One Sentence Poems

Erica Goss The Rites of Solitude Let these be the rites of solitude: to keep the mind clean as a lighthouse, as if it were a sanctuary alive with our collected blessings. Erica Goss writes poetry and prose in a house on a hill in the South Willamette Valley.  

Erica Goss Penitent They die in secret places, bodies whisked away, not a scrap left behind, still I have found them, whole and pliable, eyes not yet dull, fit the small bulk into my palm, and felt as if I had broken a promise, failed to find the most obvious answer, when it was hitting […]

Erica Goss Fever Dream I have decided to let this infection till my body, though it may break me as surely as the plow broke the prairie, opening me like new soil for fine white roots, foreign seed. Erica Goss is the Poet Laureate of Los Gatos, CA.

Erica Goss The Scent of Orange Blossoms My father braked hard, kicked the car door open, and dancing, disappeared into the orchard yelling, do you smell them, do you smell – and into my freeway-leaded childhood the scent of orange blossoms wafted like a stranger’s perfume. Erica Goss is the Poet Laureate of Los Gatos, […]