From the magazine:Text/ile II
By Mercedes Lucero
dear mary metonym of mine to
mind *mary *mari *mare *mere
Magdalene or mother not as
Abuelita dreams…
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From the magazine:Tempera at the Maria Novella Church
By Natalia Treviñomi ’buelita Socorro
woulda loved this
basilica, un homenaje
for la Virgencita, the story
of her life, her…From the magazine:The Apostle Paula
By Chris WatkinsI was riding toward Damascus
to yell at some Christians and maybe
stone a few uninhibited women
when…From the magazine:Pocket Catechism
By Li-Young LeeSay the words:
On earth
as it is in heaven.
Say the words:
Love thy neighbor
as thyself.
Say the words…From the magazine:
Road to Harissa
By Madeleine CravensMaryam drove too fast
through the mountains. Look, she said,
it’s Jesus, as we passed the figure on the hill,
but it was actually the Virgin Mary,
arms raised in benediction. The week
after Easter was called Bright Week,
and Behbod was obsessed with a line
from...- By K. IverAt my beloved’s burial,
I can’t see his body.
Only carnations. I hear
your name and my beloved’s
in the … From the magazine:
Once, While Disemboweling the Chicken
By Isabella DeSendireadying it for my lover’s dinner, I remembered
my abuela slashing the rooster’s throat. I was four.
Held the wet blade in my hand and cried. For days
the carcass hung like a cross over the red front door
until it shriveled and stunk,...- By Robert DuncanThis is the way it is. We see
three ages in one: the child Jesus
innocent of Jerusalem and Rome
- magically at home in joy -
that’s the year from which
our inner persistence has its force.
The second, Bergman shows us,
carries forward image after... - By Jupiter HammonI
O come you pious youth! adore
The wisdom of thy God,
In bringing thee from distant shore,
To learn His holy word.
Eccles. xii.
II
Thou mightst been left behind
Amidst a dark abode;
God’s tender mercy still combin’d,
Thou hast the... - By UnknownTranslated By Roy M. LiuzzaListen! I will speak of the sweetest dream,
what came to me in the middle of the night,
when speech-bearers slept in their rest.
It seemed that I saw a most wondrous tree
raised on high, wound round with light,
the brightest of beams. All... - By William LanglandIn a somer seson, whan softe was þe sonne,
I shoop me into [a] shrou[d] as I a sheep weere,
In habite as an heremite, vnholy of werkes,
Wente wide in þis world wondres to here.
Ac on a May morwenynge on Maluerne hilles
Me... - By William LanglandWolleward and weetshoed wente I forþ after
As a recchelees renk þat [reccheþ of no wo],
And yede forþ lik a lorel al my lif tyme,
Til I weex wery of þe world and wilned eft to slepe,
And lened me to a lenten,... - By William Langland‘þis were a wikkede wey but whoso hadde a gyde
þat [myȝte] folwen us ech foot’: þus þis folk hem mened.
Quod Perkyn þe Plowman, ‘By Seint Peter of Rome!
I haue an half acre to erie by þe heiȝe weye;
Hadde I eryed... - By UnknownHwæt! Ic swefna cyst secgan wylle,
hwæt me gemætte to midre nihte,
syðþan reordberend reste wunedon!
þuhte me þæt ic gesawe syllicre treow
on lyft lædan, leohte bewunden,
beama beorhtost. Eall þæt beacen wæs
begoten mid golde. Gimmas stodon
fægere æt foldan sceatum, swylce þær fife wæron
uppe... - By Richard Rolle[Alle perisches and passes pat we with eghe see]
It wanes into wrechednes, þe welth of þis worlde.
Robes and ritches rotes in dike,
Prowde payntyng slakes into sorow,
Delites and drewryse stynk sal ful sone,
Þair golde and þaire tresoure drawes þam til dede.
Al... - By CaedmonTranslated By Roy M. LiuzzaNow let us praise Heaven-Kingdom's guardian,
the Maker's might and his mind's thoughts,
the work of the glory-father—of every wonder,
eternal Lord. He established a beginning.
He first shaped for men's sons
Heaven as a roof, the holy Creator;
then middle-earth mankind's guardian,
eternal Lord, afterwards prepared
the... - By Harriet Beecher StoweLoudly sweep the winds of autumn
O'er that lone, beloved grave,
Where we laid those sunny ringlets,
When those blue eyes set like stars,
Leaving us to outer darkness.
O the longing and the aching!
O the sere deserted grave!
Let the grass turn brown upon thee,
Brown... - By Harriet Beecher StoweKnocking, knocking, ever knocking?
Who is there?
'Tis a pilgrim, strange and kingly,
Never such was seen before;—
Ah, sweet soul, for such a wonder
Undo the door.
No,—that door is hard to open;
Hinges rusty, latch is broken;
Bid Him go.
Wherefore, with that knocking dreary
Scare the sleep... - By Harriet Beecher StoweI.
MIDNIGHT.
"He hath made me to dwell in darkness as those that have been long dead."
All dark!—no light, no ray!
Sun, moon, and stars, all gone!
Dimness of anguish!—utter void!—
Crushed, and alone!
One waste of weary pain,
One dull, unmeaning ache,
A heart too weary even... - By St. John of the CrossI.
In a dark night,
With anxious love inflamed,
O, happy lot!
Forth unobserved I went,
My house being now at rest.
II.
In darkness and in safety,
By the secret ladder, disguised,
O, happy lot!
In darkness and concealment,
My house being now at rest.
III.
In that happy night,
In secret, seen...