Get 20M+ Full-Text Papers For Less Than $1.50/day. Start a 14-Day Trial for You or Your Team.

Learn More →

So much light green encroaches

So much light green encroaches ATR/99.4 swarming back roads. Bicycles will be next. Every person, a late spring flower. There will be swimming pools and lemonade stands, neighbors talking outside in the evening. The truth is we never lived here (or there), not really. Bicycles were invented by Martians, the 50s. Even people, happy petals, ringing their necks: pure Hollywood. (Our ’55 Ford wagon was stinging hot inside, our eight little bodies, incubators for the world we inherited.) Walker Percy knew this. Where there is no need, there is no God. Where there is no hole, the hole becomes the 6 o’clock news. We are a cry for Him. It’s that simple, either that or a lie which offers only comfort, can’t. We are wounds. David Craig David Craig has taught creative writing at the Franciscan University of Steubenville, Ohio, for twenty-nine years. Having coedited three poetry anthologies with Janet Mc- Cann, he now edits a poetry chapbook series for the Franciscan University Press and the Jacopone da Todi Poetry Book Prize. His twenty-third book, My Favorite Rank, is forthcoming from Wipf and Stock. He lives in Weirton, West Virginia, with his family. http://www.deepdyve.com/assets/images/DeepDyve-Logo-lg.png Anglican Theological Review SAGE

So much light green encroaches

Craig, David
Anglican Theological Review , Volume 99 (4): 1 – Aug 25, 2021
Download PDF
1 page

Loading next page...
 
/lp/sage/so-much-light-green-encroaches-ToV7w1yRnq
Publisher
SAGE
Copyright
© 2017 Anglican Theological Review Corporation
ISSN
0003-3286
eISSN
2163-6214
DOI
10.1177/000332861709900414
Publisher site
See Article on Publisher Site

Abstract

ATR/99.4 swarming back roads. Bicycles will be next. Every person, a late spring flower. There will be swimming pools and lemonade stands, neighbors talking outside in the evening. The truth is we never lived here (or there), not really. Bicycles were invented by Martians, the 50s. Even people, happy petals, ringing their necks: pure Hollywood. (Our ’55 Ford wagon was stinging hot inside, our eight little bodies, incubators for the world we inherited.) Walker Percy knew this. Where there is no need, there is no God. Where there is no hole, the hole becomes the 6 o’clock news. We are a cry for Him. It’s that simple, either that or a lie which offers only comfort, can’t. We are wounds. David Craig David Craig has taught creative writing at the Franciscan University of Steubenville, Ohio, for twenty-nine years. Having coedited three poetry anthologies with Janet Mc- Cann, he now edits a poetry chapbook series for the Franciscan University Press and the Jacopone da Todi Poetry Book Prize. His twenty-third book, My Favorite Rank, is forthcoming from Wipf and Stock. He lives in Weirton, West Virginia, with his family.

Journal

Anglican Theological Review – SAGE

Published: Aug 25, 2021

There are no references for this article.