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I’ve watched fear bloom in my heart like a Venus flytrap, snapping at any beautiful thing that dares to flutter too close. And I’ve decided: this joy thing is not child’s play. Joy too can be an act of resistance, as many people before me have observed. 

Not too long ago, I took two semesters of poetry workshops under Dr. Robert A. Fink. Each week, every student in the class was given a stack of p...

The following poem was written specifically for the Summer 2019 issue of Cultivating and first published there in June 2019. The enchanting photo...

All the beauty in the world is no compensation for the ending of love, Edna St. Vincent Millay argues in her brief and bitter poem, "Spring," Yes, ...

This year, I spent Christmas in the Dallas Fort Worth metroplex and in all honesty, it was hard. It was sweet that Alex and I finally got to spend ...

When I was twelve, I had the opportunity to spend an afternoon in the legendary bookshops of the Welsh town of Hay-on-Wye. For £5, I purchased an a...

"...unruffled, sure, by the laws of their faith not logic, they opened their wingssoftly and steppedover every dark thing."           (Mary Oliver...

I’m not in Ireland today, but the grey sky in West Texas has been pouring steady water for over twenty-four hours. When I went running down the flo...

I learned to love Jesus at Christmas-time. I mean the kind of loving where your heart dances right over some of its beats. Where you become the sor...

So the rubber band that you wear to make you stop speaking useless words? – I can’t keep it on the same wrist for half an hour. I always wondered a...

While I'm adjusting to a new schedule and a new city, and all out of time, here are some words by someone else, that underscore the music in the w...

EDMUND VOTES YES       [after Prince Caspian]She said it in three words, “Look, look, look!The mane and the golden fur!Over the gorge on the mounta...