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By Betsy Sholl Poetry

I wouldn’t call gulping a glass of ale and backhanding foam off your upper lip a form of devotion, or the refusal to laugh at an off-color joke a sign of reverence. But I could imagine God, a wounded rat in one hand, a soothing song— I do not say on his lips. No, it’s…

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Devotion: For Our Bodies

By Brett Foster Poetry

Yes love, I must confess I’m at it again, struggling in vain with my Greek declensions. I know it’s common, but I want to show you what I found in Praxeis Apostolon, chapter one, verse twenty-four: this exquisite epithet, kardiognosta. Forget briefly its context, that the eleven, genuflecting, implore the Lord to give wisdom. Between…

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By Tara Bray Poetry

sphere of pillowed sky one faceless gathering of blue shyly, I want to sit by you but don’t old globe come home a blue-soft let near the cheek dozer, I’m tethered, and devoted to your raw and lonely bloom my lavish need to drink your world of crowded cups to fill.

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