Poetry
This is Thin Air Online’s Archive of pieces that are classified as poetry, both long form and short.
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Window Sitting by Michael Roberts
There is somethingabout the sun crested treesin early spring mornings that awakens the mindto the deep peaceof the moment. While my dear onerises from our bedI sit in windows like a catand watchleaves begin to unfurl slowly at firstthen graciously.Wherever I live in the forest or the cityin the moments when desirearouses in me a…
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Tongue of Abuelo’s Grief #3 by Angelina Leaños
[I still don’t understand what made your hands so sweetmolding gingerbread into pigs before devouring.Why then did you consume my youth so harshly? no crecimos con ningún papá bienDid you forbid us from locked kitchen as you workedso only one room could bear witness to your gentleness? porque nunca estuvo casi con nosotrosWhen you were…
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Guppies by Grace Mathews
Your voice caught whenyou tried explainingwhat happened.Most likely chemical residue in the bucketwhere you kept themwhile cleaning their tank.I would not let youflush them. We duggraves in the dirtpatch out back, placedsmall stones on topto mark their bodies.The soil grew aridand pale. Feral catsdug up the fish.You dragged a tarpover the dirt andgave the tank…
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In the High Desert by Edward Baranosky
When I found the beautiful white bones on thedesert, I picked them up and took them home.I have used these things to say what is to methe wideness and wonder of the world…Georgia O’ Keeffe 1Chiming timeOf the old frontier clockHangs in the silence,You hear your own voiceThrough the howling wind. 2Sifting sandDrifting throughA broken…
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Gallery of Knives by Jacqueline Berger
Among the antique daggers,blades, and swords,a solid, hand carved doorpropped against a wall.I’m off to the sidebut you’re right underwhen it falls.Everyone rushes to lift,too late.You’re a coinpressed in dirt. But just the other night,it was me who died.In the morning, shaken,you said you’d shot meby accident, didn’t actuallysee the shooting but the gunwas still…
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Great Sand Dunes by John Paul Caponigro
37.7863° N, 105.6152° W tell meare you one or manyi confess i am bothi can tell youabout these things that tumblein and out ofme and you the heart of the eyethe eye of the breaththe breath of the handthe hand of the ribsthe ribs of the teeththe teeth of the tonguethe tongue of the mindthe…
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Floridian Birds by Grace Chapel
The common blackbird like spilled ink,like a dead screen, like wrought ironfurniture, song like a coach’s whistleand the grating of plastic partsin a ten-year-old printer. The starling like oil spills, constellationedand hungry for spiders. The sparrow,perpetual baby, the delightof something small and youngeating french fries off the ground. The cardinal like menarche. Fincheswith many faces…
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stunning by Don Farrell
spring was here but he left, maybehe’s changing clothes againafter soiling his dress – so maddening. spring, this loquacious young man who lovesdressing up – heels and hair – keepsslipping on the ice into mud…starting over. so hard to understand.wear jeans and duck boots – let’s go…but no…a whole new cleanup and gown. a sundress…
