Contributors

Gregory Norman Bossert

Contributor History

Left Hand Jane, Conjunctions:69 (215–224)
The Empyrean Light, Conjunctions:71
The Empyrean Light — A Selected Text from Conjunctions:71, A Cabinet of Curiosity, Online 11-22-2018

Biography

Gregory Norman Bossert’s short fiction sprawls across genre boundaries; recent works appear everywhere from Best Science Fiction of the Year: Volume Two, edited by Neil Clarke, and Best Horror of the Year: Volume Nine, edited by Ellen Datlow (both Night Shade Books) to the Saturday Evening Post to Conjunctions:69, Being Bodies. His story “The Telling” won the 2013 World Fantasy Award. He lives across the Golden Gate Bridge from San Francisco, where he works for Lucasfilm.

Connect

In Print

Conjunctions:75

Dispatches from Solitude

Fall 2020
Edited by Bradford Morrow

Online

All Cities Burn

by Katharine Coldiron

November 25, 2020

The smell was profound, suffocating, singular. My skin and clothes stank until I washed them; I had to stop at a gas station and wet my shoes under a faucet and scrub them with disintegrating Kleenex because the smell hung so potently in my car. It was dead fish and bird droppings and the bottom edge of a body of water, brought to the light and baked too hot. I once visited a blooming corpse flower at the Huntington and it smelled alive, at least. This was death of a hundred kinds braided together.

Three Poems

by Elizabeth Robinson

November 18, 2020

Where there is no fact, there can be no consolation.

We chose to be plural in the presumed grace of what

is presumed to be moving in the dark.

Nuntle Shtuli

by C. P. Boyko

November 11, 2020

You, Shtuli, went to a school and sang a few songs.
            The children, with skybright eyes, listened rapt, their mouths hanging moistly open.

Strumming my balalaika, I, Shtuli, sang.

Shtuli, you asked Asfalyi, your child, to come to a noisejazz concert with you.
            “I’d rather stay home and read my grimoire tonight, to be honest, Boombi,” Asfalyi said.
            “That’s all right,” you gloomily said. “I’ll go by myself.”