Tag Archives: Heidi Garnett

In Great Company – Heidi Garnett’s Poem in Your Pocket

Wish List I want to meet a blue parakeet that reads the future pulling Tarot cards with one delicate outstretched foot, the hanged man uncovered.  I want to own a Corvette, a 1960 red and white convertible hardtop and drive around town with my dog Bud.  I want to write love poems as if world […]

The Bigness of Small Poems – # 23 in a Series – Heidi Garnett’s Poetry of Witness

Hatchling A TV screen flickers blue in a darkened living room. A man sits on a back stoop with his dog. He scans the sky for signs of thinning cracks, something chipping in the sky’s brittle shell with its egg tooth. A night heron, rune for soul, pierces a minnow with its sharp eye. The […]

The Bigness of Small Poems – # 2 in a Series – Heidi Garnett

Crane Red-winged blackbirds sway on willow branches. Air bends to accommodate the slight weight. Day dies in the west. The crane, rune for soul, spears a minnow with its dark eye. The soul’s hunger is small, but precise. Heidi Garnett, 2016, With Permission of the Author I am a sucker for poems with soul mentioned […]

Something Not Sayable – A Post for Heidi’s Mother

                        My Mother’s Foot The main door into the nursing home slides open, an exhalation of stale air. The gift shop still has hand-knitted toques and scarves for sale, though it’s the first day of Spring. There is a leather chesterfield and matching love seat. […]

The Secret Life of Things – More Poems and Poets on Paying Attention

  Everything is Waiting for You Your great mistake is to act the drama as if you were alone. As if life were a progressive and cunning crime with no witness to the tiny hidden transgressions. To feel abandoned is to deny the intimacy of your surroundings. Surely, even you, at times, have felt the […]

An Alphabet of Poets – G is for Garnett

Worship Light beginning again in the east, superstitions of nut hatches and finches, heartbreak of robin’s eggs. Tell me about that colour. Not this mud-light tipped from a rain barrel, this wet earth knotted into a rope, loose twist of water, loose twist of darkness. No.  This other, this speckled light, this fawn light born […]