Spring 2009, Volume 6

Poetry by Kyle Moreno

Haiku for Post-Partisan Politics

the lone spork asserts
itself in the silverware—
new mighty hybrid.

Names for Sons

I'm leaning toward "Marriage."

That way,
whenever the religious or traditionalists
or swooning romantics say,
"I'm saving myself for marriage,"
they'll be referring to my boy.

Phone Call to God

Can I talk to Hemingway?

Ernie? Why Ernie?

I just need to ask him a few questions.

You want to know why he killed himself, isn't that right? Everyone always wants to know.

Well, it's more than that! I need to talk to him. Put him on the phone!

No, I won't... Why haven't you been praying lately?

Why haven't you been doing more good things! Why haven't you helped me! Why did he choose
to use a shotgun?! Was he crazy? People say he had gone mad. Idon'tthinkhewascrazyIunderstand.

Alright, Diane. I wasn't going to tell you this, but... Ernie's not here.

Well then, where is he?

He's not HERE, Diane. He's probably with the rest of them. Somewhere now with Celine and Camus and Bukowski.

Who's with You?

Dickens. And Nora Roberts, C.S. Lewis and Tolstoy... Don't you want to talk to Tolstoy?


BIO:  Kyle Moreno is a surf journalist living in Los Angeles. His work has previously appeared in Pearl, The Chiron Review, Crab Creek Review, Verdad, and Water Magazine.