The Prose Poem:
An International Journal

     The winter her body no longer fit, walking felt like swimming in blue jeans and a flannel shirt. Everything stuck to her skin: gum wrappers, Band-Aids, leaves. How she envied the other girls, especially the kind who turned into birds. They were the ones boys hand-tamed, training them to eat crumbs from their palms or sing on cue.

        --Nin Andrews



Home

Web Issue 1

Web Issue 2

Web Issue 3

Editors' Note




Highlights from Volumes 6


Black Box
David Lazar


Tohu
Paol Keineg


Adolescence
Nin Andrews


The Prodigal Son: Amnesty
Dionisio D. Martinez


Last Gifts
Kim Addonizio


Narcissus
Robert Clinton


The Goldilocks Compulsion
Russell Edson


A Village
Michael Martone


The Body
Gabriela Mistral


Trivial Pursuit
Charles H. Webb


Bachelorhood
Robert Perchan


Against the Evidence
A Book Review


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Copyright 1996, The Prose Poem