Matt Quinn At the water’s edge I write your name in pebbles – not sand this time, but still, the tide. Matt Quinn of Brighton, England has very little to say for himself and so rejoices in the one-sentence limit imposed at One Sentence Poems.
Read MoreDale Wisely
Matt Quinn: “Apostasy”
Matt Quinn Apostasy From a crack in the great grey orthodoxy of pavement, a shocking heresy of green. Matt Quinn of Brighton, England has very little to say for himself and so rejoices in the one-sentence limit imposed at One Sentence Poems.
Read MoreMatt Quinn: [untitled]
Matt Quinn [untitled] Rumours of terrorists in my heart – I set up checkpoints. Matt Quinn of Brighton, England has very little to say for himself and so rejoices in the one-sentence limit imposed at One Sentence Poems.
Read MoreBrad Rose: “August, California Central Valley”
Brad Rose August, California Central Valley Cicadas weep at August’s unbearable oblivion, as noon slumps against the oaks’ missing shadows. Brad Rose is the author of the collection of poems and fiction, Pink X-Ray, and links to Brad’s fiction and poetry can be found at http://bradrosepoetry.blogspot.com.
Read MoreBrad Rose: “After Police Find Invisible Ink in Her Room, Mata Hari is Executed by Firing Squad”
Brad Rose After Police Find Invisible Ink in Her Room, Mata Hari is Executed by Firing Squad The prosecution said, She is so devious she wears her own body as a disguise. Brad Rose is the author of the collection of poems and fiction, Pink X-Ray, and links to Brad’s fiction and poetry can be […]
Read MoreIngrid Bruck: “In a fight over the children…”
Ingrid Bruck In a fight over the children, moon pushes waves out and the ocean pulls them back. Ingrid Bruck expresses the delight she discovers in nature by writing short forms.
Read MoreSteve Klepetar: “Mille Feuille”
Steve Klepetar Mille Feuille I’m looking for someone along this deserted street, near a café where once we ate the best Mille Feuille I ever tasted, but she’s been gone for hours, long after all the trucks rolled away and busses gasped and vanished in the heat. Steve Klepetar is still looking for the café […]
Read Moretorrin a. greathouse: “Genealogy”
torrin a. greathouse Genealogy These days all my poems are born with brown eyes & i don’t know where they came from. torrin a. greathouse is a queer, nonbinary poet from southern california, whose work you can find at howdoipronouncetheatsign.tumblr.com.
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