Tip of the tongue

as God’s temple. But they are separated from me, to begin to address the divinity with me as me - thats tip-toeing with what feels like blasphemy. Isn’t that exactly what the pharisees accused Jesus of? Scary! And, yet, I am to follow in His way. I have donse so with taking up my cross. Suffering is not the problem. Incarnating God - becoming God that a problem! Didn’t exactly roll off the tongue - or the heart! Scares me, weakens my knees. Yet it is the call. It is the vision that hs been kept…

“You need to go back to work,” Charlie said as she sat on top of the fence, observing Bass as he chopped wood out by her Grandpa’s barn. Stopping for a moment, Bass wiped his arm across his forehead before swinging the axe once again. “I do, huh?” he grunted knocking the wood out of the way before grabbing another log to split. “Uh huh. Otherwise, you’ll be joining me in la la land sooner rather than later.” “Don’t do that,” he huffed, swinging the axe again before leaving where it lay…

Valentine’s Day caused backlash from the public due to its theme. The video was accompanied by a website containing more information on the “syndrome”. Among them were testimonials from audiences, instructions to start turning vegan and play-safe tips for the girlfriends of those affected by it. Of course, the information and videos on the website were all created by PETA, as part of the campaign. OTHER CAMPAIGNS BY PETA Apart from the campaign mentioned above, it’s also important to note…

In the novel On the Road by Jack Kerouac, we follow Sal as he travels the country bouncing state to state and friend to friend following the crazy wild lifestyle of Dean Moriarty. Throughout the novel Sal and his friends indulge in sex, alcohol and drugs, and are constantly moving around contradicting the idea that in order to be happy you must find a job, a wife, have kids, and live in a nice home. During his journey we witness Sal and his gang of “mad men” counter societal norms by living life…

The line spanned street after street, it seemed. I waited for what felt like hours, watching the line ahead dwindle as the Barnes and Nobles workers funnelled us into the store, prodding the line up three flights until we reached that lone table, stacked high with bright orange books whose spines and covers read, in black matte letters, THE GLIMMER by RICHARD DUKE. I’d already read it twice now, bought three copies and lined them on the bookshelf in my shitty little apartment living room neatly,…

with barely any hesitation. “Thank you,” he mumbles through a mouthful, and swallows as soon as he can, reaching out for more. Relief floods her as Timmy eats piece after piece without complaint, and she tentatively picks up a slice herself by the tips of her two fingers. The back of her throat convulses when the meat makes contact with her lips, but she manages to open her mouth and nibble on its edge. It tastes a little bloody, and her mind screams for her to spit out the piece while her…

IT is the early winter of 2015, a cold, windy Wednesday afternoon. Two of us sit together, side by side, in soft, comfortable chairs on the second level of our home. We wear everyday clothes. I listen patiently to her ramblings. When the talking is over, I sit up in the chair, and I am officially telling her everything, the eldest child of Heather Crawford in the city of Hutto, Texas. For me, the curtain has just closed on lying. Afterward, I look up at my mom, my biggest critic, and apologize…

"Don't worry, I've got this." Kevin reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small black box. I lean over in interest, a million questions whizzing through my mind. Kevin pops open the box with a small click, and selects a tiny black rod, bent at the tip in a ninety degree angle. He sticks it into the lock, turns it slightly, then chooses another black rod, this one hooked at the end. He shoves that in the lock too, and fiddles around in the lock for a minute. I watch in fascinated delight as…

The Traveler’s Wife There is a young woman by the name of Nettie Jones that has become a frequent subject of gossip in our town. She’s a pretty little thing, with silky brown hair and warm brown eyes. Her voice is sweet and melodic, and she has a soft spoken and kind demeanor. She lives a fair distance away from the rest of the town, in a little cottage in the foothills of the mountains to the north. Every morning, she comes down from her home to go about her business in the town, buying…

Karl Beck son and Arthur Gang define the term “Synaethesia” as the intermingling of sensations; the sensing for example of certain sounds through colors or odors .(Beck son and Ganz,209) .Fogle , while amplifying Professor June E. Downey”s concept of synasthesia ,hints at the possibility of visual participation in some of the sensation clusters concerned : “ The function of all poetic imagery is to order ,relate, and unify desperate modes of physical, mental and emotional experience…