It was Hitler who wrote laws about hatred, laws for the venom that rose up in his throat. We should not write hate laws. We should not...

There comes a ripening to a word, to a thought, like raspberries along the roadside. First they’re hard and green, hidden among green...

WHAT IF What if man had created the world? Would all the pine trees be isosceles triangles, would autumn leaves turn only red or yellow,...

ONCE We Were Wild Wacky Wickedly Wonderful Wounding Weeping Weren’t We

PUDDLE One rainy day, drawn to rippling trees and undulating clouds beneath, I fell into the sky.

CHALLENGER A nation mourns dead we do not know and wonders why such sorrow settles in our bones. The tears are not so much for families...

SECOND CHOICE After forty-two years in this same house my folks are pulling up stakes and moving on. When the time comes, Mother says,...

Will To Bend Knees let us bend and straighten, serve us to stoop, to reach, to play, to kneel, to tend to smaller things. My old knees,...

My yellow kayak silently slices the surface of the morning lake. Autumn shoulders into the northwoods smelling of rotting compost, wet...

I have no other name for her but Mother, this stranger before me slumped in her wheelchair white hair frowsy around her head. My mother...

At night the owl, eyes focused, ears fixing, descends on silent wings to carry off rabbit, vole, snake, claws in their backs, beak...

"Hate can be a deeply stimulating emotion. The world becomes much easier to understand and much less terrifying if you divide everything...

ANXIOUS PEOPLE This is a story about the frailties of human beings. The man behind the the story, pulling the strings, is Fredrik...

There comes a ripeness to a word, to a thought, like raspberries growing beside the road. Raspberries hang on their stems, first green...

TWILIGHT OF DEMOCRACY by Anne Applebaum The subtitle of Anne Applebaum’s book, the seductive lure of authoritarianism, suggests that the...

BECOMING DUCHESS GOLDBLATT by Anonymous The anonymous narrator of this memoir has had great losses—her divorce, the death of her beloved...

Who would have thought when man flew he would not move his arms, but it would be his mind that quivered and took flight?

I am old, Little Red Fawn, but my heart will not be stilled. When I was young I chewed clouds of dust from the horses of the hunter and...

Occupying my thoughts for several years are two basic ideas. One is that all beings are equal because when we are born we have the equal...

If I must imagine a god, it is a hand that first rolled the dice.