Author Archives: Greg Wright

Two eyes, one mouth Two ears, one mouth Two feet, one mouth Two hands, one mouth

Do not deadhead evil flowers     nor pinch their potent buds for wrong is ne’er so strong they say     as when new growth is stressed.

I sit by a gentle smoldering fire in the glow of morning Methow sun which has finally scaled the crest of Silver Star’s hunched shoulder—

Only two types of people exist:

that literary construct designed to clarify otherwise shoddy prose by sandwiching morphemes between em-dashes, commas, or pairs of actual eponymous parentheses

I. Leaving my air- conditioned digs I drove half an hour hiked a quarter mile

They of course caught Bulova red-handed. He had more hands than one, naturally, but it was the bloody one that mattered— the third hand, the one entitled second,

Joan Wicleff it was from whom I learnt: art is a verb.

Once upon a time in Memphis, I consumed 300 films a year; what would I ever have done in a ghosted town like yours,