Stonework is published by Houghton College, a Christian liberal arts college located in New York’s rural Genesee Valley. Stonework seeks a diverse mix of mature and emerging voices in fellowship with the evangelical tradition. Published twice a year, the journal reflects the arts community at Houghton College where excellence in music, writing, and the visual arts has long been a distinctive.

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  • Issue 6
    Poetry by Paul Willis and Thom Satterlee. Fiction and interview with Lori Huth. Essay by James Wardwell, and student poets from Christian campuses.
  • Issue 5
    Poetry by Susanna Childress and Debra Rienstra. Fiction excerpt by Emilie Griffin. Art from Houghton's 2007 presidential inauguration and a forum on women writing.
  • Issue 4
    Matthew Roth--new poems. Diane Glancy--from One of Us and an interview. John Tatter-on gardens and poetry. The Landscapes of John Rhett. Stephen Woolsey--on the poetry of Jack Clemo. James Wardwell--on Herrick.
  • Issue 3
    Poetry by Julia Kasdorf, Robert Siegel and Sandra Duguid. Fiction by Tom Noyes. The portraits of Alieen Ortlip Shea. An anthology of Australian Poets
  • Issue 2
    Thom Satterlee - Poems from Burning Wycliff with an appreciation by David Perkins. Alison Gresik - new fiction and an interview. James Zoller - Poems from Living on the Floodplain.
  • Issue 1
    Luci Shaw — new poems with an appreciation by Eugene H. Peterson & Hugh Cook — new fiction and an interview

Monday, May 08, 2006

This Most Obvious of Things

James Zoller

I am looking, as I leave, for a way
to say I love you, this most obvious of things.

It is mid-October, and I drive through valleys,
alone, beneath blue sky both bright and unbroken,

driving distractedly, despite my intentions,
slowed every mile by hillside after hillside

of brilliant red leaves, of vivid orange,
leaves of shimmering gold against evergreen

as if the unpatterned pattern lay like sky
unbroken, the impression of seamless difference

tugging the eyes like water eddying over stones
tugs the ear, thrilling the heart

until breathing is labored and hours
have passed without notice, slipping, gone.

Soon it will be dusk, then dark,
the texture of hillsides gone in darkness,

the fabric, the folds of color gone black
as my destination draws nearer.

For a moment the straight western sun, burning
in the treetops, strikes west-facing slopes opposite

setting reds aflame, burnishing gold
until it nearly blinds, warming orange and brown,

this whole world filled, unspeakably, with fire.
And I, unsentimental man that I am,

I, who have been looking for a way, I
who have wanted words for love, for you,

who have felt, now, my heart opened
and opening, who would bring you here with me,

I, who would say this is what love
must mean, who would say foolish things, I

find myself doubly at a loss,
having seen heaven, alone.


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