welcome to the latest issue of hedgerow. thanks for being here! thrilled to announce that the ‘poetry / art book reviews’ feature of the journal will be launched this coming friday. if you have had work published in hedgerow & you have a book out to shout about, do get in touch. to celebrate i’ll be giving away a signed copy of my book ‘a hundred small poems…’ register your interest by sending a message to —
hedgerowsubmissions@gmail.com & i shall pick one winner at random. thanks everyone i think this will be fun.


with love & kindness,

Caroline Skanne







low tide
wandering away
from the world’s sharp edges

Joy Reed MacVane lives on the New Hampshire seacoast and during the summer hides out on an island off the Maine coast.






Chase Gagnon is a student from Detroit, who loves staying up all night drinking coffee and writing poetry. His poems have appeared in a number of journals and anthologies over the past two years.






the answer is thirty-two

where do geese go when they die
there is no way to translate that

what moves backwards in a swamp
how little flecks of gold glitter in the mines

when will this alliance be forged
with song and dance of tambourines

who are you dressed in red Thursdays
I have this desire to change the world

how many times will you ask me
why did you have to ask me that

and in distant darkness shone the city lights

Anna Cates resides in Wilmington, Ohio with her two cats, Freddie and Christine, writes, and teaches English online for several universities.





her smooth hands
collecting pine cones
in a bag


the wind
changes direction
my lonely heart

Jade Pisani, Australia, began to write haiku in 2010. She is a regular ginko participant.





daydream about the children I never had


walking into the morning fog to clear my head


my aging hands more beautiful right now


late afternoon curled into a nap beside you


Zee Zahava lives in Ithaca, New York (USA) and is the editor of the online haiku journal “brass bell.”





Making Waves

Each new page becomes a paddling pool
you hesitate to dip your toe into.
You stare into its glassed reflection,
shimmering world, fragile,
peaceful, unattainable.
You hesitate, the pen jitters;

the crippling fear of tiny ripples
turning somehow into rapids.
Still you long to close your eyes and jump;
letting go of everything; forgetting the page,
the pool; your head submerged
where every word and every splash becomes miracle.

Clifton Redmond is an Irish poet, a member of The Carlow Writers Co-Operative. He has had poems published in various Journals and Magazines.





evening light
the invisible lace
of swallows


a veil of light
over the stars

Simon Hanson lives in a small country town in South Australia where he spends quite a lot of time walking the back roads between paddocks. Some of the cows have become acquainted with his Blue Heeler dog who seems to forget on occasions that it is not her job to round them up no matter how much fun it might be.






I wake up shedding the skin
of a tender lover, pushing it
from behind my teeth, forcing
myself to chew, and swallow.
I let it all slide down my throat
with no regrets.

As I’m brushing my teeth
I’m mentally punching at
my brain letting it know
I will not regurgitate, will
not slip back into weakness.

Today I’m wearing amethyst
armor underneath my little
black dress and ignoring
all of your phone calls.

Raquel Reyes-Lopez lives in Montebello, California USA. She is a Gemini madly in love with life and a moon child. If you squint hard enough you can find her sleeping in the moon’s craters. Follow her at contactraquel.wordpress.com





a river of fire
swept along the street;
some time later,
drops of black rain fell …
I see the hell in his eyes


in Hiroshima
I wake up to the cry
of cicadas …
under the grass
what’s left of angered souls

Chen-ou Liu is currently the editor and translator of NeverEnding Story, http://neverendingstoryhaikutanka.blogspot.ca/, and the author of five books, including Following the Moon to the Maple Land (First Prize, 2011 Haiku Pix Chapbook Contest) and A Life in Transition and Translation (Honorable Mention, 2014 Turtle Light Press Biennial Haiku Chapbook Competition)





all our pictures
now I know
I’m made of water


summer sunset
still losing you
bit by bit


left on the trail
I must write
your death poem

Perry L. Powell lives in College Park, Georgia, USA. He works as a systems analyst and writes poetry out of love in the evening. His short poems have been published in Hedgerow,A Hundred Gourds, Frogpond, Modern Haiku, Presence, Prune Juice, Ribbons, small stones, and The Heron’s Nest.





overcast sky…
I look for shapes
in the river’s depths


with the squirrel’s leap the feel of new leaves

Thomas Powell is a potter who lives in County Down, Northern Ireland. Journals in which his haiku have appeared include A Hundred Gourds, Blithe Spirit, Chrysanthemum, Presence, Shamrock Haiku and The Heron’s Nest. He is a winner in The Snapshot Press eChapbook Awards and The Snapshot Press Book Awards. Thomas is also a contributor to A New Resonance 9, published by Red Moon Press.





when he stands up
to end the conversation
it pains me —
always the garden sparrow
wanting to chat till sundown

Anne Curran has been writing short verse forms for about
four years now. She lives in Hamilton New Zealand, a pretty
provincial town in the North Island. She reads and writes poetry as time and inspiration allows. She is inspired by people, memory, landscape, and language.





childhood room —
familiar tree shadows
on the wall


longest day
still green

Julie Warther (@JulieWarther) lives in Dover, Ohio and serves as Midwest Regional Coordinator for the Haiku Society of America. (www.hsa-haiku.org). Her haiku chapbook “What Was Here” is available through Folded Word Press. http://foldedword.bigcartel.com/product/what-was-here