Prose Poetry

Diamond Sea

A Prose Poem by Jason M. Thornberry Upon the sand I stood and watched the water rushing past, scuffing itself over the rocks, racing toward a distant diamond sea. Then I kneeled and opened the box at my feet, removing relics I hadn’t seen in years. Dropping them, watching the current drag them away. A […]

A Night Out

A Prose Poem by Emily Wagner I wonder what my coffee mug saw. It was left outside overnight, sitting politely on the porch railing facing the road, waiting to be remembered. It had been used last evening as a comfortable distraction, during a visit with a friend I had not seen for months, and when […]

I Found a Carcass

A Prose Poem by Sabrina Bustamante I want to write about history. I want to stop fearing genre, and I want time to collapse so that I can write about the past while writing about myself. I want to be less narcissistic. I want to make sweeping statements about causation, and I want to be […]

Inside My Mind

A Prose Poem by Stephanie DeCicco The rain came down like shards of glass. It stung my face, my arms, my legs. I wandered on, heading nowhere with a mission. As the drops fell to the ground, they shattered into indefinite particles of nothing. The sky was black and full of gloom, a streak of […]

Gold to bare

A Prose Poem by Matthew Dettmer I’m visiting the suburbs it’s twenty-five minutes from my apartment to tom’s house along the lake the drive was stunning changing leaves the lake bright blue under the sky I drove slurping coffee from a mug balancing it against the turns on and off the highway now we’re outside in […]

l’homme sans odeur

A Prose Poem by d w Stojek We sat, my Grandmother, myself, with my Mother between, quietly in the waiting room of the doctor’s practice.  I cannot remember, despite my best attempts, as to which of us was the patient to be. I was four perhaps, five years of age and suffered frequent bouts of […]

Burroughs

A Prose Poem by Ace Boggess While I lay in bed, reading a novel by Hesse, I said to my then-wife, “I don’t think Burroughs is my favorite writer anymore.” The next morning, I read in the paper that he died. I know: coincidence, not serendipity, interconnectedness, butterflies flapping their wings in the Amazon. Reasoning couldn’t […]