truly! we love stephanie's poems

or sincerity—minor/major/otherwise/in. It was good noodles

under stuttered brown light. My understanding cast itself

into the line drawing we inhabit—pushing, pushing.

@azimmerman.bsky.social from issue 9

thetinymag.com/amie-zimmerman

less space than me; how I wag my pallbearer’s head

at any less than full collapse; how there is purpose

to cartography beyond counting the measure. I almost left!

Year of jubilation! My practice of writing about desire for silence

does not bring me closer to the totality of perfect rest

something inside you finally feels instinctual
says it should be $5
your stomach says $5
not the chicken

Violet Spurlock from issue 11

thetinymag.com/violet-spurlock

down my chest. I let you 
take it off me, in my mind, 
because you were far away. 
I felt impossibly jealous 
of your hands on a glass 
in Philadelphia. Of the glass, 
I mean, which got to 
touch you. It was so dumb. 

Stephanie Cawley from issue 12

thetinymag.com/stephanie-cawley

You can’t see
your own face, what I kept 
repeating the day we hardly 
left bed. When we did 
we watched a man turn into 
a fly on film. A life was just 
a collection of images 
happening to one person. 
A kind of screen 
for experience. I wanted, 
vaguely, to cry. 
I wore a shirt that buttoned

who put away the altar years ago

And care. What is it?

Raquel Gutiérrez from issue 4
thetinymag.com/raquel-gutierrez

be with someone that can find and put out the fires during a drought.

Who will take care of you when gossip surrounds you like revelers and effigy, who will watch over the you

I love to brandish my conflicted lips
dry goods some just raid I
wear my karma so it shows

Steven Alvarez from issue 6

thetinymag.com/steven-alvarez

to a small town lawyer little
lettuce a bunch of poison arrows
but I watched
how a mist cd coax it open
I exited the arena in my underwear waving a chair
do they make hand pajamas
I wuz lying in the bathtub infected but I still
remember it as a very good time