O Woodchuck, My Woodchuck!

With some birthday money, I picked up a copy of Christian Wiman’s most recent collection, Every Riven Thing. The thing I like most about his writing is the even dispersal of energy throughout his poems. Every line is capably load-bearing. Punch one in the gut as hard as you can when it […]

Still A Child

November 5, 2008

Somehow it has taken me
until today
to understand, as
the sun cupped my face
in its warm hands, the wind
turned back the corner
of a leafy blanket,
and a dove lulled the afternoon
with a song that
in thirty-eight years
has never made me mourn,
I am still a child; I am
larger than nothing.

Nearly four years later, and appropriate to the […]

Movies, Art, and The Hunger Games

I am involved in an intermittent but (likely) ongoing conversation with a friend about the im/possibility of the movie medium qualifying as art. He says no; I still wonder. His objections seem to follow those advanced by Roger Scruton in An Intelligent Person’s Guide to Modern Culture, especially the chapter entitled “Surface and Surfeit,” which […]