One Sentence Poems

Kyle Hemmings Wreckage I don’t dream anymore, only think about winter ships, your blue lips trapped in the sinkhole under the shipwreck that was us. Kyle Hemmings has been published in Right Hand Pointing and Unbroken Journal. He loves street photography and obscure 60s garage bands.  

Kyle Hemmings Beautiful You’re most beautiful when you’re most angry, confusing antipasto with antipathy and we both quietly go hungry. Kyle Hemmings has been published in Right Hand Pointing and Unbroken Journal. He loves street photography and obscure 60s garage bands.  

Kyle Hemmings Breadcrumbs  She feeds breadcrumbs to the birds until they stop visiting and she has to eat the stale pieces herself, feeling a fluttering in her throat. Kyle Hemmings wishes he could play in an obscure ’60s garage band but he’s too young.

Kyle Hemmings Nursing Home Kismet She mistakes me for the man in the photo, the one in the pinstripe suit, whom she married in Las Vegas some fifty years ago, but I’m too lonely and withered to make revisions. Kyle Hemmings is a failed blogger who thinks he can still skateboard.