Stonework is published by Houghton College, a Christian liberal arts college located in New York’s rural Genesee Valley. Stonework seeks a diverse mix of mature and emerging voices in fellowship with the evangelical tradition. Published twice a year, the journal reflects the arts community at Houghton College where excellence in music, writing, and the visual arts has long been a distinctive.

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  • Issue 6
    Poetry by Paul Willis and Thom Satterlee. Fiction and interview with Lori Huth. Essay by James Wardwell, and student poets from Christian campuses.
  • Issue 5
    Poetry by Susanna Childress and Debra Rienstra. Fiction excerpt by Emilie Griffin. Art from Houghton's 2007 presidential inauguration and a forum on women writing.
  • Issue 4
    Matthew Roth--new poems. Diane Glancy--from One of Us and an interview. John Tatter-on gardens and poetry. The Landscapes of John Rhett. Stephen Woolsey--on the poetry of Jack Clemo. James Wardwell--on Herrick.
  • Issue 3
    Poetry by Julia Kasdorf, Robert Siegel and Sandra Duguid. Fiction by Tom Noyes. The portraits of Alieen Ortlip Shea. An anthology of Australian Poets
  • Issue 2
    Thom Satterlee - Poems from Burning Wycliff with an appreciation by David Perkins. Alison Gresik - new fiction and an interview. James Zoller - Poems from Living on the Floodplain.
  • Issue 1
    Luci Shaw — new poems with an appreciation by Eugene H. Peterson & Hugh Cook — new fiction and an interview

Wednesday, April 18, 2007

Passion Play

~Marcus Goodyear

From a step stool my girl drops tabs in 6 cups,
red, yellow, green, orange, blue, and pink.
She tells the Easter story while we wait
for shells to stain. "This is Jesus,"
C.J. begins. She's got a red M&M doll,
a McDonald's Happy Meal prize. "Here's the cross,"
she says and displays her Popsicle stick
creation from the Baptist egg hunt.
The M&M doll has a clip--so trendy kids
can hang him from their back pack zipper,
I guess. No marketing exec for junk or fast food
foresaw the candy man of sorrows crucified
on my kitchen table, cups of vinegar hissing
disdain around him. In her gospel
Big Bird stands in for both Marys and visits
the crook of my arm. “Here, Daddy, be the tomb.”
Elmo rises a creepy soft angel squeezed, tickled
and giggling against my white washed shoulder
"He is not here! He is risen!"
But our Jesus has not. The storyteller forgot
the hanging candy doll--or worse, I fear--
prefers to see him hang there
an acceptable suggestion of sacrifice
reminding us both to dip our hands
in the bunny bowl for Easter M&Ms,
lilies stamped where Ms should be.
Colored shells bleed on our palms,
and the candy Christ speaks,
“This is my body. Take and eat.”