Lone Wolves, Black Sheep and Red-Headed Stepchildren

Reading Ryberg is like driving a pick-up truck across Kansas on shrooms. Jason Ryberg’s imagery, as fresh as a midnight S curve, takes the reader on a journey from the city to the wheat fields through a landscape bright with the
five-battery- ashlight of a moon. Forever the Salina cowboy at heart, Ryberg, like a calf roper, lassos the quicksilver halo of ghost fire , moments deep, spirit-filled with paradox. The poet carries his piggin’ string in his teeth, ready to half-hitch a pint bottle…to the grinning, /blue Buddha moon. He raises both arms into the air and stops the clock.

-Al Ortolani, co-author of Ghost Sign & Francis Shoots Pool at Chubb’s Bar