Poetry
Lazarus Box
Here, from my box of precious things: a handful of rose petals dry and wither-burnt; a smooth stick in the shape of a perfect “y;”
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Here, from my box of precious things: a handful of rose petals dry and wither-burnt; a smooth stick in the shape of a perfect “y;”
“MR. TANNER!” an eager voice called out from behind a dense Buttonbush in its red and green glory. Mr. Tanner knew Betty’s voice as well
Through her heart, His sorrow sharing, all His bitter anguish bearing, now at length the sword has passed. I. As He Leaves the Palace of
Editors Note: We are very pleased to offer you this conversation between two fine Catholic artists. Anne Redmon, the interviewer, is a wonderful Catholic novelist
