Rock Bottom

by Sarah Andrews
Reviewed by Andy Hanson

This book has my strong recommendation. The description of the Grand Canyon’s geological formations is fascinating and extremely helpful in understanding the way geologists use science to determine the age of the rock layers exposed to current wind and weather. In addition, Andrews uses the story to discuss conflicting creation stories: young earth vs. ancient earth, through the lives and experiences of two young adventurers.

Em Hanson, the intrepid forensic geologist and protagonist of nine previous novels, has lost nothing of her ability to make geologic information fascinating as she solves mysteries. Along the way, she interacts with characters faced with important moral issues as they deal with scientific realities and physical and emotional challenges.

As one who has taught adolescent literature, I would recommend this book to young Christian readers who won’t be put off by occasional adult language. I’m going to make a present of this book to my grandchildren.

And Then It's Real When You Stop

“Take your inner child and kick its little ass." Dave told me that. We have a good laugh.

I fought the good fight. I know that I have righteousness on my side. I needed Dave's affection. He supported my songs, like a good drummer, or the “Boogie Woogie Boy From Company B.” I'm not a chorus girl, groupie or in the USO all. I am the rhythm.

To me Dave means Dad. There's my “father” of course. I still rely on science most. Biology and evolution. It can all get along. Denying one for the other doesn't make any sense to me. "Wisdom is as wisdom does.” Thanks Forest. Be sure to run.

What are we fighting for, by the way? Don't ask me, I give too much of a damn (or “darn” I should say; have to watch it around here). Thanks Dave. The Seamen and the Berets, purplest hearts I know. I got my own. A cigarette burn on my left breast. Thanks Mother, or should I say “Mom?”

Hit the brakes Dave!

Kathleen Kelly
November 7, 2012

Anonymous Is Synonymous Hieronymus

We are the nameless or named nobodies
the ashamed homeless
the same, yet anonymous
if anonymous is synonymous
then nameless may be shameless
by grace we save face

Thank you Hieronymus
your cosmogram is our telegram
Bosch or botched
wipeout blotches
oil and water may mix, Leonardo
but they don't last long
they say “these colors don't run”
they may not run but they fade
white remains
a simple palette
mixed up like fruit salad
purity preserves
soft, not severe
colors slide and mix

Our flag of nationalism
is a simple syllogism
a fugitive is made, or getting faded
the burdened and nameless, just like me
no slaps on the wrist please
three strikes, makes faith seem made
but we're steady and stand
Savior at our back

A different flag flies true
nothing new, always too few
who read, or see the need of the needy
they who are swollen and greedy
they may see the light

It's not dark for me at night
so long terrors, T’s the season
and I have my reasons
I found Jesus once again
he was behind the couch all along
with the lint and a crumpled old song

Kathleen Kelley
November 6, 2012

Today is the Day

Today is the day for the tricks and play
Don't know what to say
Demons to slay
Save the day or date
Left to fate a devil or saint

Hey Riders and Sliders
Burgers and bums
Just watch you might lose
Keep track of your shoes
Hold up the undies honey
Don't worry we know it
So don't show it

Run Run Run
Stamp Stamp Stamp
Sing in the rain
To drive out the pain
Don't worry
We're all insane

Kathleen Kelley
October 31, 2012

Lonely

Lonely

Spent the day with Lonely again;

Lonely thinks she’s my best friend.

I guess sometimes she’s not so bad—

I know at times she’s all I had.

Lonely reminds me that I am alive,

a person with faults and feelings inside.

She asks me the questions I can’t ask myself;

She pulls out the memories I’ve set on life’s shelf.

Lonely says she’s good for me—

with her by my side, I know that I’m free.

But her company rarely ever feels right,

not once has she kept me warm at night.

Lonely’s been known to make me cry—

she never would spare my feelings with lies.

Lonely believes she’s the best thing I’ve got.

I guess that’s why she shows up a lot.

Lately it seems she’s always around.

Why bother hiding? I know I’ll be found.

And so we just sit here, Lonely and me,

discussing the past and what’s yet to be.

Lonely is sure our friendship will grow

if I can just learn to be on my own.

Sheena Jessee

Chloe and Salyanna IV

By James B. Mielke

boneyardhound@hotmail.com 

Edzelian was bored and wandered away from the beach crowd. He meandered across the picnic lawn and idly explored the bottom of a ravine on the lawn’s uphill side, scouting out the best cover for the next hide-and-seek match.

With a shout Luvin leaped from behind a shrub: “Hey, Edzy!”

          The younger boy jumped in surprise and he backed up against a tree trunk. His eyes darted over the ground, looking for the best escape route. “Leave me alone.”

          “I’m sorry,” Luvin said, turning aside and smiling. He had the brightest grin in the colony, backed by sparkling eyes, deceptively happy; it was an irresistible smile. “I shouldn’t be mean to you guys. Here, I’ve got something for you.” He held out an old fashioned dagger shaped letter opener; the unpolished brass was brown.

          Edzelian took it, turning it over in his hands and looking closely at the floral pattern stamped into the grip. “Wow, that’s neat—where’d you get it?”

          It was stolen: “I found it.”

          All boys like toys: “You’re giving it to me?”

          “Sure—if you be my friend.”

          Edzelian frowned, “No one wants to be your friend.”

          “It’s not fair! I’m just another kid.”

          The younger boy gave Luvin a long silent looking at. The infectious grin was on half display, downcast bashful eyes mellowing its tone—he sure passed for ‘just another kid’. Looking down to his hand, Edzelian toyed with the letter opener and felt the need to possess it. He fingered the point, “Mom has some knives shaped like this—they’re really sharp.”

          “I like knives. They’re just like that, you say?”

          “Yeah—they’re balanced, for throwing.”

          “That sounds neat. I’d like to try it—can you bring me one?”

          “I don’t know—I’m not supposed to take things.”

          “Ah, that’s just grown-ups. They always boss kids around.”

          “Yeah, I know.”

          “So get that knife.”

          “I don’t wanna be blamed.”

          Luvin was so frustrated he almost let loose with his fist, but that would spoil his plan. He threw the loaded smile again. “You can do it—your Mom’s got so many knives… I know! Take me up there, sneak me in—I’ll get the knife and you can’t get blamed. It’ll be our secret plan, just us.”

          “Secret?”

          “Yeah. Like spies.”

          Edzelian had wide wicked playful eyes. “Spies—that’s fun—I like playing spies.”

          “Can we do it?”

          He was lost in fantasy. “Spies… Yeah, let’s be spies.”

          “When is your Mom out of the cabin?”

          “Right now, I think. We can go up there. I know a way she doesn’t—she’s too big.”

          Luvin clapped his new ally on the back. “Cool.”

Virst Ferses

Virst Ferses

aka Whiskey Wagon Woman

             A wagon load of women wet and wild

             Met a wagon load of whiskey, strong, not mild

             They rolled up to the mountains to a meadow in the sky

             To my little homey cabin, they came to get me high

             We danced around my parlor, we partied on my bed

             When I tried to love one she said ‘let’s drink!’ instead

             With a bottle for a boyfriend and whiskey on her mind

             My whiskey wagon woman was doing me unkind