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Search results for: as petals fall

As Petals Fall

By Cathy WarnerJuly 25, 2017

I met a little boy new to the neighborhood this evening when I was pulling weeds in my yard. “Why are you in the dirt?” he asked, trundling to where I crouched. “I’m pulling weeds.” “Why?” “So that there’s there more room for the flowers.” “Why?” “Because I like the flowers.” “Why?” “Because they’re pretty.”…

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La Pulchra Nota

By Molly McNett Short Story

  Do not love the world or the things in the world…. For all that is in the world, the lust of the flesh and the lust of the eyes and the pride of life, is not of the Father, but is of the world. And the world passes away, and the lust of it;…

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Finding Another World in Winterkill

By Peggy RosenthalApril 13, 2016

“There is another world, but it is in this one.” —William Butler Yeats Reading Yeats’s line, I think vaguely incarnational thoughts: heaven enters earth with Christ’s Incarnation; God dwells within our world, not separated from it; and so on. I believe these statements. Yet these formulations give me nothing to grasp onto, nothing to engage…

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Give Dust a Tongue

By John F. Deane Short Story

MY DEAREST KATIE, Do you remember that evening we flew together from Burlington in Vermont to Saint Paul in Minnesota? Do you remember how the wind came in off Lake Champlain and cut through the streets of Burlington like a sawblade, the snow blistering somewhere out over the lake? We flew just ahead of the…

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Twenty-First Century Lines

By Jason Gray Book Review

Wild Is the Wind, Carl Phillips (Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2018) The Book of Endings, Leslie Harrison (University of Akron Press, 2017) In the Language of My Captor, Shane McCrae (Wesleyan University Press, 2017) WHAT CAN POETRY DO that other genres cannot? What makes it unique among the arts? What territory, however small, can poetry…

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Kara, I Was Animal

By Marie Curran Essay

YOU WERE HOLDING THE BEEF DIP you had brought to the vegetarian potluck when I met you. The potluck was the lunch hour of the day-long birthing class at our midwife’s cabin. Through the large window behind the kitchen sink I saw the snow falling heavy and wet on the woods behind her home. I…

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Fierce Mercy:
The Theater Art of Karin Coonrod

By John Skillen Essay

Tables covered with flying white cloths and laden with food appear out of nowhere for a crowd of several hundred in a piazza at the edge of the cliff, in the oldest part of this old city. Strings of dazzling lights stretch across the square as a dove flies up and the bells of the…

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What Keeps Me from You

By Richard ChessNovember 28, 2017

What keeps me from you: a meeting with human resources. What keeps me from you: I slept through the night to the dream of shopping. For a board. With wheels. Low to the ground. Lower than other boards. Lower to the ground than most kids. You can skate, you can roll, but you can’t fall.…

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Pont des Arts

By Richard Jones Poetry

The pain passes, ——but the beauty remains.                             —Renoir Wandering the Musée de l’Orangerie with my sister, we find a bouquet of roses painted in 1878 by Auguste Renoir, voluptuous white roses placed in a red velvet chair. My sister says Renoir’s last word was “flowers” and that toward the end of his life he…

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