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

Thursday, May 01, 2008


~ D.S. Martin

a poem for the first poet of English

There are certain times you're as comfortable
as the babe settling down in the sweet hay of the manger
& others when you see the harp being passed hand
to hand getting closer to you song
by song & as the music continues to swell
the hands that are sure upon the hay fork become
wet & tingly so you wipe them on your breeches
& swallow a little of the monks' warm ale
but it doesn't steady you or do anything for your swollen
languid tongue & still the harp moves closer
so you slip out to the stable to be sure everything's
right with the horses though why wouldn't it be seeing
you've already rubbed them down & picked their hooves
clean although fresh clumps steam in the stalls
as a large shape shivers in the darkness
recognizing the way you move As his tail swishes & hooves
clomp on the clay floor you reassure the beast
& tell yourself as you settle in the straw
you'll return to the glaring lamplit clamour of the feast
as soon as you find your breathing
But that's when the angel appears lifting
you from a sleep you've fallen into like from a dark well
& he calls you to sing
You stammer a protest as Moses did
but he calls you to sing
a song of the creation of all things
& that is the beginning