Or, right-click here to download the audio file: “Still Mormon” and “Articles of New Faith” Still Mormon by Dayna Patterson 1. I’m Mormon the way stars—rubbed out at noon, robbed by sun—still burn 2. The way a geode empty of its quartz is still stone 3. The way a …
Tag: Dayna Patterson
Still Mormon
By Dayna Patterson Or right-click here to download the audio file: Still Mormon 1. I’m Mormon the way stars—rubbed out at noon, robbed by sun—still burn 2. The way a geode empty of its quartz is still stone 3. The way a whisper is still a breath carved by tongue …
Fledglings
by Dayna Patterson Dayna Patterson is the author of Titania in Yellow (Porkbelly Press, 2019) and If Mother Braids a Waterfall (Signature Books, 2020). She is the founding editor-in-chief of Psaltery & Lyre, a former managing editor of Bellingham Review, poetry editor for Exponent II, and a co-editor of Dove Song: Heavenly Mother in Mormon …
2018 Eugene England Personal Essay Contest Winners
Sunstone is pleased to announce the winners of the 2018 Eugene England Memorial Personal Essay Contest. The competition has been drawing together the best work from new and experienced writers for more than 15 years, revealing new experiences and creating new perspectives. Sunstone subscribers can look forward to reading these essays in future issues. 1st …
Former Mormons Catechize their Kids
By Dayna Patterson In the beginning was— Chaos. Cyclone. Sky. In the beginning was— Death. Hunger. The Void. A thought. A Word. Matter unorganized. A Big Bang. An expanding universe. Heavy elements formed in supernovan heat. A lotus on a lake of milk. A mass of water humming Nun. Fire of Muspell and ice …
Revising
By Dayna Patterson It’s at least 200 years overdue, what was needed in this place— a good earthquake. It slips from your mouth, hits, finally, in the clothing store, one seismic word— bisexual. We step outside. Mountains spin. The word, sin, chokes in my throat, acid bleak, I swallow back. …
Missionary Work in Kanata, Canada
By Dayna Patterson The porte-a-porte is not as cruel tonight. Snow falls soft on a row of pastel houses, where curves in the moulding, louvered shutters, and tidy lines of lights make them look like dollhouses. Bibles in bags slung over our shoulders, we follow the unshoveled path door to door to …
Poem: P-Day at the Sugar Shack
By Dayna Patterson This day brims with too much sweetness. The maple syrup, liquid gold we’ve poured into pea soup and red Kool-Aid, over beans, flapjacks, and sausage links. We are the only patrons in this cabáne a sucre made to hold a hundred. We crowd one table. Our hosts watch curiously. …