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A Broken Heart

It wasn't a heart attack after all. And how could it be, I wondered, even as the pain grew in my chest like a succubus. I gasped for breath that I couldn't find. The air left the room and left me sprawled on the living room chair where I normally read the paper, and struggling to breathe. Thirty years of hard tennis and nearly vicious racquetball had rendered my knees bony stumps of gristle and shard, but left my heart…
John H. Timmerman
March 1, 2010
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In Search of the Great Goodness: The Poetry of Jane Kenyon

Along with others, I have grown weary of the term postmodern as the blanket characteristic covering our time. The term simply carries along too much baggage, and each bag opens, as a postmodernist would say, on different meanings for different audiences. From spiritual and ethical positionings, from ways of perceiving the world, and from ways of holding all human products up to critical scrutiny, analysis, or distortion, postmodernism has settled like a dense fogbank on the scholarly imagination. One of…
John H. Timmerman
May 16, 2003