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I had become my father. Another alcoholic destined down a dark road of desperation. Rife with self-loathing, destitution, and despondency. A dissolute barfly full of contradictory, yet melancholic thoughts. My everyday was my yesterday. Nothing ever changed. Maybe because I was not ready for it to change. So, once again,Continue 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, New York Quarterly, and the Vassar Review. He previously worked as a reference librarianContinue Reading

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I stare out the window, a wistful sigh dangling off my chapped lips. From forty-four floors above the ground, the tiny people look like little ants – ants scurrying about in their heels and skirts and suits, ants with their solid-colored briefcases and someplace important to be. Ants with longContinue Reading

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Part I: A severed head with its eyelids cut off.  The floating mass, rounded by gravity, orbiting a star, hosted billions of little organisms that named themselves human. They received our gift. Part II: Pandemic From onset to death, it requires one to five days. The average time is threeContinue Reading

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At Miss Hooker’s funeral I’ll fall inlove with her all over again, red hairand green eyes and freckles and her eyes closedlike they used to be when she recitedthe Lord’s Prayer at the end of SundaySchool class and I peeked to see how she looked with them closed, maybe asleepContinue Reading

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We endure. We get by.We wither and die. The ends draw us in.The river stays dry. The plains sing a songof bitter lament. The mountains think betterand will not repent. Seasons turn, climates change.We cry from the wheel, in vain, remain. We endure. We get by.We wither, and then, weContinue Reading

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It was summer and the heater was on. Bob couldn’t turn it off. The 1947 Pontiac he was driving chugged along on flat open road. The car had been restored from brown, back to its original colors, teal and seafoam. Before the restoration, we had known these colors were theContinue Reading

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A man is mowing his lawn at dawn with Airpods on in a yard five houses down. He is listening to a convicted felon describe fugue states and contemplating the utter silence of his street. It has been almost eight months since his wife left with Arwen, their Bichon Frise,Continue Reading