Well, last week I lifted my head from the TV set after the conclusion of LOST, only to find the world still in a state of holy-hell. Drill babies have ruined the Gulf of Mexico. North & South Korea are blowing smoke and stamping the ground at each other. And once again, the Dow...
Ah, yes. The news. NPR is in perpetual telethon mode, so we’d thought we’d get everyone up to speed. The new senator from Massachusetts has his first day today, where senate Republicans and one Democrat will exercise their 41% majority to filibuster federal nominations. American manufacturers are chanting “USA” celebrating Toyota’s massive brake recall....
People shouting. Dad pulled the car over and went to see if he could help. Mom told me to keep looking forward—not to look. But I did. I saw the frame: metal sheets, peeled back, reflecting the sun. Waves of heat rising from the asphalt. A little later Dad came...
by Jason Boyte This past Wednesday, we, relatively quietly, put a man to death. By the time of his death, his name was John Allen Muhammad. Previously, he was John Allen Williams, an American military man who grew up in New Orleans. If you don’t remember the time the way that I do, this...
The DC sniper was executed Wednesday, November 11 by lethal injection. Read more at The Washington Post
I’ve been thinking a lot about patience — largely because it has been a huge challenge of mine to actually have it lately. Times have been tough, time and money short, and dreams have had to be pushed off, remeasured, and truncated too much lately. Seems that’s the case for most people I talk...
by Jason Ward Boyte This morning I was baptized. Now I’m lying stretched out in the backseat with my legs up on the black vinyl. It’s hot. My calves and the back of my neck stick, but I don’t have the energy to move. Pastor Sherwood said the next flood would be fire. That...
by Sonia Greenfield If you listen close To the shell-shaped cookie You can hear the ocean And the sea’s fortune speaks: You will never know hunger. As if it were simply enzymatic To digest this idea. As simple as bread in mouth To quiet the din Of organs consuming organs. The noise cries up...
by Stephen Gibson This is what men do when they can not sleep: They sit and write poems to you through the night, Or they wander the alleyways saying your name to the universe, Over and over again, rehearsing your name like the answer To a question they want to be asked. They do...
