Tear Drops   I saw your tears Drop frozen on snow-painted ground by chilly winter winds to wait your heart’s delight. I hear my feet...

By Moshe Schaffzin The day in the life of a snail is best spent in a dark, shady corner. From your own gastropodal point of view, it is...

By Wendy K. Mages     I am standing on the pier, observing my colleagues as they mentor aspiring science teachers. The...

by Ken Been   The first thing he noticed was her hair. That was what shook Alan’s memory in the yellow lighting of the bus. It was...

River Man   My brother loved the river, He always watched the quick stream; As if it were his life passing by.   Love is not a floating...

A purple two shades lighter than expected deepens into an ocean shifting   with shadows and squiggles that glow yellow, floating above...

By Krista Ruffo   Wendell tells the interviewer at the South Florida Water Management District’s office that he knows snakes very well....

[KELP JOURNAL] Carmen these paintings are lovely. So bright and fun. You mentioned that they are a series that commemorates the...

By Rutger Middelburg   I have always liked the beach. When I was younger, I liked the parties we had there; where we would drink cheap...

I slap the water, hard, with Arms whirring like Bicycle pedals.   Once a second, as pedantic as A metronome, I tilt my Head and gasp...

The Thinning of a Moon Snail Shell   Dark tides, etched with pearl, whet the shoreline where   a frill like chanterelle rises beyond its...

By Evan Sharp   When I dried off my legs and got the courage to ask, the police officer said the boy was still alive. The kid had somehow...

[KELP JOURNAL]  Jill, you and I had a bit of a conversation about the theme of your photographs. Tell me why you choose to focus on...

Tiny spiny porcelain clenches, pinching             of salty epiphany, pen-point peepers- peering, peeking for predators while questing...

Poseidon coaxes us like stray cats, tossing sea glass like kibble. My oldest friend and I scour the Monterey shoreline. Sand mites nip...

Poet, aphorist or sometimes meanderist; Gerard Sarnat is widely published internationally in print and online. He has been nominated for...

The Moment When My Brain Realizes We Are Part of Something Bigger I bend to pick up half a translucent plastic milk bottle buried in the...

By Sarah Denison Each winter morning throughout my childhood began the same: I would sit at the kitchen table and gaze out of the window...

Midnight Surf Pantoum It is like you’ve died, my salty cherub, and I am left beheld by a gone pair of blue eyes. I’ll put on moaning,...

By Jack Durant   The roll and lapse of the surf echoed through the darkness. Beyond the lights, it was the only thing left of the beach...