The Canyon That is Not a Canyon
March 16, 2018This is Dagan on the day after a 4 a.m. porn binge. Another. The third in as many weeks. He drifts into the living room in late afternoon, sees Tam at his computer, freezes. He…
This is Dagan on the day after a 4 a.m. porn binge. Another. The third in as many weeks. He drifts into the living room in late afternoon, sees Tam at his computer, freezes. He…
Every now and then I make it a point to go
without knowing to these places, try to discover
a view of my own, be surprised, have
an experience uncluttered by history or the facts.
I try to imagine my way to a bit of truth or the
answer to some awkward childhood riddle.
Again the curlew calls its name.
Where we’ve camped over years,
the sky has already distanced itself
from the heat press of summer,
the lakeshore fluent
with ridges only seasons of water can scroll.
It’s as if the fields of five decades
have been broomed clean—dry as straw.
But in the border woods, ground holds scent:
leaf-humus and pine,
an after-hint of smoke, or ash.
The escalator broken again
We climb the adjacent stairs
In wingtips and houndstooth slacks.
I peer into the guts of the silent machine.
This is where my mind wanders,
Behind this desk, bathed in soft
Monitor light. This is where
I levitate, oscillate, and glide
Apples! Bags and boxes of apples! So many of them lined the perimeter of our garage that the car hardly fit. It was mid-October, and I stood there counting the apples picked from our three backyard trees and asked myself how long it would take to deal with all of them. This year I was determined not to let any go to waste.
Some readers of this article may know me as an environmental activist (my version of public and church service). A few may know me as an outdoor photographer (my day job). But here I’d like to put on another of my hats. Long before I took up cameras and activism, I was a student of the ancient Near East, with a special interest in Israel and the Bible. In this article, I propose to turn exegete once again and examine the biblical notion of Zion as a model for sustainable living in a world threatened on many fronts by the consequences of its own success.
I put bras in the dryer and forget to refill the toilet paper, and I left the milk on the counter this morning. Again. But I ask for directions and say “I love you,” and…
When I knelt down to pray with John, we were committing a crime. When we spoke about the Book of Mormon, we were cautious of who might be listening. We were brothers in the truest…