For Sale: Baby shoes. Never worn.   By Hemmingway

With bloody hands, I say good-bye.   By Frank Miller

He loved, lied, and was left.

I saw, darling, but do lie.   By Orson Scott Card

Once read it can’t be unread.

Six word stories make me pause.

Discovering himself clothed, he felt relief.

Crossed seas for you. Too bad.

I said I do forever…maybe

We crossed the border; they killed us.   By Howard Waldrop

My secret discovered. Plane ticket purchased.  

After she died, he came alive.   By Rebecca James

There were only six words left.   By Gregory Maguire

Thought I was right. I wasn’t.   By Graeme Gibson

Corpse parts missing. Doctor buys yacht.   By Margaret Atwood

We kissed. She melted. Mop please!   By James Patrick Kelly

The baby’s blood type? Human, mostly.   By Orson Scott Card

“I couldn’t believe she’d shoot me.”   By Howard Chaykin

One gun, two shots, three dead.   By Marcy

There were only six words left. by Gregory Maguire

Aliens appeared, searched for intelligence, left. —    By Bob Greenberg

Living is easy with eyes closed

Cursed with cancer, blessed with friends

Not quite was I was planning

When all else fails, just dance

My Life: A Book In Progress

Can’t make a million with poetry

Somehow I became my favourite teacher

That? That was just a story