Poetry

This is Thin Air Online’s Archive of pieces that are classified as poetry, both long form and short.

  • In the High Desert by Edward Baranosky

    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…

  • Gallery of Knives by Jacqueline Berger

    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…

  • Great Sand Dunes by John Paul Caponigro

    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…

  • Floridian Birds by Grace Chapel

    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…

  • 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…

  • Chronoscope 277: I chose again not to rush by John Walser

    Chronoscope 277: I chose again not to rush by John Walser

    The strawberry plant’s creptout of the garden plotand rooted in the lawn. Next almost summerwe’ll see what blossoms:next almost summerwe’ll taste what fruits. The only hints of fading:a smudge of burnt umberraw as an accidenta small flaw high onjust one maple treein the backyard: and the shrivel of hanging verbena.(I learned this year howto deadhead…

  • Fretwork, in Back of Buddha by Cameron Weeks

    Fretwork, in Back of Buddha by Cameron Weeks

    The subject noses forward             into buried strugglefull of themes, perils, stage directions                         (his brittle handshake,           an epistemic trouble). Toting a briefcase,            transfigured into the vagueand vaporous             insubstance of doubt, taking a notefrom his breast pocket                         a sturdier reality flees. Stones protest                           the empty airand the ink in the snow of the page                  a dizzy resolutionborrowing the weight                         of penancewhere we break                         as a fold in…

  • Receding by Eli Coyle

    Receding by Eli Coyle

    I watch her from the windowsof her parent’s house— through the stained-glass memoriesof pomegranate and yarrow, tea coloring leakingpheromones and salt. I watch her from where I am,there is music in our veins, in our handsand in our breath and we are alone together. The summer becomes the fallbut doesn’t recognize itself. I hold her…