Early in the morning deer appear
out of the dark, a flicker of eyes.
They allow me to get quite near,
then vanish noiseless in the brush—
like stars over a busy city—
like lines that come in midnight’s hush
and are gone at dawn—like a whirlwind that scoops
up trash from a parking lot, vivifies it
briefly in a marionette dance, then drops—
like the presence of God: undeniably there,
then absent beyond any utterable prayer.
— Jeffrey Bilbro
Who Killed the Clancy Children?
After a Massachusetts jury failed to convict Lindsay Clancy of strangling her three small children to death…
A Terrible Coarsening
The now-ubiquitous terms “reproductive health” and “reproductive freedom” have contributed mightily to a slaughter of the innocents…
The Stench of Corruption
The Trump family’s exploitation of every opportunity to enrich themselves demoralizes me, as I’m sure it does…