Poetry for the End of Seasons Hunger for Salt, Elaine Fletcher Chapman Autumn-summer cusp—a breath—a good moment to read “September Begins,” from Elaine Fletcher Chapman’s debut collection, Hunger for Salt. “[O]ne psalm, picked randomly / this morning, one hundred and thirty one: / O, lord, my heart is not lifted up… / I have calmed and quieted my …
Further thoughts on the territory of hunger and ache. (For part 1, see “Empty Space”: the sometimes-painful act of letting go, and being willing to sit with our hungers.) I didn’t plan to write any more on the subject, but then there was a confluence of events: A podcast. A performance. So I guess I’ll be doing a little …
Further thoughts on the territory of hunger and ache. (For part 1, see “Empty Space”: the sometimes-painful act of letting go, and being willing to sit with our hungers.) I didn’t plan to write any more on the subject, but then there was a confluence of events: A podcast. A performance. A pastoral pondering. So I guess …
Rob and I (aka The Scrivening Bartlebys) loved making a joyful ruckus at House of Brews last weekend. Thanks if you were one of the beloved friends who came! But the best moment might’ve been when this guy crept up on stage… (Can you spot him on the right?)
Sine proprio. It means “without grasping.” It’s Latin, a phrase used in the vows taken by Franciscan friars—or that’s what I learned from my friar friend, anyway. Specifically, sine proprio is the phrase used for the vow of Poverty. I would’ve thought they’d use a phrase like “without money” for a vow of poverty. But the point …
Opening up my mailbox to find indie (literary) books I might never otherwise discover is one of the pleasures of reviewing for IMAGE Journal. Each month I get to read and ponder a new one for their digest of delights, ImageUpdate, and recently it was Animal Heart, a collection of short stories by Paul Luikart. Luikart has worked …
We almost didn’t make the visit; it stormed in the morning. But the day shook off the rain and we headed east, miles of wet vineyards glowing green in the new light—my bearded beloved, my wee boys & me. Out in Greenport, at the house of our good friend V. Hansmann (poet, essayist, and host of …
“Tell me what you’ve been thinking about lately,” I said to my husband. (This is—a friend pointed out to me recently—a classic June question. I like to hear people’s deep thoughts: what they’re wrestling with, who and what they love, what they’ve always wanted to do with their lives. You’d be amazed how deep you …
95% of my days are a quotidian mixture of laboring at my desk and the care and feeding of hurricanes. (Pictured here: Hurricane #1 and Hurricane #2, along with a rare eye-of-the-storm moment) I’m pretty tired, usually; but when all is said and done, it’s a lucky life. Last week, though, felt like I’d been …