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Last
Poetry
Jennifer Merri Parker: The Music Lesson, Resentful of Necessity, St. Alphonsus on a Weekday Noon
Brett Foster: Late at Night When I Consider You Sleeping
John Savoie: Willow
Lauren Schmidt: The Unseasoned Earth
Richard Osler: Easter
Kory Wells: Christian Education
Sarah Hinlicky Wilson: Shades of Gray
John Dreyer: Goose Summer
Katherine E. Schneider: Lantern
Mary Marie Dixon: Gone Broody
Fiction
Art
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My husband and I are helping our five-year-old son learn to read. We try; we really do. Night after night and sometimes, I admit, mornings before Dad takes him to school, we sit at the kitchen table attempting with superhuman patience to teach him to read. Sentences like “I like apples. They are red.” Books called Bill Goes to School or Hot Dog. He is distracted and visibly frustrated page one into the book. Often feigning illness and even claiming his brain has stopped working, he now looks upon our much-loved reading time with disdain.
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Read more... [Editor's Note]
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Dan McGregor: Sacramental Engines
My recent work consists of what I call “sacramental engines”—painted mechanical contraptions that are intended to represent invisible spiritual forces. Resurrection has been a big theme for me of late.
Bloodwheel taps into ancient traditions dealing with the legend
of martyrs Erasmus and Catherine of Alexandria, as the torments of both
involved wheels—Catherine being assailed by a spiked wheel and Erasmus
having his intestines wrapped around a ship’s windlass. Exploring the
Tertullian quote that “The blood of the martyrs is the seed of the
church,” I decided to combine this concept of wheel as torture
instrument with the generally positive and motive concept of a
waterwheel.
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Read more... [Artist's Note]
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RUMINATE’S 2009 SHORT STORY PRIZE
Judged by award-winning author Bret Lott.
Sponsored by Carly & Jesse Ritorto and the Friends of RUMINATE.
Prize Winner:
The Smallest of These by Susan Woodring
Prize Runner-Up:
Charlie’s Arm by Anna Maria Johnson
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By Wally Swist
Every summer a specific species
of wildflower has its season, grows in abandon
to spread across the landscape, fills the meadows
from Mount Pollux to the highway’s median strip,
basks in the cracks of broken pavement buckling
along Farmington Avenue in the restaurant district
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Read more... [Queen Anne's Lace]
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By Katherine E. Schneider
Suddenly all I see
is the lantern in my hand;
assaulted by rain,
its flame alive.
Midnight came fast,
and darkness edged in
between the trees,
across the leaf-layered ground,
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Read more... [Lantern]
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Issue #11 
