Writing begins, I think, with the art of noticing. One of my earliest memories is this: I am standing at the end of a peach orchard in Farmington, New Mexico, in which my parents have cleared spaces to make a trailer park. Many of the trailers sit on blocks because...
About two months ago I sat at a restaurant with a college student who had grown up Mormon as she recounted to me her growing doubts about Mormonism. I shared that when I was an LDS college student, I also had to make some decisions about Mormonism. But things were...
I bemoan the fact that if, as often said, poetry is the “stepchild of the arts,” then Christian poetry is the stepchild most readers would like to disown. I don't blame them. But I still write poetry. Joseph and Nicodemus (John 19:38-39) What a...
