Posted by It is a true honor to be featured on the Joy of It blog. Read on for an excerpt of the latest post. A scene of tension is set.* A woman is publicly exposed. An aggressive mob gathers, challenge in their narrowed eyes and tensed shoulders. They approach the influential leader, the winner of many…Read more »
Posted by I am honored to participate in the Joy of It blog with my entry, The Window Seat, February 12, 2018. Smiling and giggling, the boy thrashes out of my hug like a lake trout; heedlessly springing over the circle of my arms like a robust gazelle calf to escape. It is a game, but truly he…Read more »
Posted by Prayer, a fatigued word. Draped with those wet blankets of ideas like feebleness, inaction and apathy. Prayer in 2017 brought a particularly tiresome reputation. Tragedy after tragedy, our overwhelming feeling of powerlessness rising, faithful and faithless alike knowing not where to turn but prayer alone. In response to the charge, I reflect that I’d pray…Read more »
Posted by Flip backward the calendars and replay the static-ey memories from sometime in the 80’s and 90’s. A collection of pictures, as in the kind we used to stack once developed from the entire roll of film; posed family portraits mixed among the random and mostly terrible action shots. The dated furniture and décor, strings of…Read more »
Posted by I claim the happy fortune of having spotted our townie hotdog hearse on two occasions. Someone has bolted a mastiff-sized fiberglass hotdog to the top of a hearse. The fiberglass hotdog is of quality construction. I’m convinced it is not simply an object procured by chance from some second-hand warehouse. It is shiny and new…Read more »
Posted by Something is strange about the way hurts in life corrupt me inside, later to unfurl in confusing and unexpected directions. My feelings wrap and jumble like poorly tended rope; a mess of buried ends and loops lacking purpose and order. A thread of bitterness with no discernible track or pattern to the casual glance. Picture…Read more »
Posted by Desert tender, you and I dwell in that parched scrubland of unspoken things, yielding broken things. Arid earth rends the clay into abrupt dry islands, irregular curved pucks of crumbling terra cotta, crags widening. There we dwell separate alongside the deep chasm. We are in a desolate spiritual place, a void of growth, movement, words.…Read more »
