Writing

The Lake of Fire

by

For much of my childhood I avoided the book of Revelation. Its apocalyptic message, fraught with fire and death, frightened me. I could find…

Pavement

by

The sun beats down on the black ground all around me; the acrid smell of hot asphalt fills my nostrils as I make my…

Winter’s Rise

by

The endless dark green ribbon glides by, ruffled gently by the occasional gust of winter as it rushes its way up the river under…

Guts, Blasphemy, and Humble Pie

by

If you are feeling the need to have an elevated sense of personal importance today, this is not the column for you. Just stop now. This is an article about why you aren’t so special. Still reading? You’re the worst. Just kidding. Sort of.

Hemlocks in the Furrows

by

Judgment springs up like hemlock in the furrows of the field – Hosea 10:4 Save Our Hemlocks!  Save Kentucky’s Hemlocks! Save Georgia’s Hemlocks!  Pages…

Poem for Bob Dog

by

Old dog, old dog I remember you when you were a playful pup. Though you were all Retriever I made you sled dog, pulling…