tinywords resumes publication, with a painting by Natalie d’Arbeloff
butterfly —
the way you leave
and come back
spring
is coming
one door
of the deli
is open
Street vendors
selling flowers
for other men’s wives
Five minutes before the alarm — birdsong, birdsong.
day at the park
picnic blankets blanketed
with cherry blossoms
spring scent of nothing burning
first thaw
pink petals
in the elevator
sprouting grasses —
deleting the contacts
i never call
I pause to watch
the moon riding the clouds
the boy tugs my hand
walking barefoot
in the mud
a young woman
carries the world
on her head
Another weekend over, under a sky of stars I empty the car.
row houses
wear tinfoiled windows
blind to spring
green tractor plowing
drags over black furrows
a lace scarf of gulls
riverside wedding —
the flower girl
picks a dandelion
low tide . . .
river mud glistens
pink in the setting sun
On a bed of leaves,
a deer skeleton picked clean,
save one furry hoof.
covered with blossoms
a business card
floats on the pond
in between
the notes heartbeats
so loud
snatched by the wind,
my check zips past the daffodils —
I almost let it go
in
an old car
an old man and
an old dog
remission —
in the rear-view the crow
settles back on the roadkill
the hem of my dress
too wet for the wind
the lie
i almost tell
bruised ginger
stars
clearly
aware
The way I rake the desert :: that would be my poverty
Clouds building outside
Heralding a thunderstorm
My cube grows smaller
the wind howling horizon on a wave
Sunreal
Hidden by the fog,
mockingbirds and wrens sing maps
outlining the trees.
morning coffee
one bare foot
under another
empty tree–
except
one nest
almost there
would be a
gas station
summer T-ball —
between batters outfielders
chase butterflies
sunday
line of parking meters
all expired
[haiga: click URL to see image]
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