A Teeny Tiny Blog

Please Join Me at My NEW BLOG

2007-12-31T22:01:00Z

I figured out how to use a different blog utility, so I just set up a new blog at teenytiny.org/blog.html and hope that you will adjust your links and join me there. If you are on Livejournal, you can follow the new blog on your Friends page; just add the feed from here: http://syndicated.livejournal.com/teenytinypoetry/profile.

Back to the Blog

2007-12-31T06:30:00Z

In Bed

On top of wool blankets, scratch
of two sets of pages turning,

the cat’s tongue over her fur
and the backs of our hands

over the hum of the dishwasher,
whirr as the furnace comes on.

Sorry I Haven't Been Posting!

2007-10-22T22:13:00Z

Clear

The radio's playing songs I like.
I'm driving. I'm stopping for a cookie

and coffee from a tiny bakery,
walking, cup in one hand,

cookie in the other. Everything is crisp,
but I'm not looking, only

listening to women's voices,
feeling the quick, woolen scratch

of their jackets as we pass.

A Little More Oregon

2007-09-13T02:10:00Z

Parade

Our sister feeds extra biscuits
from our bucket of chicken

to ducks but mostly pigeons
at Clackamette Park, her baby

circled by pigeons stepping forward,
stepping back as they perform

formations they’ve practiced all year.

More on Oregon

2007-09-11T23:34:00Z

After Oregon (After Dogen)

Dark rocks, crooked edge
of the shore: Willamette River
in thick black pen, filled in

with watercolor—brown,
cloudy tan, then blue

where powerboats race,
making waves which ducks
bear effortlessly, feet

marking their fluid lines,
untraceable under the surface.

From Oregon City

2007-09-09T15:31:00Z

Rivershore Inn

Our room faces the Willamette—
geese and jet skis, a freeway bridge

and public boat launch. Seniors
wait for the Belle of the Falls

to depart at noon, its paddlewheel
gleaming with river water

and red and white paint.

Poem About Meniere's (Which Needs a Better Title)

2007-08-27T19:42:00Z

Meniere’s Disease

Someone is calling an animal,
two syllables of a name

I can’t make out. My ears
feel heavy, too slow

to pull anything from the air
which is why I’ll never

be a birder—all calls
are the same calm chirping.

Anti-Apocalyptic

2007-08-25T04:06:00Z

No Excuses

A tractor beam, the rapture—
no one and nothing is coming
for you. You’d better
finish the dishes, get back
to your overdue homework.

Walking Walking Walking

2007-08-19T23:19:00Z

Not Walking for Exercise

Only for air. It helps—
I don’t feel gloomy. I keep up

with neighbors’ gardens,
smell mock orange before

it rains, catch apples
before they fall to the sidewalk.

Now I Shout It...

2007-08-18T18:23:00Z

Calamity Jane

Your handsome face and mellow voice
will thrill the airwaves. Why don’t

you take over the world? You’ll run it
properly. We’ll all stop killing

the TV every night when it’s time
for the news. Thinking of your boots

and cowboy hat, I’ll clear up
my back taxes. I’m not the only woman

ready to be rounded up by you.

Solidarity!

2007-07-31T22:56:00Z

1970

I was together, then,
with every woman alive, driving

my daughter and her friends
to school, knowing myself

one with a sisterhood of carpoolers.

After Moving My Lawn Chair to the Front Yard

2007-07-28T01:23:00Z

Patterns

A large patch of bare trunk
in the middle of a cedar
across the street—I never
noticed it before, too busy

getting out of the car,
aligning my key horizontally
four steps before I reach
our front door. Should I fall

in line behind our neighbor
at the store, will I find
he also is balding?

More "Tell" Than "Show" (Oh Well)

2007-07-24T17:19:00Z

We're Queer

We’re here. It's clear
as the full moon which hangs
over our suburb, except

it's mostly midday when anyone
looks up. That's OK. It takes
a while to receive anything

important. The slowest
check is already in the mail.

A Little Astronomy

2007-07-03T21:14:00Z

Blank Space

Nobody saw photos of the whole
Earth until over a year

after my parents finished
high school. They pictured it

like I saw constellations
above lights from the highway

from diagrams projected
on the ceiling of the science museum.

Another Neighborhood Poem

2007-07-01T18:09:00Z

Scale

White as a trout where
the filet knife fits, the underside

of a jet hangs briefly
overhead as Tanya and I assess

a bed of freesia for weeds
and insects and find both. The jet

veers left, toward Irene’s
and the house with dumpsters

in the yard, men on the roof.

Summer Summer Summer

2007-06-27T23:17:00Z

Apologetically (for Tanya)

New summer clothes, I know,
would make you feel better

though the weather isn’t hot
though it’s nearly July 4th,

almost time for me to begin
avoiding barbecues, pool parties,

evenings under the stars
in tank tops and Capri pants

because I prefer lunch and dinner
in the dining room, in jeans

and shirts with sleeves.

Clearance! One Day Only!

2007-06-21T18:01:00Z

Hailstorm

I never go to the thrift store
Monday mornings when everything
is half-off, despite how I like
the clack clack clack

of a steady downpour—metal
hangers over metal racks.
Everyone presses too close,
straining to see themselves

in blouses, sweaters, coats
pulled over their own thin shirts.

From the Family Circle (April 1970)

2007-06-15T17:39:00Z

Unpretentious

You can’t fly more cheaply
than chicken wings, and they’re
so tasty—the universal law

of compensation: greatest flavor
in fewest bites. How many
chicken wings per person

is a good question. At least
three average-sized wings apiece.

Meanwhile, I Continue to Gamble

2007-06-12T16:13:00Z

At the Entrance to the Casino

River rocks, sculptures
of killer whales in the middle

of a fountain. Water means
freedom, re-circulated

in a pool filled with lucky pennies.

Saturday Matinees

2007-06-10T18:01:00Z

At Eleven

Mary was always the boy.
I was sometimes a boy
sometimes a girl. We played
Rhett and Scarlet, Dracula,
the Dead End Kids. Mary taught me

how to kiss, in the back
of the balcony where our parents
wouldn’t see us. When I prayed
no one would turn around,
God listened. And we were smart

at kissing at exciting parts
and stopping when the action did.