Jeffrey Schultz's poems have appeared in Boston Review, Indiana Review, Missouri Review, Poetry, and elsewhere, and have been featured on the PBS Newshour's Art Beat and Poetry Daily. He’s received the "Discovery"/Boston Review prize and a Ruth Lilly Fellowship from the Poetry Foundation. He lives in Los Angeles and teaches at Pepperdine University.
He'd been a tourist in churches, there for a look at the glass and a half-hearted pang of the sublime beneath vaulted ceilings, But there was always the fickering silhouette of some woman who prayed over a candle she'd lit; then the guilt Of the faithless would usher him out to afternoon's heat- dazzled streets. After the corner store's worn linoleum And six pack, he wondered if he could feel anything holy given years of the nightly news's nightly war, given His wife's retelling of her days working with abused and molested children. So when he came across these Beautiful, deadly coils risen up toward heaven and the power lines that converged in a perfect cage to hold it back, He couldn't explain the current that ran through him, except to say the hum of it, the substation's carcinogenic Psalm, seemed to cycle at the same rate as the soul, which stirred slightly from its hibernation In the unpainted apse at the back of its hermetic cell.