Poetry

"...The morning casts a shadow familiar to the eyes..."

"...Her soft voice Is the cry of the single quail at dusk..."

"...In any obsession tortured doubt crawls past reason..."

"...Like a reporter in April mining the mind of a poet laureate..."

"...trying to conjure a lasting rainbow..."

"...Without a rap or reason allies jink to other journeys..."

"...how the sudden spark of your words could ignite..."

"...Branch by branch, bark and roots..."

"...we'll cleverly hide away in swamps..."

"...We look ahead At the emptiness..."

"...Devastatingly uprooted The trees of airy-fairy amour..."

"...crazy and dying and grasping at the shiny bits...."

"...Its laughter was sharp and loud...."

"... In the mind a painting appears, dark, mysterious..."

"...Wrath and mead Hammocked back against the grain summer..."

"...strangely, sometimes -- it takes root in hard soil..."

"...pieces of a time once spent..."

"...he jabbers at me in French..."

S.F. Wright lives and teaches in New Jersey. His work has appeared in Hobart, Linden Avenue Literary Journal, and Elm Leaves Journal, among other places.

"...The attendees were stunned..."

"...longing for the print edition of Los Angeles Times..."

"...Burning away everything that feels like a dream..."

"...to use them in the wrong way..."

"...after a brief morning thundershower..."

"...Resisting change is futile as the sheep slaughter themselves..."

"...The pyramids and the stones, they are both built of broken spines..."

"...I've been taking this kind of trash for too long..."

"...Star-struck I watched In awe..."

"...Descendent of Olympus on the peaks of Gotham..."

"...it blows away into the negation of wasteland blues..."