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Roger Camp is the author of three photography books including the award winning Butterflies in Flight, Thames & Hudson, 2002. His documentary photography has been awarded the prestigious Leica Medal of Excellence. His work has appeared in numerous journals including The New England Review, North American Review and the NewContinue Reading

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The chunk of flesh lies there.It’s pink and still,No longer throbbing or feeling.The thigh that birthed it is oozing,Pumping, still alive. The man sets the knife downAnd prepares the pan and herbs.Taken away from its origins,The meat is no more than a blob,A collection of cells,13,355 calories, more or less.Continue Reading

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Alexis Blaire Zielke paints, writes and does 1:1 sessions with people, listening and talking about non-duality. She published her first book, The Nothing, on Halloween of 2024. The book is inspired by the antagonist of the Film, The NeverEnding Story, and is illustrated with drawings of endangered animals. The bookContinue Reading

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Shove over, Dinah, and get your whiskersout of my tea. There’s not enough creamat this picnic for the two of us and I have dibs on the scones. Or maybe the scones are etherealand multiply, loaf-and-fish-like, and will serveme, you, and visions, too, if that rabbit flickers by, fob a-glinting.Continue Reading

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Dandies moved into Peacock Lane & put a sexy leg lamp in their postage stamp bay window / The HOA was pissed but could hardly do a thing to stop gentlethems from erecting sexuality like a lacy middle finger / The chairwoman of the decoration subcommittee made salted pistachio brittleContinue Reading

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Pried by persuasive light, flickering sun-dried eyelids, catch the flame of morning.Wake-up dust wells-up, in tear ducts of cognizance,spinning without moving. Digital clicks, after musical ticks, and red lights on a small black screen.Hangovers of comprehension, still trickling in,only conscious by concession. Grinding through gears, with growls of rust, andContinue Reading

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I. Forest Blues The grab of trees is nothing.I’m hip to their enchantments,their impenetrable leavings; they oughtto be less obvious when calling the windsfor a ride. Their branches out them every time.There is always one struggling to smother a laugh,always a pair curving like arms, always a skeletalbeckoning, a threatContinue Reading

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It never rainsin the Gingerbread Forestbecause that would be catastrophic—houses turned to mush,the occupants smotheredbeneath a slurry of crumbled walls,delicious but deadly. You’d thinkthat endless sunshinewould be a lovely thing,but it’s not.Even filteredthrough leaves and branches,the light is too constant,too bright,too much. As for those trees,deprived of rainthey are forcedtoContinue Reading

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PADUA, ITALY 1844 Curious young scholar from NaplesWandered into a fertile private gardenHe first saw through his guest bedroom window.By an unusual purple shrub with botanical gems, an exquisite bloom stood Slender, alluring, barely comingInto womanhood. Her scent,Cloying like lavender. Her touch,Lethal like aconite. The maiden Her famous scientist fatherCalledContinue Reading