Welcome! tinywords 11.3, the “journeys” issue, is about to begin.
It has been my delight and honor to guest edit this issue of tinywords. I could not have
Category: Issue 11.3
Guest edited by Kathe L. Palka
shallow stream
we cross a bridge
of stars
immigration line
a red thread caught
in her teeth
pub. credit: Upstate Dim Sum 2009/11
just this morning
the first magnolia buds
opening—
my mother’s unwed initials
on the suitcase she brought east
he thinks again of turning leaves her hands
autumn leaves
lipstick red
her brand new path to herself
South Coast, Aqaba
We stand on the shore, a plastic bag of fins, masks and snorkels on the sand between us. A cold wind sends whitecaps scudding over the Red Sea. Without looking at one another,
sunlit lake
not a ripple
in my thoughts
west wind
the rain arrives
without you
row boat—
we float deeper
into dusk
friday evening
the last car to board the ferry
in front of me
thunder
at the bus stop
the posture of rain
rainfall
a feather on the pond
changes course
backstroke the sound of my mother’s womb
(published in Haijinx IV:1)
platelets—
the trip we were planning
to plan
pub. credit: Modern Haiku 41:2 (2010)
anniversary
roses in a vase
drying together
light falling everywhere in its own place — summer’s end
migrating geese—
wind flaps the scarecrow’s
empty sleeves
leaves changing a language i can’t fully grasp
Skype—
my parents describe
the harvest moon
home from the city—
waiting at the station
Orion
Original version published in Shamrock.
milkweed
leaving everything
behind
waltzing matilda two beats ahead of the rain
my journey begins:
a few snowflakes
flutter in the breeze
how do they manage
migrating geese taking only
their shadows
airplane window
mountains move
slowly past
Slime trail—
glancing back at
the glinting
just because
the sky is navigable—
thistledown
alone at last
she chooses the road
less travelled…
in her wind-blown hair
salt air and wildflowers
scenic route
i brake
for a maple leaf
moonlight on aster
i take
the long way home
early bus—
catching my reflection
in the police van window
previously published in 3Lights, September 2009
the climb
over barbed wire…
trumpet vine
just past mauve paddling hard for a dark shore
loneliness
the boat finding
its own way
at the top of the hill
I am still
the same size
first published in Roadrunner August 2006
Missouri highway
this night there’s only me
and a radio preacher
thoughts unspool
with the white line
road trip
published in Frogpond 34:1
straight furrowed fields
all the things I wish
I could unsay
previously published in Jim Applegate, ed., Small Canyons 4 Anthology
across the blue dome of the great basin mustang’s eye
no Perseids yet—
just the Milky Way
and a million stars
half the sky
a deeper blue
mid-life birthday
at a crossroads
summer wind
through prairie grass
previously published in: Jim Applegate, ed., Small Canyons 4 Anthology (2009),
the road home each bend unwinding an earlier version
anniversary
on his bedside table
a thin film of dust
in the apartment
that he never tried to leave
a map of the world
jet lag
she unravels
his half-finished sweater
Sunday afternoon
jammed between a bus and truck
we glimpse the silver
water tumbling down
Agatsuma Gorge