Book of the Week – tiny droppings by Zane Parks

tiny droppings by Zane Parks reveals itself through accumulation.  This slim volume gathers haiku, senryu, and tanka that move through bars, city streets, family memories, relationships, addiction, weather, and ordinary encounters. The result is a portrait of a life observed without much self-protection.

In his introduction, Carlos Colón describes Parks as a poet whose work ranges from gulls and sunsets to junkies and drive-bys, from nostalgia to irreverence. That range is evident throughout the collection.

One of the opening poems establishes the collection’s blend of humour and unease:

not knowing
where to start
cheap toilet paper (p. 3)

The poem is funny, but it also captures a familiar feeling of being overwhelmed. The mundane object becomes a surprisingly effective vehicle for uncertainty.

A few lines later, Parks shifts into a very different register:

foggy
cliff, sea and sky
where one begins
and another ends (p. 3)

The poem is rooted in landscape, yet its concerns are larger than geography. Boundaries dissolve. The image quietly raises questions about identity, separation, and perception.

Family appears throughout the collection, often through small but memorable details:

in response
to mom’s demand
eat something green
grandma nudges the pickles
toward me (p. 6)

The humour here comes from affection rather than sarcasm. Three generations occupy the poem, and a family dynamic unfolds without explanation.

Parks is equally capable of confronting harsher realities:

junkie shooting up
the whole bus looks
away (p. 9)

The poem refuses sensationalism. The focus is not on the addict but on collective avoidance. What lingers is the uncomfortable recognition of shared complicity.

Perhaps the most memorable poem in the collection is also one of its simplest:

christmas eve
pretending sleep
pretending
sleep (p. 10)

Many readers will recognise the childhood excitement contained in those repeated words. The poem captures anticipation so completely that it scarcely needs interpretation.

Throughout tiny droppings, Parks moves comfortably between tenderness and grit. A grandmother’s hand tapping along to “Amazing Grace,” a gull suspended against the wind, smokers huddled beneath an awning, and a spider reluctantly relocated during a move all become worthy subjects for poetry. The collection reminds us that haiku and senryu can accommodate both beauty and disorder.

Reading these poems, I was struck by how often Parks finds meaning in situations that might otherwise be dismissed as trivial. The title itself seems to point toward this aesthetic. Small things, overlooked things, fragments of experience. Together they form a life.

As you read the collection, consider which poems stay with you. Is it the landscape pieces, the family moments, or the more unsettling urban scenes? What do they reveal about the kinds of details we choose to notice?

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You can read the entire collection in the THF Digital Library.

The THF Digital Library can now also be easily found through the carousel on the home page, making it easier to discover books, journals, and other resources from the archive.

Do you have a full-length or chapbook collection published in 2021 or earlier that you would like featured as a Book of the Week? Contact us for details. Book of the Week selections are made by THF Digital Librarian Vidya Premkumar and are featured with permission.