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 . . .

  • A church interior, image for The 45th President of the United States and I Went to Church by Grant Gerald Miller

    The 45th President of the United States and I Went to Church by Grant Gerald Miller

    The 45th President of the United States and I went to church. The sermon opened with the preacher asking us all to pray with him to God the Father. During the prayer, the 45th President of the United States nudged me. I opened my eyes and he had an open hymnal. On one of the […]

  • Beach under dark clouds, image for Part I by Josey Rose Duncan

    Part I. by Josey Rose Duncan

    You are here and I am home. Wait to let out light, to swallow. Iris as parted lips. Grab, wild, at shoulders. Trace the lengths of our soft edges to our elbows, to our knees, and back. You kiss my toes and it’s not a cliché. I spider my fingers over the top of your […]

  • A dog, image for On Pets and Sharp Objects by Thuy Dinh

    On Pets and Sharp Objects by Thuy Dinh

    Her mother’s hen was named Lucky. Lucky wasn’t lucky. Her grandmother killed Lucky on the eve of their evacuation from the country to the city. She urged, “We should eat Lucky. He was our friend. Now we need him for food.” On the eve of their evacuation from the country to the city, her mother, then […]

  • Vague figures at water's edge, image for Saltwater Tea by Thomas O’Connell

    Saltwater Tea by Thomas O’Connell

    For obvious reasons, the vampires prefer the beach in the off-season. The nights are longer and the crowds have dispersed. From the bus stop it is only a few blocks through the boarded beach houses, passing over dune grass and stray bottle rocket sticks to get to the low moonlit waves. The vampires crawl into […]

  • foggy landscape - image for Still by Paul Beckman

    Still by Paul Beckman

    The fog rolled in and settled a few feet off the ground rising up ten feet or more. The tree trunks were covered as were the cars left where they were because the governor forbade any driving. People walked in and out of the fog and they, like the buildings and trees, turned sepia colored from […]

  • Image for Will You Offer Me Your Hunger? By Louise Mangos

    Will You Offer Me Your Hunger? by Louise Mangos

    This is the fourth night, and I’m still waiting for you. You promised you would come. I think I hear the creak of your footfall on the porch, and my heart thumps with delicious anticipation. But it is only the wind. It has blown the clouds from the moon, diffusing a cold, ghostly light. I […]

  • twisted tree - image for The Demon Tree by Alisa Golden

    The Demon Tree by Alisa Golden

    The demon tree was swollen with bloom. We stepped lightly around it, not so much to prevent the demons from awakening, but because the demons had started ripening and falling, and we did not want to step in one. A boy approached, carrying a stick. Other boys approached, carrying bigger sticks. People pushing strollers hurried […]

  • Staircase in a rundown house, image for All Right, I’ll write it down... by Julie Oldham

    All Right, I’ll write it down… by Julie Oldham

    So, I’m on the stairs halfway down—or up—depending on how you see it. And I’ve just come out of the room at the top. The room is a bedroom. And I start to walk down—and I’m looking at my hands. And they’re shaking. And I see him. He’s half way up, or down, depending on […]

  • burning wood, image for After the Second Miscarriage by Marybeth Rua-Larsen

    After the Second Miscarriage by Marybeth Rua-Larsen

    Your embers, still with the blush of blue flame, are in no hurry to ash, and like Batman, who secretly hoped to learn the samba and kept waiting for his chance, you rehearse the mechanics of becoming. Nothing and no one wants to go back to tabula rasa or rhyme runes when they could keep […]

  • A cup of latte, image for Pumpkin Spice & Tumbleweed by Nicole G. Corrigan

    pumpkin spice & tumbleweed by Nicole G. Corrigan

    i’m a clerk. just a clerk. some might say i fancy myself a barista. that i fancy too much. that it’s too fancy. not real. a barista, that is. in italy, no one fancies themselves a barista. they are coffee makers. the people who serve you coffee. so i guess some would say i’m that. […]

  • A woman in a dark room, image for One More Bad Day by Tracy Mishkin

    One More Bad Day by Tracy Mishkin

    I burn words. Wrong and right fuse. I pick at my thoughts like sores, twist in hot wind. What’s the use? I smoke, throw stones at my own home. I slink off, come back the same, my head the butt of a charred torch. Damn the sun that blasts my cool dark room with light. […]

  • A vine growing on window, image for Hard Like That by Monica Flegg

    Hard Like That by Monica Flegg

    At first, we closed only the screen door which allowed air, breath and feelings to sift through. My heart was root bound. Shoots slid under the screen, across the mossy threshold—stretching back to you. The storm door needed to be closed. We shut it slowly like an ice cube watering an orchid. I turned the […]

  • Marshy area, image for Breath in the Marsh by Joseph Dante

    Breath in the Marsh by Joseph Dante

    The calamus rises as the sun dips below the marsh water. I look for trails of ripples, afraid of creatures that may bite, sting, or devour us. Born under grey, whistling skies, I’ve never been so hot. Our clothes cling to us. Your gloves touch my slick back, reach under the green murkiness. I agreed […]

  • rooftop taxi sign, image for Wrong Turns by Kyle Hemmings

    Wrong Turns by Kyle Hemmings

    I didn’t get a good look at the cab driver’s face at first. I gave him the address where my ex-girlfriend lives, the one I’ve been stalking for weeks after she dumped me like a bag of stale potato chips. I was planning for another confrontation and this time I wouldn’t be at a loss […]