Unbroken Journal pattern

Unbroken is a quarterly online journal that seeks to showcase prose poems, poetic prose and haibun, both from established and emerging voices. We desire to give the block, the paragraph, the unlineated prose, a new place to play.

The paragraph is an extremely difficult form. Just as the wind brushes the underbelly of the idea, a new indent appears. All this hubbub about access and the idea, the idea and cohesion, the idea and liquid space. Polymorphs, snowglobes, a barrage of supporting examples, whirligigs that flutter about before falling into the netting of the idea. Seven ideas total, or one? Suddenly before a recheck for sentence completion it’s rounding up, prosaic summations, concluding with modular force. Sonnet-shaped yet unmusical, the paragraph is fast enough.”

~ Tom Snarsky, Unbroken Contributor

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From our current issue . . .

  • an image for He Has Not Been Right in the Head Since by Grant Guy

    He Has Not Been Right In the Head Since by Grant Guy

    His name was Arthur. He was born from woman. Seeded by man. He has not been right in the head since. He was introduced to an alien God. His mother forced him to kiss the God’s hem. He has not been right in the head since. Some day last year (he does not remember when […]

  • holding a cup of tea - image for The Honourable, Miss Phryne Fisher: Lady Detective by Anne M Carson

    (20) The Honourable, Miss Phryne Fisher: Lady Detective by Anne M Carson

    The Hotel Windsor, Melbourne Australia When Phyrne farewells thrift, she welcomes haute-couture—a whole suite at the Windsor to house her capacious wardrobe and a ladies’ maid (Dot, rescued from the street) to tend it. Only her first day in Melbourne and already she’s bought a flamboyant satin and fur ensemble from a city courturière. She’s […]

  • bicycle in the woods - image for Depending on the Horizon by Cate McGowan

    Depending on the Horizon by Cate McGowan

    Yes, the boys and I fashioned retrofitted, hand-me-down bikes—spray painted speed machines tooled in overgrown backyards and empty garages, made tough like each of us to withstand Georgia red clay, easement trails, steep hills, kid-built ramps. After-school afternoons, we’d pedal muddy paths as if the real Devil chased us, scooting down creek bank inclines, picking […]

  • airplane interior - image for The Secret by Sandra Anfang

    The Secret by Sandra Anfang

    She cornered me on a flight to Fort Lauderdale. The beautiful aerialist had language on her side. I heard the impossible tale of her lover, the firefighter, how he survived the explosion. How The Secret brought it all to pass. I try for listening, neutrality, force my mind wide like a stubborn green coconut. I struggle to […]

  • a green yard - image for The Place That One Becomes by Lee Kaloidis

    The place that one becomes by Lee Kaloidis

    from where i sit gratefully out back in the chair beneath the tree by the bird bath on a green lawn sprawling with sunlight, a stage for squirrels that fidget in circles and for birds that come and go to the feeder or peck the ground for the seed beneath it, rake and shovel leaning […]

  • attic floor - image for Bullet Goose by Erik Fuhrer

    Bullet Goose by Erik Fuhrer

    There was a goose who lived in my grandmother’s attic. It had lived there since the first world war and had bullets in its flesh where feathers once grew. Its daily clickaclink rang in our ears each morning as it dragged its cyborg body across the unfinished floor. Every now and then it would bury […]

  • armchair - image for Imagine the Chair by Kit Kennedy

    Imagine the Chair by Kit Kennedy

    Go to the border of what you remember. Trace your fingers along the small arc of shadow where dark cranberry curves on the seat of imaginary green. Remember if you negate the chair, you wipe away the person sitting there. Kit Kennedy serves as poet-in residence of San Francisco Bay Times. She has published 5 […]

  • old b&w image for The light/ Air by C.C. Russell

    The light/ Air by C.C. Russell

    Arid end. The skies are what the ground wants to be. I remembered rain, your hair in that deluge. A cattle guard at the end of a dirt road. The clear air that we waited for. Hard ground and this place. Wyoming sky, a dust devil grows in the sunlight and spins itself out. This […]

  • image for Word of Moth by Marion Michell

    Word of Moth by Marion Michell

    Worst days pain ricochets like shooting stars with pinball crushes. Oh the love! Coins, slot, more? Even your voice becomes unhinged, that last door. Words duck and dive, hide behind femur, kidney, clavicle. Tongue cannot reach. The keyboard hisses. Coffee cools in favourite cup. Bottoms up! You’re braced to write, comb the lamellae of cognition […]

  • a woman's shadow, image for Division by Mark Renney

    Division by Mark Renney

    It smells in the lobby. I grimace and step from the main entrance and out, onto the scuffed tarmac. I gaze across at the tower block opposite. ‘Jordan, get back here NOW,’ a woman’s voice. I hear but can’t find her, but I spot Jordan striding swiftly and full of purpose. She keeps close to the […]

  • image for Miss Cora by Ferdinand Hunter

    Miss Cora by Ferdinand Hunter

    Miss Cora Lee Walker is a good Christian woman. She sells beer and liquor in the long and wide basement of her house on Putnam Street. She keeps a large oak bar, a jukebox, and three pool tables down there. And every night except Sunday night young black men and a few black women meet […]

  • A woman lying face down, image for Her Skin by Lucy Palmer

    Her Skin by Lucy Palmer

    She sleeps the sleep of the drugged, body furled in a comma, breath steady: in, out, in, out, my own personal metronome. The scar snakes silver on her arm, a beacon in creeping moonlight. I trace it with my finger like a surgeon with a knife. She doesn’t stir. When it happened, it was ugly; […]

  • woman beside a bed - image for Spring Dream #1 by Beckie Stewart

    Spring Dream #1 by Beckie Stewart

    When you read everything I had to say but had not yet said aloud, I learned the lesson of not naming my word documents after you. When I crawled into your bed and lay still and held my breath I was not trying to die I just wanted to have your attention. But when I […]

  • Canoeing - image for Hidden Valley by Ricky Garni

    Hidden Valley by Ricky Garni 

    I mumbled. Then she mumbled. Out in the street, they mumbled. In the streetcar, the driver, well, he mumbled. The car horns mumbled. The cat darted out of the way of the pick up truck, mumbling. There was an explosion. It mumbled. Who can explain all this? It’s this way: the city is underwater. Has been for […]

  • a dozen eggs in a carton - image for Aversion by Sheldon Lee Compton

    Aversion by Sheldon Lee Compton

    Eggs. Egg. Anything white. Anything oval. Come to think of it, anything yellow or white and oval. Or scrambled all over, you know, sort of thrown around and fluffy? And yellow and white, the two of them together. With white specks all through the yellow, smelling of butter. In fact, butter itself. Because butter can […]

  • fishing pole - an image for Chests Pounding, Lungs Rasping by Christopher Baumer

    Chests Pounding, Lungs Rasping by Christopher Baumer

    Brother, meet me at the river. Wear those bib waders that belonged to your grandfather; the ones that were too large for your skinny build but kept the water from your legs all the same. Bring a plastic box filled with lead weights and treble hooks, bits of yarn and cork balls colored in neon […]

  • image for Seeing My Mother by Barbara Brooks

    Seeing My Mother by Barbara Brooks

    I avoid looking at myself in photos and mirrors. As I grew up, the mirror on top of the dresser greeted me every morning. In an early photo, I have a gap-toothed grin, my left ear sticks out from under my riding helmet. I hold the trophy out in front of me. In high school, […]

  • one way signs - image for Location by Iris N. Schwartz

    Location by Iris N. Schwartz

    Late autumn: I’m cold, wind-strewn, jacket-less, alone. Somewhere in New York State. (I study license plates.) Two fives in my jeans pocket. How did I get here? Where’s here? I say to myself, “Gina, Michelle, Dorothy…don’t panic.” How can I not be disturbed when I don’t know my name? When, now, I’m here, but, ten […]

  • image for [the flight is the show] by Darren C. Demaree

    [the flight is the show] by Darren C. Demaree

    for Anna Geiger i told my children the flight is the show to take off is to land the magic is how little the bird’s wings move while they defy gravity while they accept the tepid wind the gale force the spittle of the old gods not once do they question the advocacy of the […]

  • A caravan of camels on the horizon - image for Bedouin by Sneha Subramanian

    Bedouin by Sneha Subramanian

    n. Bedouin – colloquial for desert surpluses as human. Dwelling is a mist-colored cavern full of discarded newspapers lined at night with desert storm remnants as the face of morning. An entity who has dissolved home and stored a concrete house within beige sand granules, gifted with an oasis on occasion by the desert. n. […]