Storm

Art installation by Angela Glajcar

I black out in Laos w/ the Canadians and awake the next day in some tall grass next to the river w/ Amaya beside me. I can tell she’s upset and my state of mind is so twisted from the night before that I am emotionally numb. She goes right into it and tells me that she was going to leave me in the middle of the night, just get up and walk away and keep going, but Christ told her to stay and she obeyed. At this point in my life I am struggling so much w/ faith and it almost seems to my demented alcohol-soaked brain that she is using Christ to torment me, Read More

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Beloved


I’m a ragdoll, carried by my God.

I hear Jesus speak in a language I do not know.

He takes my limp hand in his, looks at my thumbnail and addresses the atoms by name.

I understand.

They are neither male nor female,

Like God or colors, Read More

Integral

Art by Paolo Ceric

All were in their proper place–
The hedonists on the slippery slope
The proud upon hearths of their own function
The saints in the silent center of the sequence–
When the world ended, its perfect pied way Read More

One Year

Painting by Julia Watkins

Here we go ‘round the prickly pear, full circle needing prayer

Ashes to molasses, dust to suckling star dust

Sing your celebration, don’t compensate for your salvation

Only to look upon Creation and see what you must: Read More

Love Thy Neighbor

grassy-knoll2
Form.  I can now respect it because I am at the point at which the slope of craft unfolds in a rolling wave – a lush Brisanchu knoll of light and deep shades.  But before reaching this unexplored scenery, I had to die.  And before that I had to know the God within and without were one. And yet, before even that struggle wrought by youthful temerity, desperate groping and inchoate spirituality in the seven-year crepuscular dome, all culminating in one terrifying moment in Hengyang; I had to love and trust a God I couldn’t even feel, but for the myriad wonders of the world, believed in.  Read More

Q’s Angels

Sadness about the angels who must forget what they are in order to be here.  Tiny ones gathered in my daughter’s cheek to pad her from when the kindergartner had a seizure and dropped her onto the floor.  The incident replayed over and over again in my mind keeping me from sleeping, my husband turned away from me, furious about the whole thing.  “Where is your mind?” Read More

Swing

pendulum-david-raderstorf

It wasn’t the cult that made me do these things.  I am as unaffiliated as the man stranded on the island who built a swing.  We all thought he was out of his wits –or maybe that’s all that was left—but here we are all on the same universal pendulum and no one ever says a damn thing about how fuckin crazy we all are not to jump off.  Minds and cells all jostled from a lifetime of the up-and-down, back-and-forth, yet we still convince ourselves we know what is best.  Go down swinging, that’s how we like it.  What do I care about a guy who got it right in his dizzied brain?  How was I supposed to know that jumping is the only way off this nightmarish ride?

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