Fridays at the Healer’s
By Poetry Issue 104
Once a week he holds me against him like a child and I inhale wood and horse and earth, sometimes sweat (not sharp with the agony of hurry but warm, like a tree trunk seeping sap on a sunny day); I keep my eyes closed, as if afraid time will shift like a rocking boat beneath my feet, and that…
Read MoreIn the Studio: Saba Khan
By Visual Art Issue 104
What I enjoy instead are the faults of the hand, the jagged edges, the brashness of jugaar (an Urdu word meaning to innovate within a very small budget).
Read MoreGod of the Midwest
By Poetry Issue 104
God the God of the cement silo, sunset-stained,
and the conveyor
running through the night.
The Ram
By Poetry Issue 104
I was born out of terror,
horn-caught and tangled,
pulled from the brush
with a cry of thorn and leaf.
Stories Don’t Halt at Borders
By Visual Art Issue 104
Nanto never ran out of stories. She would tell us stories of prophets in the desert, how people tried to scheme against them, how they were always too clever for the tricks or were helped by God in some magnificent manner.
Read MoreA Conversation with Lorna Goodison
By Interview Issue 104
Laughter is one way in which I experience God, and so I want to write about the ways in which I am sometimes lucky to experience the divine, as friend. A friend who makes you laugh out loud, and who makes you weep. I’m a weeper, and that too is a gift from God.
Read MoreMy Brother Beside Me
By Essay Issue 104
I used to keep my beliefs about hell tucked latent in the hidden place. After Joe died, they began to eat at their cupboard, like moths in a sweater drawer.
Read MoreSanto Spirito
By Poetry Issue 104
In Leonardo’s
Annunciation,
is there a dove?
I certainly can’t
find one—but
Leonardo is famous
for hiding things,
Reconciliation
By Photo Essay Issue 104
As a queer woman raised Catholic, I have had a complex relationship to the church—making these photographs was part confession, part reconciliation.
Read MoreAssembly Line Prayer
By Fiction Issue 104
that you commit some part of your mind and heart to an unshakeable belief in the logic of global capital, which means that on a smaller scale you commit some part of your mind and heart to an unshakeable belief in the necessity of placing a two-inch needle into an instrument panel over and over and over again,
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