H. Edgar Hix

Zen Map

Leafless ivy on a brick wall:
A map pointing everywhere
and nowhere.

H. Edgar Hix is a Minnesota poet who believes short and short-short poetry is the ripple of the future of English language poetry and, perhaps, poetry worldwide because English speakers love one-lines of all kinds.


Dawn Corrigan

Invincible Summer

On the beach
in Zihuatanejo
Andy and Red
hard at work
on their next boat
are interrupted
when a green Ford
drops from the sky
carrying two women–
dirty, windblown,
but very much alive.

Dawn Corrigan can’t stop watching the alternate ending of “Thelma & Louise.”


George Salamon

We’ll Watch Again, Somewhere

After it was all over
and the sun and stars
had come up and gone
down for the last time.
we sat down together
and decided to wait and
watch what was on next.

George Salamon hopes that when it comes, it will be as funny as” Dr. Strangelove.”


Steve Klepetar

On the Platform

The train was late, so we stood on the platform
staring down the track into darkness,
and my father said
“Don’t wish your life away,”

said it with a slight smile, a little joke,
a little wisdom I could have for free

as I walked down to the far end and back
just to feel my legs move, shake off the weight
of doing nothing, and then the train roared in

and we’re riding into night,
rain beating against the windows,
thickening, turning to snow as we travel west.

Steve Klepetar has cancelled his trip to Canada because they won’t let him buy Nova Scotia.


Steve Klepetar

From the Undertow

A woman pulls herself from the undertow,
half blinded by the sun, for she has struggled

a long time against this kind of drowning,
learned to float, respect the waves without enmity

or fear, learned to empty herself when ocean
rumbles beneath a vacant sky, learned to trust

her hands while singers gather on the beach,
voices weaving among shells and rocks

as she sits on the shore counting each breath,
every one her own miracle of mercy and grace.

Steve Klepetar has cancelled his trip to Canada because they won’t let him buy Nova Scotia.


Jon Densford

August Moon

The next night the full moon
wasn’t full any more,
just full of itself
and so broiling hot
it sweat diamond sweat drops
that hung in the sky
like melting stars.

Jon Densford, of Memphis TN, tried howling at the moon but found out the hard way that the moon don’t take no sass.


Scott Hughes


Today, on what would have been
our seventeenth anniversary,
I am instead alone, waist-deep
in the Atlantic, burying my feet
in sand like wet cement and leaning
toward the empty beach to steady
myself against the pull
of a wave building behind me,
and I wonder why I’m resisting
the ocean’s desire to carry me

farther out until the land
and everything I know
is too far away to see.

Scott Hughes has two books coming out, so check his website: www.writescott.com