Gosh what a couple of egg heads those Goths were / A real match forged in cartoonish annihilation / They were the talk of the neighborhood for the better part of the season & shook all the pine needles down to weave baskets for their Chinese-crested named Thing / ThenContinue Reading
He was gazing out at the river, with a“we work better together” tote bag next to him.The water isn’t safe to swim in – raw sewage and atomic waste made sure of that.But if I stood out on that rock and jumped off would it still cradle me?Even if IContinue Reading
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
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
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
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
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
For once, I’d like to knowjust what that woman didto be chased by fangs anddevils, skulls and whips andscorn. Sometimes there are men,sometimes knife-edged teeth andleers, sometimes claws and howlsthat thrust the skin of waiting breathaside. She is in snow. In flame. In frotheddemented seas. Backed into crags onmountainy landContinue Reading
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
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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