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But what’s a pastor to do when [she’s] got no people to pastor?* I slipped an extra eggunder the broody henand marked the eggsalready gathered therewith a permanent marker’sred x. The hen settled down,welcoming new eggs and old.She puffed wide, her...
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It is only in framed space that beauty blooms. – Anne Lindbergh The haiku settles for doing, as I read it anyway, one very simple but crucial thing – it tries to put a frame around the moment. It simply frames a moment. Of course, as soon as you put a frame...
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Anger isthe bastard child,black sheep,danger to the flock. This I know,for I’ve been told. But, by night,when the world is still,I slip out the back doorto find anger huddledin darknessat the yard’s edge. “What do you want?” I...
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Some days, I would sell my own soul for thirty pieces of silver, just to hear the coins, solid and real, clinking in my pocket. Some days, I too would sell my birthright for a steaming bowl of stew, because hunger is here and now. I would throw myself from the...
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She stands, arms outstretched, under fluorescent lights. She holds up empty shorts, t-shirts, and tanks. Her mother-eyes focus on what is not there, gauging the cloth’s ability to hold, to hug, the ones she loves. Her gaze is fixed just...
