He is a churchyard. In his grasses, crossesHave blossomed once again, like quartered rosesThat know the real crowns are made of thorns.Redolent cedar, these, both kings and thronesIn one, and no, they aren’t marking graves.Here is no fear and trembling. No one grieves.No sickness unto death, no . . . . Continue Reading »
Where I live drought desecrates,Heat scorches fields, crops wither,Wasted while elsewhere floodsDevour bridges to rip asunderFriend and family. Things fallApart. The parched earth cracks,The chasms widen to swallowWhole our fractured world. Here, before us, the abyss,Yet, if you can, imagine . . . . Continue Reading »
It’s Sarah’s old-bone incredulitywrecked by the coos of borne-out prophecy. It’s Jacob learning that his son’s not dead,the brothers scrubbed of blood they long thought shed. It’s Miriam’s, Deborah’s, Hannah’s canticles,delivered from the haughty’s manacles. It’s David writhing, . . . . Continue Reading »
Gregory Dowling provides a helpful travel guide for readers embarking on their own pilgrimage through Mason’s life and thought. Continue Reading »
. . . If I make my bed in hell, behold, You are there. —Psalm 139: 8 It takes a while for you to know what nought is.You answer Thou shalt not with your unless . . .You sell your birthright for a mess of pottage. You dream of mansions, settle for a cottage,but end up with the pigs a sloppy . . . . Continue Reading »
We become Shakespeare’s “live-long monument” as he continues to shape us, to craft not verse but our lives and souls. Continue Reading »
Andrew Pudewa joins the podcast to discuss his organization Institute for Excellence in Writing. Continue Reading »
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