Author Archives: Greg Wright

Red-dust road winds away from mailbox through perennial sorghum stubble toward a phalanx of stunted Texas trees of indeterminate and eternal species

                Halfway to somewhere on the Waterville plateau                a sprawling ranch house clings to the terrain;               a muddled mix of stunted cedar, fir, and pine              harbors and obscures the barn and grounds.

God did not smile upon the former president when he narrowly avoided a fragmented skull. God did not smile when a second errant shot instantly killed an onlooker in the stands.

Life is the longest sentence possible. We’ve not words enough to circumscribe all it aims to squelch—so harsh as to end meaningful existence.

When life gives you words           make word salad.                     ~W. John McGregor Croutons 1/2 French baguette          Other 1/2 any nationality. 3 Tbsp olive oil          Extra virgin (to assist). 1 tsp garlic          Minced, as with words. 2 Tbsp Parmesan          Capital. Just grate.

The letter S is not a fact. You sat in your car at the local park. You had parked there to get in some work, to bridge a gap between meetings. The computer gaped on your lap, blank.

A stone’s throw from Rendezvous Road a cabin crouches into itself, walls rolled in and ridgepole crushed. But dust beneath the roof is dry—