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A Conversation with Li-Young Lee

By Paul T. Corrigan Interview

Li-Young Lee’s books of poetry include Rose (1986), winner of the Delmore Schwartz Memorial Poetry Award; The City in Which I Love You (1990), which was a Lamont Poetry Selection; Book of My Nights (2001), which won the William Carlos Williams Award; From Blossoms: Selected Poems (2007), and Behind My Eyes (2008). His other work…

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Foreknowledge

By Jeanne Murray Walker Poetry

I think he planned it, sort of, from the start; whether he knew they’d choose the fruit or not, he scattered hints around the garden, what to do in case they got themselves kicked out. A shirt of fur around the lamb. The stream converting water into syllables. Bamboo pipes. The caps of mushrooms round…

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Language as Sacrament in the New Testament

By Franz Wright Essay

A version of this essay was delivered at Boston University on November 1, 2007, at a lecture sponsored by the Luce Program in Scripture and Literary Arts in memory and honor of Amos Niven Wilder. THE LANGUAGE OF THE NEW TESTAMENT has been with me since childhood. The words of Jesus, specifically, are so familiar…

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The Napkin

By Richard Jones Poetry

—Lord, take the stone of my heart and break it— When it comes to conversation, I like the idea of the wailing wall, scribbling a petition on a scrap of paper and slipping the paper scrap into a crack between sun-blistered stones, knowing our prayers may not be granted, but trusting the silence that answers.…

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The Psalm of Your Face

By Nicholas Samaras Poetry

Lord, let your face be lined. Lord, let your hair be gray with patience. Holy Father, let your cheeks be silver with long growth as you put up with me and put up with me. Lord, let your face be a blazon of parts in which I can name you sufficient to be seen in…

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The Psalm of Then

By Nicholas Samaras Poetry

Then, the Lord heard me in the wilderness of my soul. Then, the lost place of me became clear. Then, I recognized distraction for what it is. Then, I was freed from the desert of diversion. Then, I was moved to the green oasis within me. Then, the still voice of the Lord was as…

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Half Like Them

By Roxane Beth Johnson Poetry

Over many years, I have dreamed away my color and turned inside out, like the wet machinery of an orange. I’m all yard; the sycamores are my likeness. Their leaves list like sleeping bats. Hose in hand, I drink as water pours down my Easter dress. Jesus bled to death in front of a crowd…

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Disciple’s Song

By Roxane Beth Johnson Poetry

Carpenter means Jesus—his hands to splinters, a bench to sand and rub smooth corners from the tree’s needle skin to build a boat. I want to follow Christ, but where? To a threshold—a place to marry, a pulpit where the preacher sweats, a precipice, the last land seen as others wave, that boat sails out,…

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When the Lord Returns in His Creaturely Perfection

By Lance Larsen Poetry

He will burrow and gallop, buffalo the prairie again, penguin the unhatched egg, then sleep off centuries of miracles with the three-toed sloth. What a magician, one minute pirouetting among banks of cumulus, the next grazing underground cafés with the star-nosed mole. Out of caves, from under bridges, a million translations of a single verb,…

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Dead and Alive

By Elinor Benedict Poetry

When they heard from his friend, the woman, that he’d escaped the cave, they’d already forgotten how Lazarus once had come out at his command, although they protested, fearing he’d bear some unholy perfume that would make fools of all who saw the miracle. That dead man, sweet as clean laundry, even ate some dinner,…

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