One Sentence Poems

H. Edgar Hix Snow Has Its Own Little Ways Snow has its own little ways: melting when you don’t expect it, flying from the breeze to your glasses, keeping the dead mouse hidden until spring, showing up on schedule or not, calling you from her new boyfriend’s to ask you to get her the sparkly […]

H. Edgar Hix Soldier’s Body A raven pecking at a seedling of somebody’s love. H. Edgar Hix is always impressed by people who will put their lives where their beliefs are, though not always with their beliefs.  

H. Edgar Hix Wilderness for HLH and shared vision So still I can hear the deer munch; so loud I hear the autumn sky falling. H. Edgar Hix is, therefore he thinks.

H. Edgar Hix Old Woman with a Walker She wears her life like she wears her lipstick: broad, too bright, and of her own volition. H. Edgar Hix is, therefore he thinks.

H. Edgar Hix Late April Snow Watching it through the window of the preemie ward: delicate, unexpected, brief. H. Edgar Hix is like blood: still in circulation, liking to be read.

H. Edgar Hix The Echoes Worse than the screams are the echoes that whisper, “The emptiness is already here.” H. Edgar Hix is still H. Edgar Hixing around south Minneapolis to the pleasure of a few, the dismay of a few more, and the complete indifference of most.

H. Edgar Hix The Echoes Worse than the screams are the echoes that whisper, “The emptiness is already here.” H. Edgar Hix is still H. Edgar Hixing around south Minneapolis to the pleasure of a few, the dismay of a few more, and the complete indifference of most.

H. Edgar Hix Viewing The storm is in full bloom and I can barely wait for the next lightning to pollinate the earth with sizzling ozone. H. Edgar Hix is still H. Edgar Hixing around south Minneapolis to the pleasure of a few, the dismay of a few more, and the complete indifference of most.