Some say the Internet shrank our attention spans. I say… What was I saying? Oh, sorry about that. I was putting the finishing touches on a very, very short piece of prose that I’m writing. It’s about two hundred words long. It’s so short that its language outshines its plot. That’s what makes very short prose similar to poetry. Similar, but not identical. Whatever you call them–flash fictions, sudden fictions, micro-stories, or prose poems–ultra short prose pieces are thrilling to read. It’s their ambition. They enfold the world with tiny hands.

I classify my own quickie thrill-rides as crosses between flash fiction and narrative poetry. I call them “flash” for short. To me, the term “fiction” doesn’t exactly fit and does more harm than good. It freights my little works with a cargo of expectations more appropriate to the short story. A layered stack of expectations, in fact, with…

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