Thomas A. Thomas
Bio: Thomas A. Thomas studied with Gregory Orr and Donald Hall at the University of Michigan, where he won both Hopwood Minor and Major Awards in Poetry. He later studied with Matthew Shenoda at Goddard College in the MFA program. His poems have appeared in Anesthesia Review, The Periodical Lunch, Writer’s Digest, Oberon, and most recently in FemAsia Magazine. His full length book Getting Here, published in 2005, received an Honorable Mention in the 14th Annual Writer's Digest International Self-Published Book Awards.
Thomas has been an active member in the Olympia Poetry Network for many years now, where he has twice been the Featured Reader in their monthly Series. During the Pandemic year of 2020 he has read for international and inclusive audiences in Cultivating Voices Facebook group, with writers from Ireland, India, Canada and numerous other countries, and was also featured in the 100,000 Poets for Change, a Toronto Canada ZOOM event with poets from 4 continents and 8 time zones.
Thomas has been an active member in the Olympia Poetry Network for many years now, where he has twice been the Featured Reader in their monthly Series. During the Pandemic year of 2020 he has read for international and inclusive audiences in Cultivating Voices Facebook group, with writers from Ireland, India, Canada and numerous other countries, and was also featured in the 100,000 Poets for Change, a Toronto Canada ZOOM event with poets from 4 continents and 8 time zones.
this red cedar canopy a raven speaks
introduces a new silence
to the forest: no breeze, no bird,
a breath being held, then
loud crack echo
rustling of leaves and branches
falling through other branches
as a tree gives itself back to earth
Tahoma
.png)
say heron, say kingfisher,
say that was the tenth summer
my wife was dying and I
was not.
Instead of god say
a name, like Ann or Grace
or Joy, say the one who broke
me open in a new way this
wholly unexpected time.
Instead of god say love
let joy in the side door and she
sits in the kitchen now in the
warmth of fresh bread and
cinnamon and honey.
Instead of god say only
desire, want, say pomegranate,
poplar tree, say stay, say please,
say thank you, say love again
dark and light and forever.
Almost Touching
.jpg)
Your boat, still moored in the bay, your horse
upon the meadow, your cairn grows
beside the high trail where you lay down
to let go, as you wished: in sunlight, near a peak.
Years pass, and still I carry a stone for you
to bring it up late spring, when salmon fry stir
and sandpipers and Dunlin are a line of smoke
blown North along that rough coast you also loved.
Mother and child swimming in stars
.jpg)
