Winter Burial
April 17, 2018[…] and mottled snow that day we brought him there to you. I stepped on headstones to avoid the mud and deer dung just in time to see the grey steel box descend. I watched […]
[…] and mottled snow that day we brought him there to you. I stepped on headstones to avoid the mud and deer dung just in time to see the grey steel box descend. I watched […]
The sound burrs in my head like a racket of angry birds swirling from the sky. He’s gone again;
DIALOGUE: A JOURNAL OF MORMON THOUGHT begins both its twentieth volume and its twenty-first year with the publication of this issue. Launched in 1966 as a daring and earnest effort to transform the serious conversation […]
mused in several voices to the tune of tinkling cymbals It wasn’t like she didn’t blend right in. In fact, based on the type of clothes she wore, People always figured she was from […]
Cupped in your papery palm the rose was like a wound, flowering. Your wife nodded when we brought it. Yes, Papa, yes is pretty. Then she put it in a bowl to float and […]
we were young and war was our way we’d fight in class or after school
To watch a daughter die — One could practice a lifetime And never do it well. The labored hell
[…] Dialogue’s editorial team and friends that’s spirited, spiritual, wide-ranging, and thought-provoking. Recent offerings: Why I don’t like the priesthood-motherhood analogy: Part one of a million partsby Rebecca J Reaching the Isolated by Guest poster […]
[…] her extraordinary perceptions to the rhythms of speech and the concrete details of ordinary life. In “The News” she mentally rehearses a scene in which the tumor is pronounced “benign,” and then with a […]
Southern Illinois in sweltering and wet summer. Thunder and the whippoorwill sing strange duets at night. From southwestern deserts to the closest