A Mormon literary backcountry where words and place come together.

 

 

 

 

Archive for September, 2011

WIZ announcements, perhaps of interest

Thursday, September 29th, 2011

WIZ readers and writers: Remember that the deadline for Torrey House Press’s Creative Literary Nonfiction Contest (2,000-10,000 words) is midnight, September 30th.  First Prize: $1000.  Second Prize: $250.  Third Prize: $100.  There’s a $25 entry fee.
Torrey House is offering a special arrangement for entrants who can present “reasonable evidence” that they’ve bought Torrey House’s first [...]

Confluence by Paul Swenson

Thursday, September 22nd, 2011

Strange vibrations, east of coal country.
Black sky, dusted by filmy cirro-nebula.
Rumbling on a trestle, high above the Green,
train whistles legend’s high, lonesome sound.
Highest water in a decade, but river’s
calmed tonight, lapping in a little cove.
Noses streaked with sunblock, bodies
with Skin-so-Soft, hair silted with residue
of a day on the water, we’re children
on the verge of adolescence, [...]

Alone in the Desert by Paul Swenson

Wednesday, September 21st, 2011

On her closet floor, what
looks like a dried flower—
arrayed in a display of faded
glory (tendrils splayed
to welcome her)—plays
tricks on the eye. Can’t
say what stops her
from picking it up. But
living alone in the desert,
under an endless sky,
gives even a dead tarantula
a florid allure. And out
the back door of her Virgin
hideaway, the iris
(orange, green and brown
growths)—lovely or [...]

White Fire by Paul Swenson

Tuesday, September 20th, 2011

After the electrical storm
rattles the windows
and spikes the sky ocher
and I go out in the dark
to douse the garden hose
superfluously watering the roses
a shock
to be blinded
by moon
full in the face
in the closed corridor
at the side of my house
and it is clear to me
like cool white fire
the you I know
still glows
in dark somewhere
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To read Paul Swenson’s [...]

Degrees of Separation by Paul Swenson

Monday, September 19th, 2011

Do the dead know when we speak of them?
Cell phone to my ear, I hear Alex say, “Yes,
every time we say their names—it is like food
to them.” I’m in Liberty Park, watching
a gray squirrel negotiate the irregular bark
of a broad, green locust tree. “You
know,” he says to me. “I didn’t think
to mention this before, because [...]