EDWARD FERRI, JR. grew up on a "non profit" farm in the country on the dry side of the Santa Cruz mountains of California when bailing wire, gumption and spit were the "apps" of the day. He was first infected with the disease of motorcycling while in the 6th grade of a one room country school when he assumed possession of his big brother's derelict 1958 Sears Allstate Cushman motor scooter. An event that more than tripled his summer time fishing territory once he got it running. He is a strong believer in the spirit of Boo Radley and he still savors lessons learned during the "missing miles" lived on the roads of North America when motorcycles had carburetors, pushrods, points, spokes, drum brakes, kick starters and a tank slapping personality that could kill your sorry ass if you lost respect for the intrinsic risks of living life on a motorcycle. His long legged steed "Little Curry" once broke down in Binghamton, NY where it took a week for repairs but 2 years to leave. If you give a carburetor tickle hoot, he is a graduate of SJSU and one really cold snowy night at the Big 8 Motel in El Reno, Oklahoma. His poems, including many in Glassy Air, have been published in Lucidity Poetry Journal, Eskimo Pie, Muddy River Poetry Review, Still Crazy Literary Magazine, Agave, Hobo Camp Review, Haiku Universe, Shot Glass Journal, Main Street Rag and Constellations.