Prose Poetry

Kim Peter Kovac – Trinity

Trinity In the name of the former and of the latter and of their holocaust. Allmen. -James Joyce 1.  Los Alamos, New Mexico Theologians exploring crucibles and intersections of faith light upon the fact that Trinity, where the secret gang detonated the Gadget, was likely christened after a verse by John Donne: “batter my heart, […]

Mark Burgh – Dead Man

Dead Man St. Mark’s Place at dawn, trash blown, summer light’s perfect clarity so good for artists, wasted here. Lower Manhattan, brick walls remain, black-painted window sills. Somehow I thought the old world hanging on here had some right to peace, even if then or now, there was no peace. From Alphabet City I walk, […]

Mark Burgh – The Spies of Warsaw

The Spies of Warsaw Cold rain stammers on lines of street bricks, worn ideas in rows, stained with tar or blood; read them at your leisure, coffee smoldering in her cup, your sweater bunched at the elbows. Eye shadow left open on the sink. Of tears there is a novel, or dictionary of smudged intentions. […]

Al Maginnes – If There Is An Afterlife

If There Is An Afterlife For Walter Butts  The fathers are waiting with their cigarettes and big stomachs for us to arrive. The place where they live does not have time, only space, and they fill it with talks of shortstops and bars, drill sergeants, meals remembered from the days of appetite. Worn jokes about […]

Al Maginnes – This Turtle’s Heart

This Turtle’s Heart There are secrets to how things are made, and they hold the world together. Learning these is part of what keeps us alive. How to clothe yourself and fry an egg, how to wash your clothes and show up on time. I thought about this today while I hung a pair of […]

Al Maginnes – Where the Famous Dead Have Fallen

Where the Famous Dead Have Fallen In his wallet, Dixon kept his ticket to the concert Lynyrd Skynyrd was flying to when his plane crashed. When he was home from college he used to ride with his friends to the field where Rick Nelson’s plane crashed on the last night of 1985. They drank beer […]

Kate Healey – Gendered Death

Gendered Death There is a tremendous amount of ‘seeing -to’ that our male counterparts never experience. The terrifying and sacred moments of intimacy that daughters endure and subsequently cherish; the anointment into womanhood with the blood of our predecessors. My cousin, James, was steadfast and sensitive, concerned and sweet, always. “It is hard to see […]

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