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 …
Tag: poetry
Not as the World Giveth: Poetry
By Javen Tanner 1. Consumed by silence, in a clean house, myself as a child notices he is alive, notices his own breath in everything he touches. He experiences the present as a memory, each object as a photograph: he sees his father’s clenched jaw in the corner of the hearth, his mother’s …
To Tom, the Ox: Poetry
By Glen Lassen The large white ox did everything of any note, As forward bound and upward bound he went Over the top of Wyoming. He bore, somewhere beneath his hardened hide, The crucible burn, the Carthage cauldron mark Of those who’d seen the place where Joseph died. Now, he pulled with neck and bone …
Elm Trees: Poetry
By Lorraine Jeffery Sand blasted alkali survivors, hardy pioneers of brick-hard soil. Twisted roots seeking hope in rock cracks. Now Trash trees, despised casualties of ease and water.
Purple: Review
Reviewed by Stephen Carter Purple Mary Lythgoe Bradford Dialogue Foundation, 2009 72 pages WE SEEM TO be magnets for beauty. Our childhoods are “cherry tree worlds” haunted by “twanging harpies,” and nourished by “string bean summers.” As we grow, “deep library treasures” take seed in our souls and whisper to us until we start …
We Were All Volunteers
By Dennis Clark I don’t know what Peggy Fletcher (Stack) paid herself as the editor of SunStone,1 but it wasn’t enough. That Peggy was single no doubt helped her be more involved in the magazine than I ever was. I wanted to be more involved, but I was married, with five kids, and had left …
A Hungry Kitten, Stray: Poetry
By M. Shayne Bell A hungry kitten, stray, two weeks before Christmas: the inn has room.
On My Return to Utah: Poetry
By Lorraine Jeffery The women, a small band of three, welcome me. Talk of children and responsibilities. “Is there anything we can do to help?” I shake my head and see relief. “Are you staying?” Eyes speak approval of the stable husband, who is coming still. The weathered corral gate swings open. “Are …
Seven Short Stories About Drones: Poetry
By Teju Cole 1. Mrs Dalloway said she would buy the flowers herself. Pity. A signature strike leveled the florist’s. 2. Call me Ishmael. I was a young man of military age. I was immolated at my wedding. My parents are inconsolable. 3. Stately, plump Buck Mulligan came from the stairhead, bearing a bowl …
Tuesdays: Poetry
By Gaylord Brewer The weekend’s degradations have receded almost sufficiently to look forward to again. Monday’s starry-eyed resolve? That’s happy history, too. What were you thinking? Time to slow it down, lower expectations, pace yourself. You’re not even half through the week’s race you pretend. Eat a grapefruit, maybe, weed a …