Body Blue: Excerpts from a Novoir
March 27, 2018To write is to siphon the clouds, the stars, the wind and rain through the pen. It’s like holding a root into the earth of the soul. It’s like a channel from the sun to…
To write is to siphon the clouds, the stars, the wind and rain through the pen. It’s like holding a root into the earth of the soul. It’s like a channel from the sun to…
It has been rightly stated that the Epistle of Jude is the most neglected book in the New Testament.[1] Such an assertion was made in 1975 by Douglas Rowston, who noticed that, “[w]ith the exception…
“We will yet have Miltons and Shakespeares of our own.” —Orson F. Whitney Since the organization of the Church, Mormon spiritual leaders have emphasized the importance of attaining knowledge, both spiritual and secular.[1] Not only have…
The summer 2002 edition of Irreanteum: Exploring Mormon Literature is de voted to the theme of environmental writing in LDS theology and culture. It features poems solicited by guest editor Todd Petersen by several contemporary…
When the above notice appeared in the Improvement Era in September 1933, it did not seem out of place in a publication intended for the general church membership. In the same issue of the Improvement Era, Theodore E. Curtis posted a notice for another collection of poetry. Its announcement included endorsements from notable leaders of the church:
For the last several years I have had the opportunity to serve on the Mormon History Association’s book awards committee. That assignment— in addition to my day job as Curator of Special Collections at Weber…
One of the most intriguing ironies of life in Salt Lake City during the nineteenth century was the clash of the Mormons who were morally outraged to see the advent of prostitution in their valley…
Will Bagley stands, metaphorically, on the shoulders of Juanita Brooks, peering into southwestern Utah’s landscape to witness a ghastly sight: the murder of over one hundred men, women, and children at the hands of Mormon…
“Sally snores,” says Ed, and I sink into my shoulders and smile uncomfortably at Gemma and Frank on the couch. “I don’t snore,” I say defensively. “I don’t even sleep.” “Ho,” answers Ed. He leans…
Into her brownies she sifts sunshine
into a day she irons the clear scent of giving.