• Smoke and Ice

    November 26, 2005

    We came back to the country for Thanksgiving Day. As the landscape outside the car window blurred more rural, less urban, I felt the inner child crying out for the leafy green safety blanket. True, in the city I can fulfill nearly every need within a five mile radius; every need except that unnamed longing... Read More

  • The Swirling Thoughts of One

    September 18, 2005

    With a gut crammed full of Sunday lunch and a brain crammed full of Chesterton I lay awake looking up at the ceiling. She woke me from a dream. The sermon was just finished and I lay down from exhaustion; preaching had tired me. I’m ninety-five she said, smelling like powder, and I didn’t have... Read More

  • A Farewell Letter

    July 4, 2005

    Dear New York, It’s always hard to say goodbye. We spent alot of time together in younger days, and I know there were a few years when I was off having fun without you. But these last few years have just been great together. I’ve enjoyed so much my early morning drives, watching the sun... Read More

  • (Life)

    April 5, 2005

    I’m twenty eight today. Life is good. This state of limbo–between my old life and my new life–I could do with out. This gap between the present and the future seems so interminable! I have all the anticipation of my new life, none of the excitement of my old life, so I’m caught between churches,... Read More

  • PCC Memories

    March 24, 2005

    My student always say that I wrench my hands and that when I do I’m preparing something evil. Well, the hands have been wrenching for quite some time over this little web-jewel, but I don’t think this would be classified ‘evil’–mischievous perhaps. I’ve put together an ever-growing collection of stories, pictures and audio clips from... Read More

  • Byzantium

    February 9, 2005

    Our English class begins our study of Dandelion Wine this week, and as we do, I am reminded of just how vivid a stroke Bradbury can muster. His way with words is exquisite, and unlike Steinbeck and Hemmingway, Bradbury delights in the details, saturating each word with brilliant imagery to create a sort of literary... Read More

  • Memory Lane (Part the First)

    January 3, 2005

    I got thinking about all the people I know and all the people they know and all the people that I know who know many of the people that I know, and I thought, “Wouldn’t it be a good idea to tell everyone I know where everyone that I know is, so if they know... Read More

  • A Dirty Post

    August 23, 2004

    I decided to climb up into a tree fort to compose this blog. There was an old inflatable figurine with wide, lifeless eyes – sans air – lying in the corner of the fort, so I picked it up to toss it down into the yard. Beneath it, water had collected and more than fifty... Read More

  • Childhood and Tearlessness

    July 21, 2004

    I have not cried in months. What I cannot understand about us is that we see childhood as a pitiful moment that will dry up and blow away not a moment too soon.  When heaven is so full of innocence, our children are yearning, reaching, scheming for an adulthood wracked with guilt and pain.  To... Read More

  • December 25th, 2003

    December 25, 2003

    These are no magic numbers. I will wake up in the morning as every other day, inhale and pull the covers back. I will step from my bed and feel the soft, warm carpet on my naked feet. The sun will be somewhere overhead and the birches in my front lawn will still touch the... Read More

  • Meandering With The Mind

    February 6, 2003

    Down the corridor of time Into the spacious halls of rhyme Where waits the morning’s golden glow And sunlight pauses here as though The binding spell, now mystery, Will soon recapture history. A landscape on the farther wall– The treasure of this aging hall– Invites my dreams to visit hence, To leap across the golden... Read More

  • On A New Leaf

    January 6, 2003

    A new leaf or an old leaf, they are all leaves; and as leaves in their due time they will curl at the edges and fall into great piles that will in turn give themselves over to the dust and the only memory of their existence will be the dark earthy scent that lingers on... Read More

  • On Her Death

    April 6, 2002

    Midnight slumber flows thick through slient room; Well-dressed, well-kept, and well-nigh destitute Of hope that spurns the weary soul to sing. Eyes, long-dry, crammed tightly against a brain That throbs and throbs as insanity beats His painful rhythym, open to behold Nothing, save the fear of reality. Fear, and an empty room where once lay... Read More

  • Renewing Wonder

    June 11, 2001

    To truly be amazed by nature, we must we willing to be both sensitive and curious. We must also become truly honest and admit that we have become unaware of the commonplace. It takes getting to the place where you can pull a leaf apart, piece by piece and revel in it; where you can... Read More

  • Midnight Watch

    April 7, 2001

    It is darkness, and I do not dare open my eyes. Pressing my lids tighter, the retinal fireworks explode and celebrate fear’s victory, while the prisoner lays quivering in his bed. Somewhere, a thousand miles away perhaps, a grandfather clock swings its long pendulum and beats each passing moment into my ears as my heart... Read More