One Hundred Birds Taught Me to Fly: The Art of Seeking God is a collection of short missives—poems, essays, and autobiographical sketches— grouped loosely and thematically into thirteen sections and an epilogue. Ashley Mae Hoiland…
Five kings fell when Joshua prayed first for Gibeon sun
Then moonlight in the valley of Ajalon to stay slant and
Still beam; freeze a span of time beyond its allotted measure.
Bishop warned Brock Hartman ahead of time. “They’ll ask for a food order.” He opened a desk drawer and took out a binder filled with requisitions for the storehouse. “But they have a decent income…
The gaze of the girl on the cover of Eric Freeze’s short story collection arrested me—stopped me. Her eyes, full of hostility, told me that if I opened the book, I would be intruding. Her…
Dear Holy (one?) I hope you are home for this.
Tell me the name of your name. For this
I am on my knees (though I am closed
still. Bruised.) But I have come for this.
When Danny DiLorenzo got up to speak I was thinking about how I could loosen my tie. My mother makes me wear one, and after an hour my body fights back. I stand in front…
Before the black suits,
before the string of pearls
you will be in your bedroom slippers, steel woolling the pans.
Your coveralls, your boots, mucking out stalls.
My son hunches into the storm in his oversized coat
to collect fast offerings, a two-hour route
because the other mother’s sons stay in when it’s cold.
He is mine.
His wrists
-0- The grizzly, white-bearded weaver was as silent as the shadow of a ring-tailed civet cat—“reserved,” the folks in Pleasant Grove called the Russian. He did capable work making small throw rugs on a yew…
This is the most I’ve bled in a while,
blood blooms in the sink like a burnt offering.
It is hot today.
A forlorn train calls
through the open window.