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In this episode of the poetry edition of the Reformed Journal Podcast, Rose Postma interviews Paul J. Willis about his poem “Setting Flagstones.” Paul is
First I place them in a line atop a narrowpath along the side of the house. That path grows muddy in winter,and the stones will
This morning, two scrub jays in a scrub oaklook out over the canyon. The oak is dead,enlivened only by gray-green lichencoating the remnants of its
(Ribes sanguineum) Back in 1825, David Douglaspacked your kin on a ship to London,where sales of their seeds alonerepaid the cost of his expedition. That
From the very top of Grey Butte,the peaks and canyons of Yosemiteflash around us as they do. But above, in an ocean of deep-blue sky,four-five-six
Eucalyptus bendingsouthward, angledby sundowner winds, you pointover the top of lastDecember’s spot fire, saying,I just knewthis would happen. Photo by Ghiffari Haris on Unsplash
Burn Victims by Paul Willis The oak trees by the creek are sweating blood. There where the fire passed through, pressed by the wind, their
Paul Jonathan Willis after Charles Harper Webb As in the Apostle Paul, of course– a big name, though the word means little. I’ve always found
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