Stories tagged prose-poem

History after Son House

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after morning comes and I get religion

Penny Candy

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Thank you for the flip book with the woman dancing, bird wing elbows, knees this way and that.

Flash Torn from a July Morning

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What if. But then. Why not.

Wood Turtle

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The picnic area sizzles. Barbecues gloat in tombstone fireplaces. Sweaty men and women gargle beer.

Godiva and the Vampire

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The haunted rooms of this castle listen as her nakedness absorbs me like ice absorbing a twig on the lip of a frozen pond.

The Wolf Who Cried Boy

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The story begins ... There were no pigs' huts of straw or stick or stone.

Don't Grieve for Fish

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Not when their captives wear saris the dusky shade of star anise—and think not of death but dinner. Silver scales wink at mirrors; one last dance of surrender and forgiveness.


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Frayed hem, losing stitches, dangling buttons, the red of the thread trembles...

Academic Story

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The bodies of the previous deans still dangle from the gallows.

Valley of Vermont

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Lying in a pasture in Vermont while the October wind opened our pores and looked inside, we stroked each other raw.

For Now

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If you had a dream, it was bartered long ago

Right Hand, Left Hand

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lines drawn in concrete


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I hear you calling me, as if through water spilled within a glass--

Why I don’t write poetry anymore:

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Why I don't write poetry anymore:

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