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Archive for May, 2008

The relationship between ten-year-old reptile enthusiast, Aleth, and her scheming guardian, Hannadrasp, becomes dangerous when Hannadrasp tricks Aleth into stirring up a Dragon. Unaware of Hannadrasp’s secret purpose, Aleth tries to atone for the destruction her mistake has loosed upon the town of Mirrogarden.


 
On the eve of her tenth birthday, Aleth is lizard-hunting with her friend Werner when a [...]

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Below is the ninth and final poem in the Holly Brightweed cycle.
I have a steady, heady lust for light.
I breathe (what time of day
the light goes gray)
sharp sheen of coming night;
Drink the whitened brilliance
in which late-night shoppers swim,
and chase those glows that kindle dim
through Juney velvet fields their bobbing dance.
Wild for moon, I will
wait in a wintry [...]

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Thought I’d take another stab at this by way of rewriting an old post, and further decided to paste it here as well. This essay is not at all authoritative or even technical; my desire is to be able to explain to people how I, as someone raised anti-Catholic, was able to embrace a faith [...]

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a guest essay by my inimitable husband, Scottie; who always surprises
Introduction: The Terminator
The thesis of the three Terminator films (and countless other sci-fi flicks) is the evolution of machines into autonomous beings who calculate that humanity is in need of destruction. It’s hard to forget the frightful scenario of the film: Arnold Schwarzenegger as a human-cyborg Terminator relentlessly [...]

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Ah, yes. Potty training, toils and travails of. A subject that has no interest whatever for most, but which parents of young children can’t seem to stop talking about.
I’m in quite the situation, myself. My boy is not even two years old yet – not till September – but in certain ways he is very [...]

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Holly Brightweed and her willing beau
unspeaking wandered on the shaggy ridge
that topped her father’s strip of land
much like the tooth-torn cartilage
of a dog’s well-loved and well-gnawed bone.
For feathered weeds, mostly dead,
were mashed and crashed
through hollow and head -
all colorless, or brown, or sickly green.
Holly said it was the scene
she found the saddest all year round.
“Spring [...]

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Holly: what a white-souled, grey-faced child.
Her feet shrink in this snow,
Her head hangs down beneath this heavy sky…
Oh that I knew why.
Richard: not distinguished, wealthy, wild,
Not anything I know.
Yet warmly does he speak to me – he makes
Of me his human kin.
Stooped in bluish pools of grief-bruised skin
Her eyes that once were suns
So feebly and so [...]

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