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Coupé

In winter, you get onto the train to Moscow at dusk or at first dark. From the Tallinn train station, you can almost see the lights of the harbor. The train station, though, smells nothing…

Military Funeral in a High Hills Cemetery

An adulterous generation after all. 
We seek a sign, some old tune or rhyme 
Like Grandfather’s Clock, even as we stand
Among the tumbling chaos of death and birth

Day Music

The mountain is a redhead 
lying on his back 
nose and knees pointed 
to the sun. His hair 

Wild Things

I’ve heard of horses—mustangs mostly—who run wild across Nevada’s
bleak terrain. (They kind of remind me of Uncle Bill, who ran wild, too, last
summer, until Aunt Shirley caught up with him at the border). Horses know
no borders, don’t allow limits, except those imposed by a weariness of

A History of Dialogue, Part One: The Early Years, 1965-1971

For nearly thirty-four years, Dialogue: A Journal of Mormon Thought has occupied a place, defined by former co-editor Allen Roberts, as the “pa triarch (or matriarch)” of independent Mormon scholarship.[1] And notwithstanding an increase of…

Plain and Simple

It could have been an impossible day. 

And then the wind 
helping the Gardener’s Eden keep its promise:
the outdoor ornaments

Bearing Your Sanctimony: Monologues on Dialogue

In the unabridged Webster’s, “Dialogue” is listed first as “talking together in conversation.” That seems harmless enough, but the second definition is frankly a nest of thorns: “interchange and discussion of ideas,” it says, “especially…

bash | Neil LaBute, bash: latterday plays

The last time we saw Mormons prominently featured on the New York stage was in Tony Kushner’s Angels in America, where an orgasm-inducing female Angel Moroni crashed (literally) through an apartment ceiling and radicalized an…