Christmas Card from Siple Station, Antarctica
March 27, 2018Awake all night where no night conies she trasmits waves into the sky from sixty feet beneath snow. Some arc into the solar winds
Awake all night where no night conies she trasmits waves into the sky from sixty feet beneath snow. Some arc into the solar winds
The moment that I cannot comprehend is when you took your garments off. I wonder (though I don’t quite want to know) whether, when the moment came, it was conscious or was incidental.
Mrs. Robinson sang in the choir. In the church, my face, my husband’s, and one other white couple on the stage.
I live in a Motherless house, A broken home. How it happened I cannot learn.
My people were Mormon pioneers. Is the blood still good? They stood in awe as truth Flew by like a dove And dropped a feather in the West. Where truth flies you follow If […]
We couldn’t say the yes that would loosen our grip, tutoring us in doing without. Some things were simply snatched away.
In the interval after the mastectomy before her head was a slick white egg, she would color the gray roots of her dark blanket-soft hair with drugstore dye.
[…] Foster’s article is excellent. Let me simply share a few additional thoughts about how my understanding of the charismatic prophet’s regress and demise has changed since my book Prophetic Charisma went to press. I […]
[…] things, and also there was no use for the photos in those days. Now there is the World Wide Web, which combines audio and visual photos very well. But the photos in the show […]
Across a shattered street, a Muslim groom lifts the train of his Christian bride as he steps over broken glass, old tires, and miles of rubblestone. Her face, a dark rose, is the only […]