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
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…
It could have been an impossible day.
And then the wind
helping the Gardener’s Eden keep its promise:
the outdoor ornaments
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…
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…
The publication of Anne Perry’s Tathea in September 1999 under Deseret Book’s Shadow Mountain imprint marks a significant literary mile stone in Mormon letters. Although Tathea’s appearance was heralded by The Salt Lake Tribune and the…
Mary Clyde’s short story collection, Survival Rates, won the Flannery O’Conner award for short fiction last year. Two other Mormon story writers in the past six years have achieved the same honor: Paul Rawlins, whose…
The old man walked out from under the line of high, heavy trees bordering the cemetery. He stopped. He looked up, blinking his eyes. He held his hands palms up to the fading April sunlight.…
It came then that Sara dreamed of the flood. It had been the news for weeks, cities all along the Front sandbagging streets, sidewalks, driveways, window wells, a mudslide that made a lake over a…
Past
Through iron gates shine
Bronze doors never opened—Holiness to the Lord.
Sun, moon, and stars live in granite,
Carved by dead ancestors