All day he’s tasted it.
Last night too.
His eyes burning,
like the city where
smoke still chars the sky.
History will not record
exactly how it was.
Some perhaps will grasp
wisps of the story.
He knows his part.
She looked back.
He yearned to.
You cannot live so long together
and not lean into the other,
longing having grown
like twin trees
Memories,
Not all smoke-nor tears-
but glintings and illuminations
and laughter as well
He offered his daughters.
Brassy offenders, these men
would not take common desserts.
Like most, they desired to rise-
the closest to truth they’d come.
But, how different was the heart
that offered his daughters?
Not all desires acted-
seeking-
the numinous everywhere.
Having to face deserts again,
he turns from his wife-
a salt lick for cattle,
his head a brazier.
Still Life, Still Sacred
Renaissance painters would use life-sized wooden dolls called manichini to study how drapery folds on the human…
Letters
I am writing not to address any particular article, but rather to register my concern about the…
While We’re At It
Propaganda: misleading and biased portrayal of facts, often used to inculcate and reinforce an ideology or political…