RINGED
Rebecca Weiner Tompkins
I wear the heaviness of my mother’s rings:
the deep shaded carnelian--burgundy
slab--and the veined malachite--oblong green.
I don’t usually favor silver, plus they’re huge
even on my own large long hands.
My si...
THE GARDEN
Rebecca Weiner Tompkins
Once I pushed the tiller round
and round, breaking circles
concentric in the dry, knotty
ground. What we'd planted
before had gone to seasons
so long past, the weeds' hold
had returned, rooted
in clumps of gray rock
...
Episode 6 – Rebecca Weiner Tompkins
Rebecca Weiner Tompkins
Rebecca Weiner Tompkins in conversation with Bernard Meisler.
Rebecca Weiner Tompkins is a fine poet. Her most excellent collection of poems, King of the Fireflies, was recently published by Sensitive Skin Books. Ad...
In This Dream
Rebecca Weiner Tompkins
IN THIS DREAM
We are always dancing:
you lift your arms above me
like a bird in a summery place.
Sometimes there is music
and the softest shadows;
other times the air carries us
through the rhythm of tall, flat buil...
Two Poems For Fall by Rebecca Weiner Tompkins
Rebecca Weiner Tompkins
ANOTHER AUTUMNAL
Sometimes I imagine
parking lots are water, dark seas
no longer dry ground
but not either anywhere to drown.
Sometimes all the trees in the park
are radiant yellow
in the end of November twiligh...
Landscape with a Bear in It Somewhere
Rebecca Weiner Tompkins
The limber late light
travels across the ridge
where the bear climbed.
Even with my head thrown back
I still can’t take in the tops
of the tall pointed trees
up there. A friend’s death
is flickering in and out
of...
Two Poems by Rebecca Weiner Tompkins
Rebecca Weiner Tompkins
AFTER YOU SAID I ALWAYS LOSE THINGS
The red birthstone fell
out of my ring, leaving
its crowned prongs empty,
a perfect chip chiseled
from my heart’s bones.
I dreamed being stopped by
the long dark walkway
w...
MAYDAY, MAYDAY
Rebecca Weiner Tompkins
The white rain of petals that fell for a week is done.
What catches now in my hair
are the dried blossoms of the Callery Pear,
startling and crackly, as they float and scatter,
rattling through the trees to the street l...
Electronic Dialogue & other poems
Rebecca Weiner Tompkins
Electronic Dialogue
I
At my wife’s grave
it's changed a lot in a month;
someone's planted some forget me nots.
It's windy and flower petals from the trees are making pink
whirlwinds.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?...
