Burroway shows plenty of good examples on short stories. One of the first she describes is a short narrative about standing in a room. The paragraphs about standing in the room reflect the way the room feels, narrow, long, and with rows and rows of ham (or words, ya know, same thing), while still guiding the reader through all 5 senses. This finally lets all that stuff we learned in poetry click properly. Poetry makes no sense to me, but short stories are my proverbial language. Another thing Burroway brings up is how some opinions and prejudices won't make sense to the reader if they don't share the opinions, and worse, could even deter the reader from reading further if they don't agree with the opinion. In Everything That Rises Must Converge,O'Connor touches on the matter of opinions that don't match, and I could understand if someone put down this story if they were particularly sensitive.
I also loved the way a series of short stories was used to explain different parts of writing. One is called Polaroids, comparing writing first drafts to film developing. The next, Character, is a story about how to develop characters. Plot continues in theme and describes plots through story, explaining that plots grow out of characters, not viceversa. Dialogue shows, through story, how to set up decent conversations that seem real enough to the reader.  I found this set of stories not only interesting, but also a very helpful way of laying ground rules for story writing through example.
Goldberg focuses mainly on detail. Detail is what truly makes a story and sets it above other works of fiction. Use actual details from real life to help bring the story to life in the readers mind. Goldberg does a fine example of showing how important detail is when baking a cake. "you can't just mix ingredients in bowl" about sums up what she is trying to convey by using explicit details.

Word Play (3)

Sensation

That choking sensation, distilled from all others,

leaves the others to fade, while anxiety swells

Each moment fossilizes the fear,

trapping words in the lyrnx like a metal coffin.

Each word eroding me closer to martyrdom,

as if each word were a coursing river torrent.

My elegy, the clusters of imminent precipitation on my forehead.

As my powdered confidence flows away.

As my corpse intersticely flows away.

Through the murk, on to Saint Lazare.

Martydom

Martyrdom,
powdered, distilled, faded,

in the bright sun of St. Lazare,

where imminent murk fossilizes

on the bank of where the river courses.

Soaked, sedimented, swollen

like waterlogged, wet corpses.

As erosion batters the metal coffins,

clustered like bacteria,

elegy still unwritten,

Interstice precipitation.

Soaked

St. Lazare is a metal coffin,

the precipitation is imminent, often.

Interstice sediments leave you coughing,

distilled from fossils of powdered martyrdom

murk eroded from clustered corpses

elegies caught in swollen lyrnxes

faded, murky, coursing, corpses.

Soaked

Sonnets (2-3)

Grand Theft Auto
Some meth-heads go to fairs
some business men go skydiving.
But if a cop really cares,
He'll stop you while you're driving.
Customizing cars,

with pot-smokin' gangtas,
Drinking at strip Bars,

And beating senoritas.

Cue

When everything else fails

there's but one thing to do,

tip the weights and scales

so that they might favor you!

Just keep on going,

and do what you do,

just keep it all flowing...

Just keep waiting for your cue.

When you hear the call,

keep your mind focused

and don't drop the ball,

your mind is not a swarm of locust.
Really though just keep your cool,

THAT is the undeniable rule.

20 Instructions

20 Instructions for the Crazies

Silently spinning buzzing saws tell me what to do,

the Apple Jacks are screaming to me, how about you?

Can you hear the vibrancy?
Can you see the sour?
Can you taste the grit?

Can you feel the fragrance?
Can you smell the screams?

John Adams knows about carpentry,
John Adams knows the White House,

and that Apple Jacks are quiet,

yea.................they're quiet.

But the prisoners oh the prisoners!
Caught like water in a bong,

frequencies in a song,

held, for far too long.

Hey “dawg” the good queen of law,

your face is young and weary,

And I really must be crazy, Really.

Thats what they want me to think,

I just want to be free.

But the sluggish years won't change a thing,

Wait, seriously, am I sane?

Can't you gather from my mouth words?

Till I get an answer,

I bid you Aufeidersehn,

as does the Apple Jacks,

And so does Mr. Adams,

from his seat on the White House throne.