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Tom Snarsky

@tomsnarsky.bsky.social

5.6K followers 4.7K following 3.4K posts

He collected things, each of a holy intention in isolation, but pagan in the variety of his choice. —William Gaddis 📚 @anothernewcalligraphy.com, @ornithopterpress.bsky.social, @animalheartpress.bsky.social, @brokensleepbooks.bsky.social

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Tom Snarsky @tomsnarsky.bsky.social · Jul 17

today is the release day for A Letter From The Mountain & Other Poems (@animalheartpress.bsky.social)!! here is a poem from the book I’m particularly fond of—many, many thanks to all the folks who have preordered a copy already, it means the world to me & I’m so grateful for your kind support :’)

Sonnet

In the dark room a reliable ocean
sounds mix on YouTube replaces day
and night with barely
-perceptible differences in volume
between high and low tide. No birds
ever seem to get near the mic,
which is like a miracle if the kind of miracle
you’re into doesn't have birds in it.

In the reliable ocean sounds mix on You
Tube’s comments section, there's one guy
with no likes or replies saying “Thank you,
this video helps my son
fall asleep, nothing else has worked as well
as this video.”

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Reposted by Tom Snarsky

🏳️‍⚧️ m e g a n 🏳️‍⚧️ @megagarbage.bsky.social · 6h

me when the tiger gets out of its cage:

Tom Snarsky @tomsnarsky.bsky.social · 12h

K. Curtis Lyle

There is the SPIRIT
There is the SPIRIT
There is the SPIRIT
There is the SPIRIT

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Tom Snarsky @tomsnarsky.bsky.social · 12h

K. Curtis Lyle

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Tom Snarsky @tomsnarsky.bsky.social · 1d

from Phantom Jams: koala-hexagon-75s7.squarespace.com/book/phantom...

PHANTOM JAMS - Halie Theoharides — b l u s h

Chapbook. Poetry. 5.5” x 8.5” 28 pp. International Orders available via Asterism Distribution here . "Phantom Jams" is a reference to a photocopier's error message. The poems in this chapbo...

koala-hexagon-75s7.squarespace.com

Tom Snarsky @tomsnarsky.bsky.social · 1d

Halie Theoharides

We tell ourselves a myth
We wait for a bigger entity
Some casual proof
To descend without trumpets
Before we’re let out
Into the big diorama of
Whatever things
Are sort of safe

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Reposted by Tom Snarsky

poemtoday.bsky.social @poemtoday.bsky.social · 1d

I and my thoughts of you

Remember that old thorn bush
amazed by
its one flower

If I stood by it, would it be diminished
as an image must be when
it stands beside
what it’s an image of?

Norman MacCaig

Image courtesy @tomsnarsky.bsky.social‬

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Tom Snarsky @tomsnarsky.bsky.social · 1d

Barbara Reisner

When I go for a walk,
dogs sniff between my legs.
I still remember from
another life when I
cried to eat the flesh
of god.

The truth is we are holy,
and we are buried to
quiet the earth.

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Tom Snarsky @tomsnarsky.bsky.social · 1d

Richard Siken

DOTS EVERYWHERE

I erased my legs and forgot to draw in the stilts.
It looks like I’m floating but I’m not floating.
Sometimes I draw you with fangs. I tell you these
things because I love you. Some people paint
with whiskey and call it social drinking. Some people
paint drunk and put dots of color everywhere.
In the morning the dots make them happy. I am
putting dots of color everywhere and you are sleeping.
Something has happened in the paint tonight and
it is worth keeping. It’s nothing like I thought it
would be and closer to what I meant. None of it is
real, darling. I say it to you. Maybe we will wake up
singing. Maybe we will wake up to the silence
of shoes at the foot of the bed not going anywhere.

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Tom Snarsky @tomsnarsky.bsky.social · 2d

from Against Perfectionism & Other Poems, pub. @robmclennan.bsky.social: abovegroundpress.blogspot.com/2025/09/new-...

new from above/ground press: Against Perfectionism & Other Poems, by Jon Cone

Against Perfectionism & other poems JON CONE $6 HINGE Once upon a time poetry told us something. It was a map, an eyeglass. The name ...

abovegroundpress.blogspot.com

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Tom Snarsky @tomsnarsky.bsky.social · 2d

I thank the knife.

Jon Cone

AN ESSAY ON ONTOLOGICAL
PRAGMATISM

It is bitterly cold outside. The kitchen is cold. I thank the kettle. I thank the toaster. I thank the skillet. I thank the cutting board. I thank the knife. I thank the butter. I thank the water. I thank the raspberry jam. I thank the tea towel. I thank the coffee grounds I put into the compost tin. I thank the orange. I thank the orange peel. I thank the old round table. I thank the plate, the cup. The fork, the spoon. The small bowl of milk. The kitchen windows have ice. I must get window curtains. If you lean over the sink and look out the window at the far end of the street you see a pink aura announcing the sun’s arrival. I pick the cat's bowl up to clean it. I reach the cat food down from the cupboard. I thank the cat food and the cat bowl. The floor is dirty. It needs washing. I thank the floor.

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Reposted by Tom Snarsky

Susan Robertson @snullr.bsky.social · 2d

For @tomsnarsky.bsky.social 's #smallpoemsunday one from @roblucastaylor.bsky.social 's Weather.

A three line poem that reads

screen door--
one hundred sunrises
in the baby's palm

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Reposted by Tom Snarsky

Burgi Zenhaeusern @burgi.bsky.social · 2d

An October haiku from way back for #smallPoemSunday, published by UCity Review (also way back).
The weather is as clear today as when I wrote this.

October Sun

Glitter and sharpness
sever sky from crowns today.
No dulling the edge.

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Reposted by Tom Snarsky

Mitchell Nobis @mitchnobis.bsky.social · 3d

Hey @tomsnarsky.bsky.social's #smallpoemsunday, there's a real nice one in this @russellbrakefield.bsky.social book.

Morning Song

Today I am a bee
burrowing into a glass
jar of honey

recognizing finally
a sweet, still pool
of my own making.

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Reposted by Tom Snarsky

Elena “Eraserhead baby” Zhang @ezhang77.bsky.social · 3d

Lesle Lewis

#smallpoemsunday
@tomsnarsky.bsky.social

The End of Love We kiss farewell like a final goodbye.
Were the very last of the Love People.
Old love junk washes up in the mangroves.

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Reposted by Tom Snarsky

Kyla Houbolt @luaz.bsky.social · 3d

#SmallPoemSunday @tomsnarsky.bsky.social -- Her Eldritch Quest (which by the way is collected in my new book which is likely going to the printer *ahem* tomorrow.)

Her Eldritch Quest

Brigid, the Mother of Poetry, searches for her mate.
Among all the xillions of poets she has foaled,
she searches. She tells herself,
surely he is there somewhere, among our children!
A voice whispers look for the gull in the desert
and, being the ancestor of poets, she knows
just what is meant. A gull always knows where water is.
But, who said that? And can she trust him?

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Reposted by Tom Snarsky

Raymond Gibson’s ghost @raymondgibson.bsky.social · 3d

bsky.app/profile/raym...

Raymond Gibson’s ghost @raymondgibson.bsky.social · 3d

Edwin Muir #SmallPoemSunday

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Tom Snarsky @tomsnarsky.bsky.social · 3d

happy #smallpoemsunday! 💜

feel free to participate by posting small poems you wrote, +/or small poems you love by somebody else :)

here’s one by Norman MacCaig~

I and my thoughts of you

Remember that old thorn bush
amazed by
its one flower

If I stood by it, would it be diminished
as an image must be when
it stands beside
what it’s an image of?

December 1968

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Reposted by Tom Snarsky

Özge Lena @lenaozge.bsky.social · 3d

"A blue horse born in my blood."

#poetry #smallpoemsunday @tomsnarsky.bsky.social

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Tom Snarsky @tomsnarsky.bsky.social · 3d

Jack Clarke

It took me
just six
million years
to get here
with enough
oxygen
to breathe
the sun
and now you
want me
to give it up
and go back
to that
starry night

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Tom Snarsky @tomsnarsky.bsky.social · 3d

saying goodbye to my 2003 Toyota Camry tomorrow; grateful to the way it shuffled me for a decade, to & from teaching jobs in two states, and always had room for car books