The Sacred And The Profane
Shall we throw Hustler and the Times into the fire? And, years from now, when these words and this argument are forgotten, shall we make into a funeral pyre the “spiritual” tracts we now so revere, those that spell out for us the right way, when we’re all heading the same way?
The Christ Of The Double-Wides
It was during the Christmas season that reports started to circulate about a cross that was appearing in the bathroom of a mobile home owned by Mr. and Mrs. Frank Harley.
Poet Of The Ordinary: Paul Goodman Remembered
I have made this essay personal because I find I cannot be objective about Paul Goodman. I have never fully understood what it is about the man that has so compelled me, what held in my mind the memory of those few days I saw him, what kept me searching through his works until I found access to them.
This Season’s People
You want your reality just loose enough that you can do a little miracle now and then. But not so loose that it starts getting chancy and problematical for the kids and the folks out on the fringes. It has to be good and solid for everybody.
Natural Birth Control, Natural Birth
Book Reviews: A Cooperative Method Of Natural Birth Control And Spiritual Midwifery
I wish I had read this book before giving birth to our daughter, Mara, at home, not because of the many “amazing birthing tales” (I had previously read numerous accounts of homebirths), but because of the attitudes toward labor and delivery expressed in them.
The Total FM Guide
Would you use a $15,000 Porsche just to haul groceries? Then why would you use your FM tuner or stereo receiver just to get a few local stations? If your answer is “because that’s all I can get,” you’re wrong. You can get more. Lots more. Would you believe well over 100 different stations? It’s true.
Sporadic E, Or How To Spend More Time Watching Television
No, Sporadic E is not Elvin Hayes in the playoffs (that’s a basketball joke, nonsports fans). It’s something strange that happens high in the sky, like depleting ozone.
Eight years ago I decided to become a vegetarian. This decision corresponded roughly with a hazily conceptual political activism and very clearly with an infatuation with a male vegetarian. Since then . . . concern for my diet has moved from the realm of “proof of lifestyle” to a central place in my efforts toward well being.
Tomatoes: Who Stole The Taste?
The “fresh” tomatoes we buy in the supermarkets are picked while they are still green and firm — and then taken to be gassed. (The industry prefers to call this “de-greening.”)
Mike Rigsby, whose poems we’ve published before, asked me to say something about his new book, Shotgun Vision.