Sister

Photography by Summer Murdock

“Leave the kids with Dad. You’ll be more fun without them.”

I just don’t get it. Have you been letting the Beyoncés of the world get to you? You, once on wisdom’s path, now believing pride is power is a person’s worth. The pedestal trap. Read More

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Pindrop 


“There’s nothing to say about maritime sadness:
Immodest signals from unreachable islands,
Earthrise on the moon.”
– James Galvin, from ‘Something to Save Us’

Cull the living world, its krill
Roil its blues and greens and whites
With fingertip the needle eye
In vast stifled space from lunar foothold
Anchor drifts as murmuring plankton —
Somewhere you are at bottom of my mind Read More

Space Between Raindrops 


Sunday morning we lingered in bed tucked away from the cold reality of our uninsulated room, as the rain came down and the aspen turned outside. In each stint of wakefulness God said that we are now more spirit than flesh. There is no reason to have reservations about conducting the choir or any other work the spirit will lead my hands to perform. My meditations, antiphonal. You will know meRead 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

Loss and Viruses, A Train-ride to DC, Sisterhood

Glassworks

On the train to DC to visit Bek, a man came from a few rows up and across the aisle to tap my shoulder and hold up a screen that read, “Will you help me?” He is deaf and needed to call his case-worker, Mrs. Allen, to let her know that he is on the train. I called her and she told me that it was okay for him to go back to his apartment. I typed her reply and as I got up to return to my seat he leaned in and told me, “I just lost my family in an explosion.”  Read More

Gilt Indigo Lips

Painting by Jarek “Khaal” Kubicki

What happens when you see no end
To the blues and faraway song, your only friend
And there’s no sheep in your flock to tend
And you try to play but it hurts to pretend
Ain’t nothin fallin down to amend
Cuz you’ve made yourself able to bend
All the way to the ground
Because it’s all turned all around
You think down is up and up, a playground
Where lost children go to be found
By open arms and lips that make not a sound
But the kisses that say, ‘how bout another round?’ Read More

Uncarving Lines

spilled-food-art-giulia-bernardelli-36

Art by Giulia Bernardelli

Reading Crime and Punishment in the dark and wet rural Chinese winter and Joshua got sick with a fever on the border town.  Wanting to kill the nihilist prick, “Rodya,” I explored the streets alone and brought back a paper bowl of noodles.  The inherent problem with writing is that it delineates thought and action.  Can we write and free ourselves from further categorization, further erring by playing tricks that depend on the duality illusion? Read More