Poetry

"...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..."

"...Like a speaker it did not speak about the matter..."

"...i have shed my past like snakeskin..."

"...free yourself of the inner prison box..."

"...I started reading about dinosaurs becoming birds..."

"...we're faced with the chief ironies of our businesses..."

"...never tired of making the most of each moment..."

Shelly Norris ripened in the wild west on a farm in Wyoming. She hails from a long line of post- Civil War migrants, pioneers, scofflaws, and illegitimates; wherever there is a "bastard" break in the lineage, that?s her line of people.

"...run dry of space and tolerance..."

"...If the search is only for fault lines..."

"...That way she makes you fall in love..."

"...Here life stops a while for me, just to see you, dear..."

"She says she wants to know me..."

"...embark on my crazy chronicles..."

"...The stars disappear and the Universe gets enveloped in darkness..."