One Sentence Poems

Karen Greenbaum-Maya Pocket Park, Paris Water blows from the carp’s mouth, crowning the fountain, spills smoothly over the flounce of stone into the painted basin. Karen Greenbaum-Maya, Pushcart nominee, occasional photographer, and former German major, would rather be in Paris. http://www.cloudslikemountains.blogspot.com/

Karen Greenbaum-Maya Oak Apples Glossy leather skin shriveling to a dry planetoid smaller than an egg, falling back on its armature, cracks betraying craters, pinholes, the debut of forty-one departing gall wasps: the oak swelled this squat gray sphere to wall off seepage, wanting a prison, making a nursery. Karen Greenbaum-Maya, retired clinical psychologist, former […]