Prose Poetry

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 […]

Julie Shavin – At Times Upon a Time

At Times Upon a Time I reply it was a storybook childhood no not as in Princess Bride just money enough for food piano lessons a dog new clothes a yearly vacation that kind of thing and naturally there were the few times in the middle of dinner my mother drew a knife from the […]

Holly Factorial – Broken.

Broken. Funny how vicious a cycle life is, isn’t it? It’s sadistic, almost. We spend most of it picking up broken glass, trying to make sense of a deadly jigsaw puzzle that only leaves you bleeding in the end. This is glass that, even when put back together, makes a window that’s impossible to see […]

Mary Stone Dockery – Three Poems

The Meaning of More We stack glass jars in the hallway, fill them with fireflies and nails. From the bed, we discover walls move like water. The blanket is a psychic’s tongue draped across our legs. What is more but what we can’t really touch, your body sliding down the shower wall, where you end […]

Gary Beck – Two Poems

Outer Borough In Brooklyn, when night begins to fall, a cemetery silence invades the residential areas, punctuated by occasional passing automobiles, or by straggling fragments of a grey mass, three million strong. The more venal and corrupt sections of the main avenues, where night life runs riot until midnight or one a.m., offer dull movies, […]

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 912 other followers