Teresa Wright bastes full moons with turns of walking dogs, peeling olives, loving cats, feeding teenagers, mending holes, burying ink-less pens, and hammering keys. Little laundry baskets spill hand stitched poetry like salvaged clichés. Sometimes their touch makes life for this Toronto girl, awfully concrete.
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Hey~Oka (foolish wolves know secrets)
PoetryA first collection of versified vignettes, carvings and doodles, traced by a peculiar pilgrim. Each lettered abstraction flies in the face of human-ness, having haunted wooden seraphs and hobnobbed with spectral sprites. Here are words coming togeth...
