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Old white oak, are you better-looking in the winter? Your rounded crown is tufted pale-green gray with lichen.
Paul J. Willis
May 3, 2022

Burn Victims

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 barks are blackened, and oozing through the singe, red beads of sap drip sorrowingly down to ashes. If we knew Gethsemane were not a garden anymore and wept itself, the knotty foreheads of each burl contracted in one brow of woe, our prayer would not be for life's cup but merely that our hearts might…
Paul J. Willis
April 1, 2010

POETRY by Paul Willis

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 it hard to pronounce, hard to fit that l on the end, as if it were the paw of a cat that couldn't scratch her signature. But evangelicals like Paul better than they like Jesus, given the fact that Jesus told confusing stories but Paul excelled in the prototype of the three-point sermon. I am…
Paul J. Willis
November 16, 2006