Postmodern Christians
We are bleached out poles holding up tattered flags of twilight. Wind forsaken, standing solo on rooftops of age-curled ache and desire. Where did that day go w...
We are bleached out poles holding up tattered flags of twilight. Wind forsaken, standing solo on rooftops of age-curled ache and desire. Where did that day go w...
One day Gabriel Marcel, not wishing to appear erudite, nevertheless said this erudite thing: Through a phrase from Brahms…which ran through my head for an...
Sure, it gets better than this, but as a second rate experience, walking into a Starbucks that just opened a half block from your condo and hearing KD Lan...
Here’s another poem, like a fragrant offering, sent along by Wendy Morton. IN CHILE the miners rise into the light and the world weeps in precise jubilation. He...