by Amanda C. R. Clark with Sophia Du Val Halcyon Panacea hal·cy·on| ˈhalsēən | adjective denoting a period of time in the past that was idyllically happy and peaceful pan·a·ce·a| ˌpanəˈsēə | noun a solution or remedy for all difficulties or
by Sara Whitestone In a small Virginia town I mistakenly make an illegal U-turn. A police officer immediately pulls me over. I immediately start crying.
by Sara Whitestone January 21 “Well, Mom, it’s been 14 days, and Zhi and I have no symptoms,” my daughter tells me over the phone.
by Liz Backstrom There ought to be behind the door of every happy, contented man someone standing with a hammer, continually reminding him with a
by Emily Hanson Every issue of Rock & Sling witnesses to a myriad of different ideas, feelings, and actions and each piece does so in
by Jessica Dundas The label “Christian Fiction” tends to turn me off. I expect another cleaned up, simplified version of life, where they always get
I’ve been blessed to work with a stable lineup of genre editors since I took over as editor-in-chief of Rock & Sling in 2010. We’ve
by Margaret Rozga As a person who has long been active in social and racial justice movements, my goal as a poet is to create
In the same way, if I spend so much energy and effort trying to create music or art or poetry that is meaningful, or beautiful, shot-through with light, grace, insight, and love, how can that not spill over into working for these things in the larger world?
by Katherine Karr-Cornejo The phases of my life have offered many opportunities and challenges, and when I think of my years in graduate school, I
Eventually, life happens to everyone – it is the great equalizer. Someday, you might be in the position to not contribute anything.
Being a parent is hard. We never have it all figured out, even when we’ve done it well in the past.
Every time I prayed, a gentle, insistent sense arose in me – Do this…You can do this…I want you to do this – the same sense that had been prodding me during the past six months as my husband and I discussed fostering a child and researched the process, and I, initially resistant to the idea, had begun praying about it.
We are stripping our house layer by layer, occasionally stopping to wonder out loud if it feels like we’re trying to erase her and purify this space. Our mother is in every facet of the house; she picked the colors, sewed the curtains herself (one handed, no less), and embroidered half of the wall decorations.
When we reach out in words, where we’re safe, we prepare to cross a boundary with respect at our next opportunity. We prepare to offer the comfort we weren’t able or brave enough to offer when our last chance arose.
Bookworms and publishing nerds at AWP often feel like Christmas came again in the spring. You enter a magical wonderland with all of your favorite literary paraphernalia, and you go home loaded with gifts (for others, or for yourself).
AWP isn’t the frenetic overwhelming thing it once was. No longer do I stand paralyzed, unable to take everything in or even figure out where to begin.
hese poems are my way of honoring the mysteries of the natural world—weather, geology, our human impermanence—using metaphor and image, rhythm and form to understand our roles in such an intricate system.
What can I offer them? What can I write to them when their fears and questions—along with mine—are so loud in our ears?
What haunts my waking dreams is the library; a sacred space, richly textured with human spines and book spines, crinkly papers, and dusty tomes. How do I make these perennial objects of desire—those recorded and those we wish to find—new to those who do not see the library as I see it?
As we move toward the reality of Donald Trump’s pending presidency, artists are responding. Rock & Sling wants to produce a cross-section of that work,
by Andy Zell I forget how I won the gift certificate to the local Christian bookstore. Perhaps it was good grades or perfect attendance in
by Karissa Knox Sorrell A couple of months ago, I went to a funeral. It was for a woman named Joyce whose husband had been
by Karissa Knox Sorrell When I write, I turn my back to the saints. We moved into a new home in August. With our home
by Andy Zell As I write this, we are expecting our fourth child in a matter of days. A few days before the birth
by Jenn Rudsit A book fair full of indie presses, literary journals, MFA programs, and tables covered in piles upon piles of books: paradise. Mingling
By Joshua Tuttle My second AWP was even better than my first. Last year I was extremely nervous to explain what “a journal of witness”
by Lauren Klepinger As the end of spring break loomed nearer, I couldn’t help but wonder how I would survive the next week. I’d spent
The artist for issue 10.2 is Heather Gwinn. In a contemporary version of an old story, we stumbled across her work accidentally. One of our
From issue 10.2, on shelves next week, is Katie Manning. For the past three years, my primary writing project has been a collection of poems
Instead of simple biographical material, at the end of every issue, we ask our contributor’s to reflect on the connections they see between their faith
our final nominee, from issue 10.2 Lecture on Creation So here we gather and no one’s dead although we all will be and soon, and
our fourth nominee, from issue 10.2 On Apophasis and a Bee A buttered roll and a dinner bee are not in this line.
our fifth nominee, from issue 10.2
our third nominee, from issue 10.2 The Sack People The sack people are at it again, singing on the corner about his pleasing light, oh
our second nominee, from issue 10.1 Seven Lessons from the Book of Sharks Before mountains rose from the ocean so clouds had somewhere to arrive,
our first nominee, from issue 10.1: In Eastern Medicine milk is an extension of blood which we suckle with the tiny gulping mouth of heart.
Stop and see us at table P24 in the bookfair. Freebie broadsides, poetry singles, buttons, back issues, and more. Plus t-shirts and issue 9.1, featuring
by Jeremiah Webster If Madame Sosostris shuffled her “wicked pack of cards” today, would there be the hanged man, the “lady of situations,” the great
With delivery scheduled for Monday, here’s another look into the coming issue. Artist’s statement by Emelie Ånskog How I breathe I was in London and
7.2 is almost ready to ship, so here are some glimpses into the issue. Subscribers will have it in hand by the end of the
Jeremiah Webster In 1858, Heinrich Schliemann (retired at thirty-six after success as a military contractor) set out to discover the walls of Troy that he
Joshua Robbins For Week 1 of the Extreme Writing Makeover, the key is to select a piece from your back catalog that needs to be
Joshua Robbins I think it was a Monday last month that the road leading to our street was overtaken by flatbed semis hauling shipping containers,
featuring work from: Tara Ballard Michele Burkey Jackson Culpepper Kristin George Michael Gray Matthew E. Henry Adam Hughes Jeremy B. Jones Laurie Klein Alyse Knorr
Kathryn Smith What does it mean, in the year 2011, in an urban setting, to prepare the way of the Lord? What if a neighbor’s
Kathryn Smith What struck me about today’s gospel—in addition to the ominous imagery—is that notion that the Lord’s coming will surely happen at night. So
Joshua Robbins As we enter Advent’s home stretch, I’ve found myself wishing the season’s anticipation would feel…well, more sublime. But, then again, I wonder if
Kristina Pfleegor Jeremiah 31:21 A little girl climbing a tree falls on her back, lungs jarred. The sky is a darting school of minnows. The
Laurie Lamon *Editor’s note: Our second Pushcart Prize nomination goes to Cathy Bobb, who had two poems in issue 6.1 (~thom). Cathy Bobb is a
Jeremiah Webster – noun ( /ˌænəɡˈnɒrɨsɨs/; Ancient Greek: ἀναγνώρισις) the moment in a play or other work when a character makes a critical discovery. “What is
The Occupy Wall Street mentality is nothing new. Brian C. Baer I was lucky enough to catch a screening of John Carpenter’s cult classic They
Jeremiah Webster Last year I drove a friend from out of town (Midwest kindred sort) along a road that ran parallel with the Cascade Mountain
by Jeremiah Webster My two year old son has a Radio Flyer scooter: classic red with streamers that blow in the breeze with near-patriotic flair.
Ben Everett Music. Music is bound within a web of outside influences which brand themselves onto each song we listen to. In essence, music is
For the believer, according to Westphal, ambivalence begins with the awakening to the ontological poverty of the believing soul. The realization is expressed in phrases
by Sarah Glady See. You’re 16. You live in Phoenix. And you’re in love with lighters. Well, more or less. All your friends are lighting
We ask our contributing authors to consider the role of faith in their work, or in the pieces in our issue. It adds some depth
by Liv Larson Andrews for Patty, with love and groaning Wendell Berry argues that only when we begin to do the necessary things for each
This piece is published in our 6.2 journal released this summer. Psalm 148 Praise the Lord a clowder from heaven of cats Praise the
I am—and I will tell you right now that this is a terrible way to be and I’m sorry and I will promise to try
by Jacquelyn Wheeler In a sermon series about spiritual revival, John Mark Comer preached a sermon called, “Born After Midnight,” in which he asserted that
by Pax Gutierrez-Neal Hebrew apocrypha contains the legend of Lilith, the first wife of Adam. She, like Adam, was created from dust and clay. In
by Claire LePage, Lauren Rush, & Caitlin Wheeler Number of Blasphemous Jokes We Made: 5 Number of Octopi Sighted: 6 Number of International Foods Eaten:
We ask our contributing authors to consider the role of faith in their work, or in the pieces in our issue. It adds some depth
Artwork Gala Bent Poems Shannon Amidon \ Psalm Ray Amorosi \ Two Poems Janet Barry \ Two Poems Cathy Bobb \ Two Poems Beth Cooley
By Steve Doughty People waiting for the plane to arrive weren’t that crowded, so there was no need for the two of them to press
by Claire LePage I watched Kill Bill while waiting for my grandpa to die last week. I wanted to watch A River Runs Through It,
by Sarah Wells Jesus is dancing like no one is watching his partner. He smiles and twirls a girl in a satiny top and high
We are still looking for poetry, fiction, and essays, you writers out there. We have ten days of reading left for the winter issue, so
