I. The Cornucopia Emerging cold and desperate, his whiting breath Trails behind him like the old ship’s own signature Disgorged in blunt belchings of smoke from its belly Through a single squat stack piping up the trying pots. The wit-starved whaler tells his hunger-angry crew: Sing a tune from groggy memory; desires supply the words. There’s the sea and he scans it like a line of poetry [Read more...]
my church is sending me to Mexico it was autumn of course a deviled egg and the three of us shared some rye bread the river was already frozen Ina, I have resolved to become a religious man
Time takes miles from life, years rolling out, tolling mpg’s,
From a perpetually restless motor. The past, awkward and unwieldy,
Is a highway map folded in confusion’s haste.
It goes too far back for me to follow.
You become an absence, the might of a subjunctive ghost,
Expected as a radio station
And the time and place its fading signal finally dies. [Read more…]
Yesterday I saw a baby bird. I was sweaty and hot because I just got out of gym class and we had played my favorite game—dodgeball. I’m the best in the third grade! Except for Brian. Brian’s even better than I am and pegs me in the head every time. The teacher never gets mad at him, even though head hits are illegal.
Gym is the one thing at school that I’m good at. Everyday I hear, “Conner, you could be getting A’s in all your classes if only you’d stop talking!” I don’t know why teachers don’t want me to talk. On TV kids always talk in class and the teacher never notices. Actually, teachers are a lot dumber on TV. [Read more…]
Do you know Slim the Cowboy, the Hero of the West? He found a rattler by the sofa, bravely beat it up. He saved his friend the sheriff when the local gang got rough, Then drank his campfire coffee from his pewter loving-cup. That’s Slim, in his bandana and fleece vest. Did you see Slim the Cowboy as he galloped into town? He left his mustang Star tied in the stable-yard out back (That stable looks suspiciously like my green baker’s rack), Then sat down at the bar and had a sliced-banana snack. That’s Slim, in small snow-boots of blue and brown. [Read more...]
I didn’t notice the trees hard-etching the empty November sky as vividly last year. My eyes were elsewhere, and my body a year less tired, less worn, and yet less stripped of the weight that gathers in those long blind years when we feel most wise. [Read more...]
Anders O.F. Hendrickson
Ejected, exiled, homeless, Eden banned, no fires called Adam home at end of day but Eve’s; and there alone where Sarah lay held nomad Abram any share of land. Beside the garden locked seemed naught but sand to Solomon his court in royal array; and home enough was Egypt’s farthest quay to Joseph, if but Mary held his hand. [Read more...]
My friend tells me he was born 1984. I was born then. My friend tells me he ran cross country in middle school. I ran track. My friend tells me he ran a marathon. I ran one last year. My friend tells me he ran his in ‘81. I tell my friend to shut up. He never talks again and I haven’t run a day in my life.
My dad tells me about his wife. “She’s kind of a beautiful woman.” I remind him he’s not married. “She has the hair of a lioness.” I don’t even know what that means. “She prowls around with intent.” I remind him he walks around aimlessly and wonder why mom didn’t leave him sooner.
My brother tells me I don’t understand anything. I tell him I understand that. He tells me I need to grow up. I kick him in the groin and tell him to man up. He cries like me. [Read more…]
Bernardo Aparicio Garcia
Eleanor Bourg Donlon, The Letters of Magdalen Montague
Anders O.F. Hendrickson,
Michael Lee Johnson,
Br. Ignatius Peacher, O. Cist.,
Eleanor Bourg Donlon,
Art and Photography
Sarah Hempel Irani,
Faith at the Edge: A New Generation of Catholic Writers Reflects on Life, Love, Sex, and Other Mysteries
Edited by Angelo Matera
Ave Maria Press, 2008
196 pages, $15.95
“You shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you odd.” So said Flannery O’Connor towards the middle of the twentieth century. Judging by the contents of Faith at the Edge, a new book of mostly short but striking personal essays, it appears a new generation of Catholic writers agrees. In their various essays—which touch on “Life, Love, Sex, and Other Mysteries,” as the book’s subtitle declares—these authors do not shy away from presenting the oddity of their Christian lives: the sign of contradiction they embody as followers of an ancient faith in a postmodern world. [Read more…]