DiaBLOGue

It was the high Uintas,
evening of our first day-hike
with grandchildren . . . their lives until then
seeming distant, clustered and glowing
as the far Pleiades to our gazing.

On Mother’s Day it snows
in our backyard, the kind that grows
on cottonwoods and makes my nose
itch inside the nostrils, pinch half-closed

Confirmed in the slim night shadows,
a four-toed blue and gold dragon ridges

the tiles of the moss-glazed roof, ascends
to the slivering waxed Têt moon, an off-center

While you sleep with abandon, I quiverbeside you, what ifs crawling my skin.You, warm beside me: liquidstillness. You toil not, neither do you spin. I wishI could ladle you over me, rub youinto the creases…

“That’s just cheap social issue novel bullshit. . . . [It] makes people like us hope for a smaller, neater world where stories make sense and converge” (228). This is protagonist Cassandra Soelberg’s response when confronted by…

In the summer of 2009, as a master’s student, I sat in one of the Neal A. Maxwell Institute’s summer seminars when the topic turned to the absence of a biography on Joseph F. Smith.…

If the strength of a religious community is determined by how vigorously its leaders, scholars, and members can renegotiate the historical and common interpretations of its sacred texts while maintaining community cohesion, then the (re)scripturalization…

From Matriarchs I come from a multigenerational line of women who crave Mother Earth. My great-grandma worked in Yellowstone National Park every summer and married a Yellowstone architect. My grammie basically grew up there, as…

Stonehenge was a disappointment. If we had shown up for the summer solstice, we could have touched the stones while watching the sun rise. However, that would have involved fighting our way through a crowd…

“Pretty girls don’t buy cocaine,” Greta[1] says and laughs as she walks out the front door. My hands and face sting as I stand frozen in the entryway and hear her start the car. I’d…