Short Fiction and Poetry

DarkWinter Press is excited to announce our latest release, the ekphrastic poetry collection Hopper by Steve Denehan!

The road East today was empty. My blue Pontiac was the only car on the dark road. Winter fog hung in the air [...]

When I escape this Nightmare, I’ll be onto the next. Nothing ever changes, not for the better. I wonder why I hope.[...]

My bells sings from my gold   and black-washed neck, slinking   between the monuments, rolling on   stones that dance [...]

I saw a man tonight who obviously Did not belong; He walked amongst his children And they were all bathed In silver; [...]

We found a warning carved into a rock so my brothers rolled it into the culvert on the side of the road. [...]

The night sky is alive tonight with glittering Diamels and chittering super-strings of crickets, [...]

Send me astray where I can fling my heart away. I’ll meet you there atop the stairs far from here. [...]

The flowers warmed to the sound of her voice When she sang in lower case her alto matte finish voice  Delicate petals half fell [...]

Their families are pleased to announce the marriage of their children Miss Jo March and Master Bruce Wayne on June 1, 1867 [...]

A giant loom with ten thousand bobbins churns out blanket after blanket [...]

how quickly flames are smothered in shadows statuesque marble monuments glint in sunlight for a day [...]

my tongue encircles each stale donut hole in their carton like a thought experiment deep in the folds of memory [...]

Hadn’t been able to look in the mirror For the last couple years or so, Scared of exterior proof His interior was crumbling. [...]

the red cardinal in my apple blossom tree knows not of cardinal sins— it sings its proud songs vehemently [...]

Nina did something That she shouldn’t have done. Giddily, thoughtlessly, she looked for an all staff mailing list For help in her search for an apartment. [...]

I, the peregrine, soaring through azure skies on jet-fueled wings, in search of adventures to quench my wanderlust [...]

The little girl holding her mother’s hand in Times Square says, “I just want to touch one, mama.” [...]

I was gifted to the council in sweetgrass, my ribs displayed finely in the October sun. This child had been birthed from the corroded artery, [...]

Harsh, high-piercing cry of the Black Crow. Crow stares, eyes never blink. Peck…peck breaks apart weakened skin. Don’t wear that hat. [...]