The Distress (Letter to the Editor)
My eyes peruse the abuse from the tip of an unbeliever’s pen. We shall counter that blade with flaming swords holding back their tide of triumph. The enemy shall not
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Poetry
Fairest
The mirror’s glamour gloomy shade reflected not what he thought: the sleep on the road, on the run prisons of papier-mâché monsters of men, martyrs wearing crowns of thorns. While
Homecoming
This predilection to malediction diseases, such as these, if it pleases: mad cow hog cough chickensick bold wives tales in old folks’ tomes three, the number of your destiny. wishes,
WORTH
shuttled through the tunnels like so much spoiled meat snuffling and a’snarling this beast upon two feet Minotaurian presence half-man, the body shared double the size of mere mortals if
PYRE
‘tis only right, but we ain’t got time for a proper burial. Even a cairn of unbridled possibility stacking up to cover up bodies we pray you’ll never have to
Slippery
The least of these beasts, please, twisting under trees, aiming for your Achillies daughter of Eve danger in the dirt just enough until it hurts stock still, stone cold statue
Commonplace Church: Advent 2017
Once, it was foretold that your son would be conceived of a virgin. Come, Lord Jesus. God was silent, for four hundred years, before the birth of your son. Come,
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P.P.S.
These apparitional jaunts, haunt these halls, taunt these tall tales I tell myself. Face the facts: Paul Bunyan swung his axe still failed to fell the trees. Paul Sheldon, tied