Tagged prose poetry

HOWIE GOOD

Epitaph If you happen to think of me when I’m gone, think of me as a high-velocity bullet shattering three inches of leg bone, or as a mispronunciation of the word “salacious,” or as the cyanide tablet that an American spy caught crossing the border should have swallowed but didn’t, think of me as a…

DAVID ACKLEY

Ghosts …ghosts still resentful, ghosts far from home… After Hwang Sok-Yong, The Guest   Mine are more benevolent, so I like to think, though it may be Yankee reticence that shuns the autopsy’s gutting, an old eye impaling— uncomfortable, that—for milder terms.   If they resent, they keep it close. I tell Fred and Harry…