#lrgrad

Chiggers infest my shoulders. Poison ivy bumps lie dormant like volcanoes threatening to burst-break open lava fields of radiant rash. Bruise-dents in knuckles from slipping off wrenches. Been putting work in.

And like writing. My hands show it.

Callused fingers grip lovingly around a sharp liquid filled pen. Cage of blue bars with letters hooked like fingers through the chain-link notebook of…

Write your own worst critic

Select a passage and reflect upon it as a reader.

from Forever-Open: “Churches are vessels for memories. God, not so regularly. You get to the afterlife looking for a house of worship, you’ll probably be handed a hammer and nails. We have no evidence whatsoever to believe a divine current running throughout the universe has much if any interest in our buildings.”

Wherever this magically misplaced…

Once I was a week’s vacation for a church janitor. On paper, the position is called sexton. But in truth, I cleaned bathrooms. Lots of other work too. Dusting under stained glass windows. Polishing hundred year old timber. Lightly mopping myself out of the sanctuary. I took the trash. The church was massive and historic. Built in the late eighteen hundreds. Episcopalian. On paper, high church.…