Venus appears,
a sharp curl of light
planed off
the gone sun
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.
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
over the bay
a jet banks into the haze
(haibun for Bill Higginson)
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.