Masonry F/Width Blog

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1920 1280 Elizabeth Marshall

The Backside

A hundred stories blew right by Unseen by the naked eye, a hundred and one If you count the one so wind-soaked, water-logged and beat down There is nothing left to tell Shreds of truth…

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1419 1118 Jody Lee Collins

Bright Possibilities

“’sa bizzy pace, Boppa. “ “What’s that, pal?” “’sa bizzy pace. All zeese bepo.” “All these people. That’s right, it’s a busy place, buddy.” Allan Jenkins’ eyes scanned the airport crowds, drawn to the grid…

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1920 1186 Sarah Rennicke

Hand Over My Heart

I haven’t realized just how scared I am of handing over my heart to You until the wrappers of my self-denial peel off and I delicately hold its fragile contents cupped in my palms. How…

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1920 1280 Robert Rife

Beatitudes for Troubled Times

Blessed is the one who awoke to draw breath for another day. Blessed is the one who sees him/herself in the eyes of another. Blessed is the one who appreciates the dare of morning and the…

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1920 1126 Daniel Baker

May 18, 1980

Spring sun:​ races across the plowed fields​ flows over the tall grasses​ pushes past a stand of oaks​ spills over the gully’s edge​ breaks the broad basement windows​ animates a dozen expectant faces​ and lands​…

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1920 1248 Elizabeth Marshall

Let Me Put It This Way

The fetal position was an option Always But so was one foot in front of the other If you read this, say, 50 years from now You should know There were poets Taking the pulse…

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1920 1280 Elizabeth Marshall

On New Birth

I remember. Forgetting is not an option. And if it was, I would choose to recall every fragment of the story. Remembering and forgetting sit with mystery and paint the canvas of today. The brushstrokes…

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1920 1280 Stephanie Thompson

Why I Long to Run With Abandon to My God

Arms stretched wide; a posture of surrender and vulnerability forthcoming. Not in front to push away or self protect Legs moving forward as in autopilot; I can barely feel the soles of my feet beating…

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1920 1280 Jason Ramsey

The Halls

These are halls where souls go to die. Where agony parlays grief and fluorescent beams shock minds into submission. Where clamoring “it is finished” reverberates against concrete walls and rings hollow like tin. Where remnants…

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