dylan tweney

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

Tag: poetry

  • office plant

    even the pebbles are plastic

  • ripening persimmons ::

    a pink sky and the waning moon

  • Fellow Travelers

    I have traveled across the midriff of america in semidarkness

    the windows closed so I cannot see

    what waters stretch out before us or what cities alongside us

    the darkness and smells of sleep surround me

    and my companions rest their arms against my arms, thin

    layers of fabric all that keep our skin from touching

    as we speed through the sky in this act of levitation

    and combustion

    I read that the cloud industry now

    contributes as much carbon dioxide

    to the atmosphere as all of aviation

    and I’m left wondering how it is

    that even thoughts can cause tropical storms

    even clouds make fire and smoke

    these words depend on the cold rushing-forth of captured waters

    where fish no longer swim upstream

    on this plane we are all staring

    at the same tiny animated visions but if I lift my eyes

    this room is full of human bodies

    the backs of their heads

    are turned towards me, the other sides entrained

    by a song and dance number illustrating

    what to do in an emergency

    well I think we have an emergency now

    we are all deranged by loneliness

    and cannot tear our eyes away

    while the screens keep telling us

    just a little bit further now

    and you’ll be there

    and all the while

    there

    isn’t

    coming

  • The setting sun fills the darkening blue-purple sky with pink and orange streaks, vivid enough to catch my attention through the kitchen window. I step out onto the deck and the cool air on my face reminds me: It’s all still here.… Story continues … “”

  • in the train window
    a flock of black birds
    against the indigo sky
    and like ghost birds
    the reflections of streetlights

  • 3-0 game 

    in the blue sky 

    above the goalkeeper 

    a turkey vulture 

    turns and turns 

  • window seat

    image

    the shadow moves gently

    across the engine

    and I realize the plane is rocking very slightly

    as the captain’s hands on the controls

    — or perhaps it is the autopilot

    so it is the hands of the engineers

    who typed the code —

    are just barely rocking the plane 

    and all of us within it

    slipping through the currents of the sky

    so softly we can’t

    even feel it

  • A few thoughts on ModPo

    I was reluctant at first: A friend had taken the ModPo poetry course — twice — and she’s now pursuing an MFA at Columbia, living in a 4th-floor walkup while her wife remains here in San Francisco. I don’t need that kind of hassle in my life.… Story continues … “A few thoughts on ModPo”

  • Master class on prosody.

    Vox just dropped a 12-minute master class on prosody featuring some amazing rap lyrics. Rhyme, beats, metrical motives … this really covers some ground. Super cool.

    https://www.facebook.com/Vox/videos/520643354789938/

  • Blink, shimmer.

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