Garden by Stephen Hastings-King

Above the arrangements of leather belts cast iron wheels and saw blades hovers the rotting hull of a boat manned by ghosts in flannel who endlessly repeat the same slice of a long-ago winter voyage; in every photograph groups of them gather to peer at the strange electrical flash originating beneath the surface of the water between them and a section of Labrador beach littered with heaps of ice like walruses sleeping.


Return to This Week’s Flash


Filed under Stephen Hastings-King

8 responses to “Garden by Stephen Hastings-King

  1. The frigid other-worldliness of this prose poem is intriguing!

  2. So much to love with this… This is why I spend so many hours working on my submissions. A wonderful variety of all forms of prose and poetry. Thanks for sharing this gem.

  3. Truly wonderful imagery here, Stephen.

  4. Masterfully wrought, I admire how your mind works.

  5. stephen

    thanks very much for the reads and comments. the setting for this is the shipbuilding museum in essex. the aerial hull is the evelyn goulart. i was doing a project with a dancer a couple summers ago (yikes) and we were taking photographs for publicity. because of the nature of the piece, we were shooting at night. we took a series of photos near the aerial hull and in each of them you can see these peculiar body shapes on the boat. that set up the piece which is about multiple blind spots converging (or not as the case may be) in “the same” space…glad you like.

  6. len kuntz

    a nice little slice of imagery. would have worked as poetry, too.

  7. Pingback: Week # 47 – Blind Spot | 52|250 A Year of Flash

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s