… some of the best micropoetry from Twitter, kept alive in jars…

Author Archive


thoughts of him still—
a flush of red
on the cactus bud



The unexpected
has a sweetness, nonpareiled,
love found late in life
twenty dollars in a winter coat
you, making french toast



foggy night
sometimes it’s better
that way



sunday morning–
the ceiling rose flowers
opening to soft shafts of light



in the darkness
the wind blows a star
across the sky



holding the universe
in place
an acorn hidden
by a squirrel



one long beautiful
string of notes–
the blackbird loves me



beneath a strange tenderness
a rabbit stilled …
lynx in blue snow

along the river
ghosts of forget me nots



visiting robin
how easy it is
to gladden my heart…
in the baker’s doorway
a fat dog’s tapping tail



between the rowan & the smoketree
we hid our wishes
we drank coffee on the moon
& we danced



frog song
a heron’s shadow takes
the last note



what he left behind
she knitted into a sweater
warm with wrongdoing
and then she unraveled it
one strand a night



silently in a snapshot

you are saying something
and look wonderful saying it

the fall leaves are gray
and your smile
is forever



she had a scar like
a pink centipede where her
breasts once held the moon



night flaps
against the window
a car faroff
then a dog
then quiet



each daisy
flowering in the meadow
worth five haiku
what price then
your soul



stand among the fallen leaves
wait for the winds
to kick up
and make you a tree again



a bark across the hill
oh your midnight hunger
fox of my heart



wild violets
something so beyond



No one in the park
to admire
the way
the wind sweeps
the leaves away and away



in the park
the quietness of falling leaves
when was i young



as if it was afraid we forgot it
autumn wind



the children gone
horse chestnuts rotting
in the backyard



of the world
a dragonfly



she’s all silver light
cashmere soft
and rain
that tastes
like honey



sister’s crayons,
if only
the yellow were big enough
to turn the whole world
into sunshine



is love every day?
asked the little boy
yes, his mother said
tomorrow too?
after that?



uncoiling ..
her scales glistening,
the summer-river
s l o w l y ..
swallows s k y



bright sunshine —
the junkie
mocks the drunk



I want to scrape
all the poems off the rose
and give to you
the naked flower



in the mimosa
it’s always the songbirds
who gossip
about the grackles
and their blue-black feathers