HOOT Online, Issue 37, Mini Poems and Micro Fiction




by Sarah Kai Neal


The hummingbird purrs concurrently, flies
to my eye-level and stares. 5-6 seconds. Pleased to make
your acquaintance, Ms. Hummingpsychic.

Last night I dreamt my lover’s reason-to-stay-awake memory. It somehow soaked
through like blood : the fear-humidity in which it is difficult to breathe.

I once knew how to say hello to a stranger in a language I’d never heard.
I didnt know the stranger spoke this language.

As a child I held an egg and asked is it possible
to have 2 yolks inside?
I cracked the egg
and saw








by Taylor Sacco
Artwork by Jane-Rebecca Cannarella


photowith the rain hitting the roof like this
it’s impossible to ignore.

it’s like someone dropping millions of quarters
that bounce a little
before rolling under thousands of washing machines.














by Taylor Sacco

late december snowflakes melted on my whiskey breath.
that man
standing at the bar
wore a bow tie
and had a girlfriend dressed like a flapper girl.
it was very important that they be seen
as they issued their careless goodbyes
to 2009.







Sarah Kai Neal lives in The Nashville area with her four dogs and two cats. She received her MFA from Sarah Lawrence College and facilitates writing workshops for mental health consumers.

Taylor Sacco lives on a farm in Vermont with his wife and their dog Moose. He works in a high school as a Transition Coordinator and likes looking at (and then writing about) beautiful things.






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