Pris Campbell
Daze
We tap dance down a Chicago Street. Who cares if people stare? No sugar plums in his head or white rabbits to chase us. He sieves his dreams through the enlarger in these pre photoshop days. Floating trees. Woods where he found himself. Home is a memory. Hands hold up the sea. He calls me his angel, sends angels on cards when we’re not on one of these almost the same time next year visits, but he’s gone to join the stars now. If I see a buddha holding the moon I’ll know he still watches.
boxing up. . . creases cover the old valentine
Note: RIP Jerry Uelsmann, montage artist and friend, with an image-filled obit in the New York Times. The images above refer to some of his many well-known works.
About the Author
Pris Campbell’s work has appeared in numerous print and online journals. She has also placed or had honorable mention in several competitions, including first place in the Marlene Mountain and the Sanford Goldstein 2021 contests, and has published nine books/chapbooks. A former clinical psychologist until sidelined by ME/CFS in 1990, she makes her home with her husband in Southeast Florida.