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 […]

  • 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 […]

  • 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 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 […]

  • 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 […]

  • 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 […]

  • 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 […]

  • Figure in dark woods, image for Some Dissembling Required, I Admit by Richard Weaver

    Some dissembling required, I admit by Richard Weaver

    the world is not my oyster, not my cray-craw-or-crabfish, mudbug, yabby or crustacean of choice. I don’t crack bivalves to harvest who or what I am. I eat them with sauce, spicy, spicy sauce, fresh made with real horseradish and enjoy the slithering as they make their way down. But philosophy, ontology, whatever osophy or […]

  • 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 […]

  • 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 […]

  • 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 […]

  • 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 […]

  • 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 […]

  • A woman standing in a field, dressed in black - image for Black Dress by Kenneth Pobo

    Black Dress by Kenneth Pobo

    My Aunt Maggie, whom we called Aunt Saggy, because she sagged and we were mouthy kids, came to birthday parties, Christmas, and Thanksgiving, saying almost nothing, keeping her beige purse close to her legs. Mom only invited her out of pity. “She’s got no one. And a police record. When she worked for that rich […]