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...

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...

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...

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...

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?...