Sean Denmark Brighton Beach I wasn’t told about snow on the sand. Sean Denmark (www.seandenmark.com) has been waiting for the mail.
Read More08/03/2018 — 0
Poems
08/02/2018 — 0
Steve Klepetar “Red Maple”
Steve Klepetar Red Maple Some faces you have forgotten, but others crowd your dreams, and when you wake in summer, they linger near the red maple that glitters in your yard. Steve Klepetar, a regular contributor on One Sentence Poems, is an only child who dreams up strange siblings.
Read More08/01/2018 — 0
Steve Klepetar “The Weight of Time”
Steve Klepetar The Weight of Time What will become of the cardinal I saw flitting from our deck to a young tree’s naked branch, red flash against the sky? Steve Klepetar, a regular contributor on One Sentence Poems, is an only child who dreams up strange siblings.
Read More07/31/2018 — 0
Steve Klepetar “By the Sea”
Steve Klepetar By the Sea My sister, who lived by the sea, had a mind like an ocean, tangled with wind and sky, a body made of fog that leaped into air, became a kestrel or gull whose secret name hung ragged in winter trees. Steve Klepetar, a regular contributor on One Sentence Poems, is […]
Read More07/28/2018 — 0
Nancy Scott “David”
Nancy Scott David You learn to play guitar while counting two more years ’til retirement, practicing chord changes, thinking of adding a digital piano because you already have the telescope and the lathe. Nancy Scott‘s essays and poems-have recently appeared in, among others, Braille Forum, Chrysanthemum, Disabilities Studies Quarterly, Philadelphia Stories, and Wordgathering.
Read More07/27/2018 — 0
Deonte Osayande “Black Love”
Deonte Osayande On an app dedicated to black love I found more white people than I have ever met in my real life, our own spaces away from this void of whiteness but just like our history, even that will eventually be invaded. Black Love Deonte Osayande […]
Read More07/26/2018 — 0
Deonte Osayande “Things Left at 18063 Woodingham”
Deonte Osayande Birth certificates, in the safe with the guns, with my slave name diplomas, my broken laptop from years back, notebooks containing years of old love poems that I used to write, mail from over many months ago, innocence and other falsehoods, my sister, and her kids, old photos of childlike versions of me, […]
Read More07/25/2018 — 0
Ken Slaughter “At the Pie Social”
Ken Slaughter At the Pie Social A man whose name i can’t recall leads the woman with Alzheimer’s by the hand down the aisle to a piano where she sits in front of an empty music stand and begins to play “Sunrise, sunset”. Ken Slaughter is a tanka writer who dabbles in other short poetry […]
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