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by J Christian Lawrence

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Latest Essays

Sonnet IV: Love’s Game’s Gone

If my bare heart shall be your blank, fire onIn words the wounds that’ve wound you up, let looseYour ammo’s shot (that being, your amors gone),On target that beats, e’en till the fuse diffuse, Shoot, here’s fair mark: that hearts hurt (on hearts) hound,Look, fair game, when the hart’s in the clearing,Beastly love pounces itsContinue reading “Sonnet IV: Love’s Game’s Gone”

Life as Motion

I heard many cries. But I couldn’t a single person see. Though the cries were so close. Before I could ask about this, Dante stopped, and bent his ear East. Then we heard a sound, not groan but melody, as of a Japanese flute – piping from so very far away.

Anger’s Slough

Now our boat’s journey across the slough, or swamp, had become very bumpy, and I thought that perhaps some rocks our path obstructed. But looking down taught the truth: Our boat bounced along shields, swords, bullets, wings, bursting flak, fishhooks, beartraps, all the weapons of man, and worst of all, men and women, of all kinds, warring in the water.