My neighbor fills her winter garden with oaktag cut-outs of red and yellow stars—hangs them from her bird feeder or glues them atop the planting sticks she’s
Category: Issue 11.1
owl’s call sounding the depth of a winter night
moon eclipse—
he asks again
what day it is
dead of winter
a wraith from the dryer vent
drifts through the fence
snowstorm
even the stoplights
slow down
painting class
children color each other
into laughter
the snow
before it falls
white sun
Stalin’s statue
in his heart
still stone
midwinter night
light from the snow
the stars
Black Dog
“You know”, he confided, “I want to walk in front of a truck. My little girls would be much better off. I am the reject of the family. My wife tells
a last rocket…
lights twinkle
into the New Year
snow flurry on an empty street the traffic light turns red
Faster and Faster
20,000 years on average from the Sun’s core to its surface.
About 8 minutes and 18 seconds from the Sun to Moon.
One more second from the Moon to Earth.
crisp night
sculpture garden—
new snow
on her marble breasts
late afternoon—
a glimpse of sunlight
through her hair
low tide
the silent contractions
of a jellyfish
empty nest
empty nest
still
the bird sings
For Two Horses By the Fence at VCCA
They stand there, side-by-side, seemingly unmoving, gazing off toward the mountains. Now and then the darker one slowly turns his head to look at me, one brown eye
midnight fog
the street light
a silver dandelion
The fountain’s too lucid
moon—just inches above
a litter of leaves.
snowmelt…
a woodpecker thrums
into thin sun
white phlox blossoms daring the frost
night sky
the rusted tin roof
leaking moonlight
walking back
the way we came
shadows shift
stuttering light
the sound of tea
being poured
a sliver of moon
she asks if he really
exists
street preacher
the hooker throws a few coins
in his hat
Float
Thousands, perhaps millions, are floating under the sea—jellyfish, and shaped like umbrellas. But she looks different. She reflects purple and silver light.
almost no delta
at the mouth of the river—
forgotten dreams
lamplight…
my shadow softens
with each step
Lent
On
the
ceiling
above
my
bed
i
pin
a
pin
up
of
her
naked
shadow
on a bare twig rain beads what light there is
iridescence
of the dogwood leaf—
autumn moon
winterlight
a blur of birdsong
in the air
slipping in
beneath the kitchen door
—first sunlight
a jarful of coins
from faraway places
winter stars
low tide
we run through
the clouds
drizzle and mud—
sparrows sinking deeper
into drab
through the skylight
only we
can see these stars
gleam of cattails and a high half moon
the news
no one wants…
waning moon
his recent poem
carves a canoe from
a tulip tree—starlight
glistens in the spray of
the ebbing tide
black cattle
among the trees
heat lightning
haiga
flash of yellow
a butterfly headbutts me
in my work break
no moon
looking outdoors
into snowlight
family gathering
talking of dogs
long dead
night jog—
sparks from a train
rounding a turn
the rabbit’s ears
translucent
at dawn
sun
through the syringe—
red red poppy bloom
day’s end
refilling my wine glass
moonlight
a firefly’s glow
against her palm
passed to mine
graffiti
sharper
by moonlight
up to the summit up to a hawk’s cry up to the sun
Issue 11.1 Credits
Issue 11.1 of tinywords is now complete.
There will be a brief pause while we read for the next issue, which will start in late April or early May. If you’d like