dylan tweney

if you're bored, you're not paying attention

Category: Poems (page 1 of 2)

Small stones #4-7

My son asks me to time him, then bolts down the sidewalk and out of sight between two strangers. He returns at top speed, twelve long seconds later. 4 Jan 2013   the binoculars reveal distant waves crawling slowly across the horizon 5 Jan 2013   Sunlight breaks through the sky over Capitola, surrounding the surfers […]

Small stone #3

Jupiter shines, a pale yellow beacon, almost directly overhead. In the distance, the sound of freeway traffic, like surf.


scattered gravel along the bike path and one old champagne cork

I made a short, clickable Tapestry story out of an old poem I wrote but had never published. I hope you like it.

A small stone to start the year.

clear darkening sky and the sounds of the neighbor’s party — a swallow darts over the treeline My first contribution to Fiona Robyn’s mindful writing challenge. Happy new year!

Tanka: Deep night

deep night– after the neighbor stops yelling at her children the mockingbird begins to warble Published in A Handful of Stones, September 6, 2010

haiku published in Frogpond

one drop trembling on the lip of the lily     Published in the Fall 2010 issue of Frogpond

inside the tight curlof the yucca leafa wood spider haiku published on A Handful of Stones, 19 August 2010

untitled poem

3 floors above the alley where 2 young men examine 1 paycheck a window box of geraniums and a gray satellite dish and– what made me look– wind chimes ringing out 6/1/2010 published in A Handful of Stones, Oct 2, 2010

25 Canadian Tanka Poets in French and English : Atlas Poetica

I’m amazed and honored to see a poem I wrote included in this collection of Canadian tanka. There is even a translation into French (not by me) — a first for me. one petal from the princess tree clings to the windshield— I drive away looking in the mirror un pétale de l’arbre impérial s’accroche […]

Some haiku from November

after the last train a man works the floor polisher alone almost snow calculus — the slow accumulationof almost nothing turning the corner into the sudden warmth of sunlight in a light raina woman pushes a shopping cart, singing “Wish You Were Here” new glasses: all of my mistakes now painfully clear the wool smell […]

clearing sky– cherry petals lying blown upon the asphalt– what have you taught us except to fall, and fall, and fall? published in American Tanka #16

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