Relationships of Static Confusion

Ghost Trails

He wanders cobblestone trails,
glances into alleys before passing,
certain the enemy still tracks him. 

It would have been easier had they killed me,
he told me, in a rare lucid moment.

I think back to eighteen,
his class ring slung 
round my neck, 
heart pumping.

Pris Campbell

Published In Blackmail Press,
Summer 2003

Artwork: Jeans poster from

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Over the edge and fed up,
I bludgeoned him with my boots--
the same ones that walked me
to Woodstock
then sat glass-encased
with the scent of weed and crushed daisies, his

screams now embedded 
with Hendrix howls
into my shrine.

Pris Campbell