Category: Issue 17.2

Welcome back to another issue of T I N Y W O R D S .

In keeping with our out-of-this-world visual theme begun with our photo prompt from Mars, our backdrop for 

summer’s end
the sparkle of coins
in the fountain

 

cottonwood seed
a wish
from my childhood

 

lavender
even the old stems
fragrant

 

 

 

(Shiki Monthly Kukai, 3rd place, April 2008)

a call to prayer
by the sea
the scent of wild roses

 

her plastic pail
waiting by the bed
sand-dollar moon

the real world
within the real world
tide pools

 

 

Muscle Beach
the effortless lift
of terns

 

 

autumn boardwalk
all that’s fallen
through the cracks

 

            the
         librarian
          shakes
           sand
           out
            of
            my
           over
           due
             b
             o
             o 
             k

 

vacation’s end —
finding my worry stone
right where I left it

 

weekday morning
pulling my mood
off a hanger

Tokyo metro
the ebb and flow
of frowns

 

 

 

(Originally published in Asahi Haikuist Network, 6/16/17)

Hiroshima Day
hydrangeas
bent low

 

so many nightmares
this tangle of cables
next to my bed

 

 

birth announcement
the loneliness
of social media

 

 

free Wi-Fi . . .
each to their
own device

birds drift
over the meadow
summer-deep
the distant pulse
of a tambourine

 

 

bones decaying
into data —
a withered field

 

 

a breeze beyond rhetoric rippling meadowgrass

 

bases loaded…
the ice cream truck
rounds the bend

mid-summer
a goldfinch rests
in a chain-link fence

fire hydrant
barefooted boys drenched
with laugher

morning glories
tighten their grip —
late summer

 

 

a murder of crows night comes to pieces

I inhale
and my lungs fill up
with bees
though all hope is lost
there is still this hum

 

 

 

(Originally published in Hedgerow Poems, December 2016)

hospice
another deadline
comes and goes

the mosquito mesh
pixelating
the night

full moon
the wolf
in my dog’s voice

 

I am drawn
to the darkness
drifting through an arroyo
the distant call
of coyote

old ruin —
a roof of bougainvillea

ancient temple
the face of Buddha
hacked off

bullet points
on gun control
Orion’s belt

 

winter weary
war wounds
ache again

arms wide
I lean against the wind
that blows across the atlantic
how long
before you let me go?

 

 

Getaways

Pushing the mop in a figure-eight, a custodian washes the floor. Waves build, crash against the front of his bucket as he rolls it on quiet castors across the

November
I turn myself over
to the rain

 

sunrise…
a beggar’s arm
stretching into day

 

goodwill
chained to the counter…
charity box

caught again
talking to myself
bus stop heat

 

yard sale —
the old rug pulled out
just enough

Ancestors’ Day–
sandals pile up
in the entryway

siblings…
the different narratives
of our childhood

 

dinner with my ex –
wine turns
to water

 

 

 

war news
my second helping
of tea

 

far thunder-
how long without hearing
a reproach

the edge
of the unspoken …
half a rainbow

 

a horse’s eye
on the merry-go-round
fills with rain

 

coming home
to no new messages
lingering rain

 

wild mint
all my should-haves
gone to seed

cut flowers
the short life
of compliments

the importance
of small details
Queen Anne’s lace

leaves turning the yesterdays yet to come

rain on plums
the honk of geese
moving on

 

all the wealth
that he left
golden leaves

bare winter
tree shadows
barcode the road

meditation class
a stray thought
follows me home

mountain trail …
a bear crosses
my mind

 

 

filling me completely
the singing bowl empties
its om

first violin–
the play of stage lights
on frayed horsehair

first day of classes
the heron a model
of attention

 

 

school windows
filled with paper snowflakes
no two the same

her scars
deeper than bone . . .
winter solstice

somewhere a waterfall
I can’t see
the sound

snow moon —
the light from without
the light from within

slow rain …
by a roadside cross
a spray of silk roses

dry stone wall
Paddington Bear
out in the rain

 

 

 

(Originally appeared in Presence #58, July 2017)

 

closing the picture book
as if by magic
sleep

 

 

cold light another empty bottle promise

 

codependent
a flaw
deep in the diamond

 

February rain . . .
yet still the sparrows playing
beneath a parked car

 

 

the soft knocking
of my pulse
on his pillow . . .
valentine’s eve

 

 

moonrise
a bullfrog
greets the dog star

stillness
the kayak
breaks
the river’s
glassy skin

one cast
after another
measuring the brook

 

sunset fishing the flood tide catching the light

 

solar eclipse
I fill my wheelbarrow
with sunflowers

autumn equinox
the truck driver clicks his tongue
at a passing dray

 

 

 

(1st Prize, The Martin Lucas Award, 2016)

twining the tendrils
of peas through the trellis
the sweep of the sun

 

high-plains hut
the swirl
of the milky way

 

our small fire
through a hole in the clouds
the only star

 

 

the high meadow
a cicada’s whine
sharpens into silence