Urban Tumbleweed.

By TygerLily Ernst Wonch

A chapbook containing poems inspired by the travels of the TygerLily Ernst Wonch. From Vermont to New Mexico. From homelessness to happiness. Each poem takes you down a path...where it ends, who knows?

• Language: English
• Publisher: TygerLily Ernst Wonch
• Release date: Apr 1, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476470535

TygerLily Ernst Wonch

TygerLily Ernst Wonch is a native of Illinois and has studied creative writing at the University of Nebraska. In 2004, her stream of consciousness writing style won her the Prairie Schooner scholarship for poetry at the Nebraska Writers Workshop. TygerLily's work has appeared in Red Fez #35, Girls with Insurance, The Smoking Poet, Thieves Jargon and other publications. In addition, she is the author of the chapbooks "Urban Tumbleweed" and "i made you a tape" and is currently busy working on a comic book series titled "Myles: The Real Boy".

Book preview

Urban Tumbleweed

Poetry by TygerLily Ernst Wonch

SMASHWORDS EDITION

© 2012 Unfortunate Bohemia Press

Table of Contents

*Introduction: Dreaming in Metaphor

*NEBRASKA I

#16 Irving School

A Wednesday in Summer

*VERMONT I

swf

Tuesdays

*GEORGIA

Atlanta

Twins

Seattle

To Pebbles, with Love

*INTERMISSION: 1980 Toyota Corona and Eulogy

*NEBRASKA II

Bus Station

Peducah

Pleasure

My Lips Infatuated

Seduction

Tender

Torture

The Celluloid Mirror

Lonely

Goodbye

*VERMONT II

Currently Titled Tempest

Norweiga

*NEBRASKA (the finale)

Tea with Fritz

reminiscing

Obscene

plastic smiles and dead window fans

california

The Zealot

Bottom-feeder

Untitled

END: Like Tumbleweeds

+++++

dreaming in metaphor.

last night I dreamt of Warhol

wearing green crushed polyester,

his arms spread as he flew in a

water colored, tie-dyed, psychedelic sky.

with his feet on the ground,

and nose pressed to glass,

he watched me trapped in Hopper

on my knees

with Chop Suey dripping down my chin.

my dreams turn to leather pants

and Hendrix as court jester,

listening to the chain squeak

as I sway

on the red velvet swing.

soon visions mutate in the

Crayola Midnight Blue

with sleepy memories of

a bone breaking

on a tire swing dismount,

Orange Crush tickling my tongue

coloring it fluorescent in jest,

while I laugh at her failure to fly.