One Sentence Poems

Steve Klepetar It Doesn’t Matter how deep the water, or how cold, or the color of boats sailing behind the orange moon, or the timbre of voices you heard last night in that dream of home, or the many names on that hard, white list of your dead friends, or the delightful tang of apple […]

Steve Klepetar Over There I wonder why my neighbor is over there burying something in the grass by the burned out light rather than in her own back yard, but I guess whatever magic she holds in her capable hands must require this precise mood without intervention or superfluous words. Steve Klepetar does a credible […]

Steve Klepetar The End of the World The end of the world was a story we told ourselves to help us sleep, and some days it happened on the beach, with all the usual smells – peanuts and grilled meat, scented oils, salt and bodies rolling in the sand, while other times we saw a […]

Steve Klepetar Ten Thousand Steps I am walking now, trying to make ten thousand steps before the rains come and too many words spill down the canyons of this wild place where nothing hurts but the muscle in my back, the one that telegraphs weeping songs to green and wind-bent trees. Steve Klepetar is so […]

Steve Klepetar A Different Name In the end it didn’t matter as it rose in the sky like a new star, and though at first we wondered and worried over signs, we soon forgot it was there, went back to our phones as if it were nothing at all, an object without the terrible weight […]

Steve Klepetar The Secret’s Weight Tell me how you got there, I say, wondering at his ragged coat and torn boots, but though he smiles, he will not speak, as if he could no longer bear the secret’s weight on this cold night of fog and rain. In his most recent nightmare, Steve Klepetar is […]

Steve Klepetar Gracious In the end they were gracious, though I spoke too long of the Minoans, where they came from, their palaces and kings. Having once embarrassed himself mightily, Steve Klepetar always tries to wear matching socks.    

Steve Klepetar A Small Electric Storm When I paid for lunch, left a good tip, my dad was impressed, I could tell, because when he disappeared, the air above us shimmered a little and broke in a small electric storm. Steve Klepetar has never once eaten ice cream for breakfast, but he’d be interested to […]