blooming
on the shed’s grey threshold-
new paint for old wood.
A steam plume rises
against slate-grey fog bank-
South San Francisco.
greygreen water
sunlight on weathered pilings
a seagull cries out
Three gnarled pines
shade the street corner lot
where laborers wait
Writing on water
the egret, looking for fish
makes little foot-notes.