Stonework is published by Houghton College, a Christian liberal arts college located in New York’s rural Genesee Valley. Stonework seeks a diverse mix of mature and emerging voices in fellowship with the evangelical tradition. Published twice a year, the journal reflects the arts community at Houghton College where excellence in music, writing, and the visual arts has long been a distinctive.

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  • Issue 6
    Poetry by Paul Willis and Thom Satterlee. Fiction and interview with Lori Huth. Essay by James Wardwell, and student poets from Christian campuses.
  • Issue 5
    Poetry by Susanna Childress and Debra Rienstra. Fiction excerpt by Emilie Griffin. Art from Houghton's 2007 presidential inauguration and a forum on women writing.
  • Issue 4
    Matthew Roth--new poems. Diane Glancy--from One of Us and an interview. John Tatter-on gardens and poetry. The Landscapes of John Rhett. Stephen Woolsey--on the poetry of Jack Clemo. James Wardwell--on Herrick.
  • Issue 3
    Poetry by Julia Kasdorf, Robert Siegel and Sandra Duguid. Fiction by Tom Noyes. The portraits of Alieen Ortlip Shea. An anthology of Australian Poets
  • Issue 2
    Thom Satterlee - Poems from Burning Wycliff with an appreciation by David Perkins. Alison Gresik - new fiction and an interview. James Zoller - Poems from Living on the Floodplain.
  • Issue 1
    Luci Shaw — new poems with an appreciation by Eugene H. Peterson & Hugh Cook — new fiction and an interview

Wednesday, December 14, 2005

Three Poems about Flowers

By Henrik Nordbrant
Translated by Thom Satterlee

When I looked up, the rain had stopped.
The sun struck a branch with white almond bloosoms
and the glare blinded me
so that I spilled my coffee on the unanswered letters.

White flowers and black frogs
divide the spring night between themselves.

I can't sleep
and because I can't sleep
I can not sleep.

For the same reason
I can't fly either
which means
I can't bring you

the blossoming branch
before it turns green.

The moon may not shine
on your city
as it does on mine,

but now you know
how it shines here.

The light-rain of apple bloosoms
harden like tin

and flatten the garden.

After the slow years
come the fast ones.

I open a drawer
and am sorry I did.


Next: The Rain