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A Quarterly Journal
Jeffrey Woodward, Founder & General Editor
Volume 7, Number 4, December 2013


Adelaide B. Shaw
Millbrook, New York, USA


Dead, but not buried. It will come to life again, resurrected by some young techie who can perform miracles even with his eyes closed. In the meantime I am forced to use pen and paper, to scratch and scribble, to cross out and throw away. I am forced to concentrate. Concentrate on my thoughts, my vision. Feel the shape of the pen, how it glides across paper, feel the movement of my hand as words leave my mind and are written down. Think of Austin, Dickens, the Bronte sisters, Byron, Shelley . . . all of those who had only pen and paper and achieved greatness.

winter dawn
the pines whisper words
I cannot hear



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