Photography © Chad Parenteau

 

Tiny Denim Pockets

searching for hummingbirds-
the only left to do
after the Townes song

 
 

smiling serenely-
the stone Buddha
surveys fire & flood

 
 

forgotten passwords-
only leaves
falling in the wind

 
 

dirty dishes-
a champagne flute
filled with milk

 
 

mere anarchy-
a scarecrow
kissing the beehive

 
 

a smoky sprawl
on four paws-
the cat at midday

 
 

Xanadu-
the divorcee’s
empty bookshelf

 
 

Bering walkway-
rumbling stomachs
pollinate the planet

 
 

spent too long forgetting-
toilet paper in autumn leaves

 
 

21st century amygdala-
still boiling over
with war

 
 

post coital breakfast-
we laugh over
unpronounceable ingredients

 
 

relapse-
the buzzard’s shadow
disappears into mine

 
 

multiplication tables-
lying untouched
beside the sonogram

 
 

exorcism-
the callous text
unsent

 
 

remission-
keys are found
where they are lost

 
 

butterflies in my stomach-
were they ever caterpillars?

 
 

two twigs
slurring smoke-
hope survives

 
 

empire of the inner ear-
civilization loses its balance

 
 

suburban sprawl-
all the hummingbirds
are drunk on nectar

 
 

goldfire flash of its eyes-
the bobcat in high beams

 
 

blessed solitude-
the wind
thumbing through an open book

 
 

hungover morning-
a mouse walks through
campfire ash

 

Keith R. Courtad. Ohio-based writer of tiny poems and brief fiction. Generally avoiding the present as much as possible by wistfully longing for the 1990s. Obsessively watching Richard Linklater’s Slacker, listening to Unwound and Fugazi, and shirking most, if not all, pressing matters of a responsible human adult.

Chad Parenteau is Associate Editor of Oddball Magazine.