I first tried my hand at liturgical writing when I was living in Chicago and part of Western Springs Christian Reformed Church. The worship of this body of believers was truly my first introduction to responsive written prayers, scripturally-rich orders … read full post
swimming lessons
(written in summer 2016)
It’s about 4:30 in the afternoon, and the sand piled on the concrete patio is crumbling like brown sugar against the plastic bucket of a tiny yellow bulldozer. The bulldozer beep-beeps its steady way back to … read full post
neon boys
I see them:
alive and electric like the air,
pinwheel boys revolving,
perched on flimsy plastic sticks,
crushed into the midway dust by clowns
and fools and cliques alongside tacky
blood-striped cones.
A broken echo, silenced sob,
and they lose … read full post
five thousand
The lake is a glass dish
and the sky rests in it,
flushed and warm
like fresh-baked bread,
pillowy and dusted flour-white.
I lay back into it,
the hum in my ears
drowning out the static in my brain,
slowing … read full post
baling
The bales
are plump and fragrant
on the back of the field,
like just-baked jelly rolls
or chubby baby cheeks.
I bury my nose in
the air and inhale,
and plant a kiss
on the cheek of the earth,
who, … read full post
solace | summer playlist
Summer has always felt like freedom to me.
It’s the extravagant amount of light we get from dawn to dusk. It’s watermelon and fresh tomatoes and sweet corn. It’s no school and no responsibilities. It’s releasing my shockingly pale legs … read full post
what I learned from self-publishing
It’s been a minute (i.e. half a year to almost the day) since I published SOLACE: POEMS FOR THE BROKEN SEASON.Â
In reflection on that event, and now that the act of publishing is sufficiently in the rearview mirror, I … read full post
daycrown
The vase of lilacs set upon
the dining room table,
like a jewel in the day’s crown,
smiles upon each of us
gathered round it,
lords and ladies of the court
feasting in its presence.
Placed as it is
upon … read full post
“I would not have been a poet” (Wendell Berry)
(from This Day: Sabbath Poems, 1994: VII)
I would not have been a poet
except that I have been in love
alive in this mortal world,
or an essayist except that I
have been bewildered and afraid,
or a storyteller … read full post
doubting thomas (morning & evening prayers)
(The following prayers are excerpted from an upcoming collaborative project led by Brennen Daniels and featuring words by him, Emily Steffen and myself, Wrestle Collective (vol 1 // help our unbelief). Get your copy here, and follow along on … read full post