by Kirby Michael Wright
Few read anymore, so engraving my poem on a marker is a waste. Buying a plot's pricey too. Cremation? A bargain if I catch a deal making an advanced purchase. Feed my ashes to that giant Norfolk with the ocean view. Pray for my soul during feeding? Forget it. Instead, play "Surfin' Bird" by The Trashmen loud enough for the angels to hear. Don't forget to flap your wings when circling my tree.
Smell of a Dessicated Thing
by Federico Federici
Kirby Michael Wright received his MFA at San Francisco State University. He writes in fits and spurts.
Federico Federici, physicist and conceptual artist. His works in «3:AM Magazine», «Jahrbuch Der Lyrik», «Sand», «Poet Lore», «Diagram», «Art in America». Among his books: “Liner notes for a Pithecanthropus Erectus sketchbook”, “A private notebook of winds”, “Transcripts from demagnetized tapes”, “Biophysique Asémique”, “EIS”
Ignatian Literary Magazine 