Tim Tomlinson's poems

 Teesta Review: A Journal of Poetry, Volume 3, Number 2. November 2020. ISSN: 2581-7094


after James Salter 

                                     ---Tim Tomlinson

The beautiful,

the ordinary,

all that sustains or wears down …

it proceeds for hours and weeks and years


until it passes

like scenery on a roadside.


Dandelions amidst litter.

Men playing cards on folding chairs.

The guard house of a gated community.



does not appear on the page



The pets die,

the house goes into foreclosure,

the children drift off,

the family itself evaporates,

the dandelions blown away,


and yet


is this poem.

Rob Reads Allen Ginberg’s “Sunflower Sutra” to Me in his Mother’s Basement,

Wading River, Long Island, 1971


the Bay Area before the love-ins

and the dayglo and the Grateful Dead

boxcars and tincans and soot 

and a pair of old friends

trying to make sense

of fishless streams

and dirty locomotives

and flowers covered in grease 


and O! how that made me stand up

and O! how that made me cry

and O! when I remember that now

how I miss Rob and those afternoons

of suburban basement time travel beatnik

poem café sutra visions