Oil upon Oil
April 18, 2018Like the sound of laying the warp, whispered names resonate within the grained, muraled, marble and curtain walls of this holy place, and veil the light and air with your form, hands
Like the sound of laying the warp, whispered names resonate within the grained, muraled, marble and curtain walls of this holy place, and veil the light and air with your form, hands
I’d ridden this way a hundred times, Up Monday Town along the fence Dividing wheat from perennial sage Herding cattle to summer grazing
With the possible exception of Louis L’Amour, Wallace Stegner has probably been interviewed more frequently than any other living Western writer. This is an impressive tribute to Stegner’s accessibility to representatives of both scholarly […]
When the first letter comes, a quiet verdict, water sheds its sense: coastlines stiffen,
What kind of God has made this sapphire tide stroking the white sand mouth of Yucatan, outrageously extravagant, a place fit for the baptism of God or kings
Gone from the pampas. The only brunette; her first airplane flight at six months.
No room at the inn, For them, anyway. It didn’t take ESP to read the situation. Just avoiding unpleasantness later. He had enough on his mind just then.
I have always been a flowering vine, Seeking new trellises to trail on, Climbing ladders to the sky, Lusting over neighbor fences
Update: you can now watch Terryl Givens and Matthew Grow discuss the life and theological musings of Parley P. Pratt courtesy of this YouTube video from Benchmark Books.
“Go get dressed. You’re no man for this army!” I went, thanking for the first time the crook In my spine that stopped me buck naked From buck privacy, and took me back to you