Author Archives: Greg Wright

Your commitment to Truth will not produce truth, which demands not resolve, but a ceded heart.

When a shepherd’s flock seeks another’s fold     and the pastor loudly brays about his followers being sheep—no, they are not     the ones who have lost the way.

The ponderosa stood proud and lissom, its bole aglow in the evening sun. Perhaps thirty years it strove blueward against drought and frost, and time—

“I like oranges,” she says, again, midnight hair thrown back, amber eyes flashing. I had heard her, the first time.

I search for left hands in a bin

I dreamed last that you came to visit, that you had something important to tell. I was busy stocking shelves at the store, and asked you to wait for a few minutes.

The doorway facing me allows a slivered fractional view of a streetside window. Through the left lower corner, a sign across the way warns, No Trespassing.

“It’s cold out there, Greg.” ~Iditarod Red Lantern Award Winner Bill Mackey The mercury read two below zero when I left Twisp.

Saltwater sloshes at my puttee-clad boots as I sway beside my brother, the lieutenant. His son, nearby, is propped on an elbow, smoking in a crowded bunk at the sally port.