Foreword Reviews - - Spotlight Religion Books—poetry -

At Can­ton First Bap­tist no one ever spoke of mytholo­gies or metaphor. No one in the pul­pit, huff­ing and red-faced, ever asked why the prophets had long drifted into dust and si­lence. Desert was sim­ply a wilder­ness of sand. Blood was blood wa­ter was wine, And wine (grape juice) was some­times blood. Most Sun­days my mind was some­place else en­tirely, rac­ing the engine of my father’s Im­pala, or break­ing a curve­ball over home plate, or cast­ing a lure over choir loft and or­gan, over stained-glass dis­ci­ples and net-draped fish­ing boats, strug­gling to hook a thought, to reel it to the sur­face, clean, un­tan­gled, without snag­ging the pul­pit or the back of a pew.

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