Category: Prose

A Very Catholic Reformation

By | John Samuel Tieman, Prose

      I am a Roman Catholic.   I was not surprised last month when I read of yet another pedophile priest.   Nor was I surprised by the cover-up.   But I was shocked to hear that two boys, ten and fourteen, were administered a solemn oath, on peril of their immortal souls, not to reveal that they were …

Outward Bound in the Wilderness of the Mind

By | Elizabeth Kirschner, Prose

We’ve all been riveted by survival stories—those who survive shipwrecks, live on berries in the woods, withstand Artic cold for days on end. In this way we learn that the human capacity to survive extreme circumstances is quite large. Some, perhaps many, have gone on Outward Bound journeys, been solo, recorded the rigors in journals …

On Humility: A Commentary

By | John Samuel Tieman, Prose

I read the other day about the famous duel between Alexander Hamilton and Aaron Burr, the duel in which Hamilton was mortally wounded and Burr politically ruined. This tragedy is a bit of a mystery.   No one can say why, at some point, they didn’t withdraw from the duel.   But I have a good guess. …

Standardized Testing in High Schools

By | Prose, Publius

I’m having to give a standardized test over material none of us have covered.   The test is over the Middle Ages and the Renaissance, and I’ve just covered Caesar Augustus.   What makes me sad — or one thing that makes me sad — is Miss Willis. One kid says, “You hate this as much as we …

Wide and Deep

By | Poetics, Prose, Susan Kelly-DeWitt

One of the great things about being a blogger is that you can shine a little light on work you admire. Today I’m going to direct a fat beam on two very different poets, John Rybicki and Louie Skipper. Rybicki’s poetry is new to me but I have followed Skipper’s work for a number of …

The Kindercoffin

By | Elizabeth Kirschner, Prose

The kindercoffin instead of kindergarten. The kindercoffin I lived in throughout my childhood. A white coffin like the walls if my bedroom. A place to hide in as hiding was the utmost necessary thing to do. I hid under the bed, in the closet and the crawlspace in the cellar where I read, by flashlight, …

Elle `Ecrit `A Pied

By | Elizabeth Kirschner, Prose

We all know of Plein Air and here in Kittery Point, ME, one sees painters at work in the summer with easels planted by the sea, Chauncy Creek, in the Rachel Carson Woods, in fields and by salt water marshes. Less visible are its poets of which I am one. Roughly translated, elle e`ecrit a …

A Commentary

By | John Samuel Tieman, Prose

I read the other day about the famous duel between Alexander Hamilton and Aaron Burr, the duel in which Hamilton was mortally wounded and Burr politically ruined. This tragedy is a bit of a mystery.   No one can say why, at some point, they didn’t withdraw from the duel.   But I have a good guess. …