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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, New York Quarterly, and the Vassar Review. He previously worked as a reference librarianContinue Reading

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In my father’s will, under SURVIVORSHIP, it reads, “any aforestated beneficiary of this will who dies within 30 days after my death shall be considered to have failed to survive me.” My god, I think. Maybe he had a sense of humor after all. For a jarring, fleeting second, IContinue Reading

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Each time I pass through the gate, I forget. I forget about the rusty nail, and it pricks my palm in the same spot, over and over: right hand, the bottom left mound of my palm, just above the wrist. The nail on the gate is rusted and twisted. ChangingContinue Reading

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There will never be enough time to catalogall of the dreams of the things in my yardin my house: the fat squirrels that roost in the trees outsidethe sparrows that peck at the dead insects in the air conditionerset in the windowthe mice that live behind my stove, the spiderContinue Reading

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On the mustering groundsof Argentoratum, where the Sermentsde Strasbourg found its accord,and hordes of hollow serfs wrought castle stone from tendervalley-grass,upon that memory of masters, men and order,the dance of St. Vitus came first uponthe lady Troffea and peeled openthe gatemouths of Hell. It appeared at first like a compulsoryContinue Reading

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There are two factories on separate hills.The hills enclose a little village.The people live in tall grass. They live in huts made of grass.Their children play in the grass.The grass waves and the factories watch it. Factory representatives drift through the grass—our product isvery good, very very good.Some children areContinue Reading

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what is the cost of a beating Heart? what numerical value to itcan we assign? and whose is itsto mine? to claimtakes but a Second a Lifetime’s sumto lose Sarah Wei is a poet and writer of children’s literature. When she is notmeditating on the Meaning of Life, you canContinue Reading

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The BridgeOld Soldier comes to the bridge. It is broken.Men pick up stones to fight.Old Soldier remakes the bridge, shouting at them.He throws stones into the water until the water is dammed andthey can cross to fight him.He shouts at them to kill him if they dare.He shouts at themContinue Reading

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There is a wall made of muscle.It is as if there were a shoulder pressing into a leg, wrappedunder a pair of arms, and a back bent in many segments. It istwenty feet tall.If one takes a flashlight under the crease of two long musclesnear the ground, one sees theContinue Reading

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As my mother is equally afraid of small spaces as she is of large spaces, I will build my mother a geodesic dome, its outer wall comprised of two walls, essentially a dome over a dome, three feet of space between the two domes. The dome is then a veryContinue Reading