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Muscles churning, coiling, tightening, releasing,Bunched beneath the rawhide saddle, slick withFoam and sweat, a dirty brown lather frothingAt the shoulder, obscuring the flea-bitten grayCoat wrapped around the powerful creature,Whose magnificent galloping strides fly towardA starlit horizon, soaked in plum and magenta. Pounding hooves echo through the rain-washed canyonDripping in darknessContinue Reading

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Elephants and eyelash mites, streams of life, Of heritage both mighty and minute, Existence spies through milky eyes in strife, Cascades in raging sound—genetic root; The song, the strife, the milky streams all end And yet that end comes as a mystery —The wintry absence of breath— You are theContinue Reading

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“My little angel.” It was what my mama called me since before I could remember. She said that I was the most beautiful child to ever exist–her “gift from god.” According to her, when I was born the nurses couldn’t look away. They said that I was the most beautifulContinue Reading

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The bar attracts its failures, the strangest get in free,one man calls himself the infectious consonant,he cancels every engagement, blaming his grandmother’s face,and nothing sickens himexcept the nausea he gets when looking at thorns The black and white lips by the jukeboxspray out a bond of laughter,they belong to aContinue Reading

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We are parasites, bulbous bodies entangled,Swarming atop nests of rotten flesh, fightingAnd crowding on an already choked planet,A hive mind of greed and gluttony, evil oozingFrom our pores, sickly brown muck slickingOur palms as we tear through dying matter. Our bulging guts and sunken eyes scan forNourishment as we traverseContinue Reading

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if you ever leave me I’m coming with you pass me the fruit we can shed our old skin I won’t mind the bitter bite the second slice we wasted years not knowing but I’ve always been curved at your side you build the fire I’ll suck the marrow fromContinue Reading

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BB was a beekeeper. An advocate of the apiary arts. He wrote several tomes on the subject. It was not how he made a living, but how he loved living. Everyone called him “BB.” BB had six sons. Each of BB’s sons, known as GBs, had six sons, known asContinue Reading

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I have accepted that in this life I have a physical body and that I pushed it to extremes. I am a three-time Mr. Cascade and twice Eagle. I have dragged semi-trucks. And I have held airplanes back from flying. But there has always been something missing. When people tellContinue Reading

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Roger Camp is the author of three photography books including the award winning Butterflies in Flight, Thames & Hudson, 2002 and Heat, Charta, Milano, 2008. His work has appeared in numerous journals including The New England Review, Phoebe, Folio and the New York Quarterly. His work is represented by theContinue Reading

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The clock in the hall marks each drowsing hour, and the housecat keeps watch. Tucked under a warm blanket and pastel sheets, I sleep and dream. In the morning, there’s coffee and quiet conversation, here with my family that isn’t blood but family the same. We’ll sit on the porchContinue Reading