the tiny

@thetinymag.bsky.social

thetinymag.com poetry journal edited by gina myers and ebs sanders

This year marks 20 years since the tiny published its first issue. Today, we’re opening submissions for our fourteenth issue.  the tiny adheres to the guidelines of the Palestinian Campaign for the Academic and Cultural Boycott of Israel (PACBI). See more details here: thetinymag.com/submit

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Take the foot, for example, as the accessible metaphor & since it has now been mentioned, spoiled. Conceptual thought starts as a lie; the permit was paid for just not on time. The structure of self is that each person packed into this room needs

if we lived in poems we’d never watch TV well, we would, but with an audience watching us trying to be an audience awkward to have a record of aimless spirals’ varying degrees of casualness some days nothing crystallizes until you see an overpriced chicken

I had to pretend I hadn’t just made myself come. I couldn’t remember  if I washed the wetness  off my hands. For days  I thought of nothing  but getting you off.  It was humid. I sweat through my shirts. I couldn’t  tell anyone, kept studying  my face in the mirror.

Follow The Spirit, The Trail of Slurring Auras that ride the night tearful ad hominem inside an ambulance. Fighting cocks inside your ribcage, the Internet said a heart attack. Prattle the idle, coaxing needles needling the need to

my house is my horse I am never not surprised by yr gentleness I just missed the most watched television program ever among morning leaves puddles the sun bees hovered abt the sugar skulls dirty & sweet on the rusty candelabras candied violet in the skull’s last hat I really want to stick it

A Train Refrain train as vehicle as music train as ritual as flag train as timepiece a marker train as geometry or frame train as library, memory train as flight and dive train is as a cormorant, as lung, hook, and eye train as the train is a train easing into its terminal

I give up my lizard yeah go find heat buddy I live in a bank it’s all like “water” I’m like “ca$h” dammit $$$ so I don’t sun nor are there rocks to be upon I have bosses have bosses have pulled through by noses I’m a dry fish is how I met the lizard yes lizard in the day’s heat pulsed and shone

orange blossoms orange blossoms the ruinous before us, celebrating though ghostly apparition, ghostly occurrences, a wind thrashing, a rustle of leaves, freeways —