chris campanioni

South to Savannah by Chris Campanioni

The sun came through the dashboard and died under another overpass, air as thick as dreams, wanting as you might sometimes consider just about everything: a crimson sunset [...]

October 1, 2014

Duct-Taped Wedding Bells by Grace Montgomery

I haven’t told you I’ve been sleeping on the floor the past six nights in a row. It’s probably because three pages of [...]
Observer Effect by Jenya Doudareva

Sparrows flying close to the ground means that it will rain. Sparrows bathing in sand means that it will rain. Is that how [...]
A Thing From Spain by Ashlie Allen

They know I am not fluent in English, but still approach me. “Why are your eyes so black? Why do you look like you’ve [...]
Sharing Music by Emily Alexander

Dark morning reaches through windows until the sky is smudged silver like the teakettle on the back burner. Here is the slip [...]
Cardboard City by Paul Tristram

The Winter winds blow cold and hard under the desolate railway bridge but at least he won’t be waking up to a policeman [...]
POKÉMON MOON and other poems by Graham W. Henderson

POKÉMON MOON the defiant day moon overpowered by the sun who lights it anyway the deferent day moon tries to touch its host [...]
In Retrospect and other poems by Z.M.Wise

I should have looked both ways. I should have seen your forceful wishes to confuse me into mental paralysis. If I should [...]
New Place by Rebecca Guest

The promise of newly painted walls lining empty rooms, a kind of hubris that sings up your arms, popping goosepimples of [...]
Two Poems by Mark Jackley

IT SNOWS, THE DEAD RETURN In the chill blanketing the barn horses shiver like rubber- booted fathers at the door who softly [...]
Psalm by Mark Tretin

PSALM The stammer of the crow is me. The stilted stream is me. The stinkweed fouling the roots of the sycamore is me. So [...]
Versions of the Truth by Richard King Perkins II

For J.P. In gym class, I saw his legs five times a week for three years of middle school. Those tortured limbs never stopped [...]
The Unmaking of a Savior and other poems by Khaya Osborne

i am an unsovereign, yet abandoned nation. my capitols have all their own names but look the same: faceless, skin thin as [...]