I. They fought like hell over that border, I’m told. The Tigers and the Free Staters Hating each other to death, shoot on sight. These days, you can find the rumpled shirts and smoke stained fingers of their aging children nubbing down the old wooden pencils, playing KENO at the Twin Cities Tavern. You cross […]Read More Borders
In the shadows of tall buildings Of fallen angels on the ceilings Oily feathers in bronze and concrete Faded colors, pieces left incomplete. –“Cathedrals,” Jump Little Children I fell in love with Stephensdom, Saint Stephen’s Cathedral in Vienna, today. Here are some photos to show you why.Read More Saint Stephen’s Cathedral: An All Saints Day Photo Essay.
I first heard the term “Thin Spaces,” when I was in Divinity School. Eric Weiner’s New York Times Essay from a few years back perhaps best describes the concept: Travel to thin places does not necessarily lead to anything as grandiose as a “spiritual breakthrough,” whatever that means, but it does disorient. It confuses. We […]Read More Thin Places: A Letter Home
May you travel light Especially when it comes to worries. May you breathe an unfamiliar air in Like the gift of a long lost friend May you meander just enough to know The place you’ll long to discover next time May beasts and children and saints meet You in the coming, the going, and return. […]Read More A blessing for an adventure
“Tell me about the way We used to live.” A cross between philosopher And child, this one is. “Moral Geography it is, then,” He’d grumble back, “The pleasure of the sound of ice in the whiskey glass Before my father had a bad thing to say. The question of whose fault it is when the […]Read More The Philosopher’s Bed Time Story
I didn’t change my clothes that day. Just home after a game of basketball. Tennessee hot, even in what should have been fall, made me sweat all the time even then. And then a scream on the other end of the landline (when we still had those) of grief and confusion. Seventeen years later, I […]Read More I didn’t change
I hear him wailing. My hound dog and I have taken to walking through the neighborhood as of late. He has discovered that he is more of a city dog than anything else. He no longer has the patience or the guts for the woods. His ears will pick up the noise of a hawk […]Read More Gentrification #2