Fiction & Poetry
Shed for you

Shed for you

Poetry by Pris Campbell with paintings by Mary Hillier

Autumn light

There’s November in everything, cold air affixing to tough skin like curious fingers.



Snapshots: seasons frame life and emotions.

Leaves sway and shake on shivering trees, like drops of gold on frosted glass or strings of rubies and tinted brass.

I witnessed it but I did not sing at first

Beauty and ugliness, freedom and restraint, found concomitantly.

'Dance in the River of Dreams' and Other Poems

‘Dance in the River of Dreams’ and Other Poems

Best of In The Fray 2010. Time makes a short necktie. Don’t let it be a noose. Choose your partner carefully to dance the river heart away.

The Stream

The Stream

  Fujimore was an engineer at CHB Nagasaki for eight years before he wandered up to the banks of that stream. It had been redirected through a large tunnel under the highway. When he saw this, a hundred yards up, Fujimore thought, “I have finally reached the end of the line.” Because there was no bridge to cross, and the highway was treacherous.    His reflexes were no good after eight years of office work, so he didn’t trust himself to the shoulder of the busy road, in case he might need to jump sharply out of the way. Yet, because he hesitated a bit longer, wandering closer to the water, he saw that there was — almost — a path of rocks he could use, stepping one by one, to cross it. And, for an engineer, this problem of approximating the adequate surface areas and slickness coefficient of each rock was much like what might happen if an autistic child wandered past one of those jars full of gumballs, the kind where customers are encouraged to guess how many gumballs there are in the jar. After a taciturn series of calculations, Fujimore gambled that if he took his first step […]

'A threadbare foreword to the fleshy book of living and dying.'

‘A threadbare foreword to the fleshy book of living and dying.’

Prayer flags and dowdy dot coms.

March hare and Eire green

The poet wanders through Carrollian vistas of wonderland and the aching hills of Inis Fáil.

Pomegranates, singing telephones, and night’s cloak

Three poems that speak to love, loss, and recovery.

Alexis, stone walls, and butterflies

Three poems that begin with endings.

Circles of memory

The chorus of life’s song, echoed in three poems.

Hooks, knives, and slivers of smoke

Hooks, knives, and slivers of smoke

Verses reflecting defining moments and leaps in maturity.