Category Archives: early poems

Simple

Posted on September 2, 2012 by heath quinn

I’m blots of ink, a line or two, a supergirl you draw from inner sight. Now split the paper with your pen to find my comic heart. © 6 Jan 2009, Heather Quinn, all rights reserved; edited 5 Jan 2012, … Continue reading →

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Clouds, like Toledo

Posted on January 2, 2012 by heath quinn

Riding south, across the river, a mile below the Bridge, see? A tower and forested hills, with leaves glowing in nooks in the bare, smoky trees, as if someone’s been shooting paintballs there, and the wind shearing the earth to … Continue reading →

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A poem, an edit

Posted on September 8, 2011 by heath quinn

A poem’s beginning is maybe a waking dream — expressed in words. Inside that beginning, the writer hides something secret, even from him- or herself.    share?

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Spelling your name, 3 drafts

Posted on May 4, 2009 by heath quinn

Last night I fell asleep under only a sheet. There was a chill rain all night, and my windows were open. Later I woke from the cold. My right hand was tracing the name of the man I love in … Continue reading →

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Callery pears

Posted on April 21, 2009 by heath quinn

Callery pears, their white lace and cream like Watteau; the etchiness of oaks in bud, scribbled high. Reach for the sky, the sap’s up! As sweet and raw as a wood fire am I, and sad as the sea. What … Continue reading →

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Why I love newspapers

Posted on March 3, 2009 by heath quinn

Or is it newscreens, newswebs or newsnets? I haven’t bought a paper paper in more than a year. One of my fav’s, TOI, isn’t available at my local newsstand. What’s the newsstand guy going to do when we’re all reading … Continue reading →

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For the first time

Posted on February 26, 2008 by heath quinn

For the first time,   I face the edge of      me & the world,drawn like a line   of Conté red      on pale paper:If I cross I’m dead. Holding my arms over   bowed head, all these      years of self defense,I didn’t know   there was a line to see. I … Continue reading →

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An L Lies down in Laziness

Posted on October 4, 2007 by heath quinn

an L Lies down in Laziness in Line and Line a brokenness bent symboL of a Lambent sound of words Like Love Lost Light and Life Lyric to an EngLish mind an aum entrains an m like this औम and … Continue reading →

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There’s a room I keep for you (reworked)

Posted on August 16, 2007 by heath quinn

There’s a room I keep for you in the woods near a spring, a mountain cabin with blued-edged corners, soft cream-colored walls, a lilac bush growing by the door. The door is never locked, though it has a key. The … Continue reading →

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There’s a room I keep for you

Posted on August 13, 2007 by heath quinn

There’s a room I keep for you, a study in the woods, a simple cabin in the mountains, near a cool spring. It has blued-edged corners, cream-colored walls, very soft, an old lilac bush outside the door. The door is … Continue reading →

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Unpunctuated (reworked)

Posted on August 12, 2007 by heath quinn

dark light frogs sing in the night of me tigers stroll in the crowns of trees my words slid from the strings of me lose softness in your strong square hands the hour is late tigers hunt frogs sing in … Continue reading →

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Unpunctuated

Posted on August 9, 2007 by heath quinn

in dark of night frogs sing tigers take long quiet strides you with strong square hands slide words like pearls off my strings meant only for you unstrung words lose the softness of me tigers hunt in the fields the … Continue reading →

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Perfect (open-ended)

Posted on August 4, 2007 by heath quinn

Two-thousand-meters-high icey-pristine. Soft, warm and welcome as mothers (can be). Powerful, valiant, just like my dad. Pear-sweet crisp-apple-ish classically bad. Noblesse oblige of the high-wired kind. A mind soaked in honesty, gulabi-style. Compassion in person for all that you meet. … Continue reading →

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Masala lines

Posted on August 2, 2007 by heath quinn

(now then now) I send my prayers on winds to clear a fog of mind all smiles to dry some very hidden tears a kiss to smooth that noble worried brow my gentle hands to take away the briers you … Continue reading →

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Mood indigo (original)

Posted on August 1, 2007 by heath quinn

in this quiet indigo place where lake slides over shore or shore’s dark hands reach into lake where rain surprises grass to beat it into reed and water-hyacinth in this indigo quiet cloud glances down and back with coyness as … Continue reading →

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Characters like offerings

Posted on July 29, 2007 by heath quinn

Characters like offerings thrown on oceans under shifting skies, bob up and down on sparkled wavelets of desire, where force of gravitas pulls focus on a single all to all that sucks in hard, and spits back out again. With … Continue reading →

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The jackal and the tigers

Posted on January 1, 2007 by heath quinn

a jackal sniffing at tigers’ prey, surprised by the moon in the night, cries at the moon as if it’s a man. then it gnashes its teeth and eats. under the trees, the tigers recline, and watch the jackal feed. … Continue reading →

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A wild house mouse

Posted on December 12, 2006 by heath quinn

a mouse a mouse wild in the house clothed in velvet soft like a cat gray as a stone with apple-seed eyes looking for rice share?

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Life on a little table

Posted on November 11, 2006 by heath quinn

this little table is chaos for me home, exhausted i shed what i wear the table holds artifacts of no time and offerings for myself, set in silver, like these: moonstone pendant, a polished sliver of clouds and blue sky; … Continue reading →

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Intentions

Posted on October 31, 2006 by heath quinn

Stepping from a cab onto a rainy street in New York City where I live I’m splashed by cabs that pass at speed forcing force sheets of dirty water up and over enemies on foot, like me. Like that, the … Continue reading →

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