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Poetry Ultreia (For My Parents) When the Lord sent out the seventy-two He turned and said, In the event that you should encounter cold nights, here’s some bedding to lay under this mosquito netting— at the suggestion of my Dad. Passports, of course, are requisite. I’ve heard reports the Samarian TSA hassles every Jim and Jenny Jew for tassels the wrong shade of blue. Here’s some trail mix and spending money. Hand carved walking sticks . . . I’m just kidding. They left almost naked— their supplies no more sophisticated than a fledgling faith and an open palm. And now? How man places have I gone and found the finest furnishings mere weight? What are ‘‘camera,’’ ‘‘watch,’’ ‘‘pen,’’ ‘‘paper,’’ ‘‘plate’’ but the names I give a thousand anchors? Crook in the back. Jab in the rib. Rancors I would trade for wings. From one horizon to the next how soon we find surprise in the modesty of our bodily need. What gate or vista, what pilgrimage creed Christianity & Literature 2015, Vol. 64(4) 505–507 ! The Author(s) 2015 Reprints and permissions: journalsPermissions.nav DOI: 10.1177/0148333115593882 shall bar me welcome but for common bread broken? For water from the river’s head? For a long and patient obedience to the same road? What sweet experience of one foot that follows after the last with burdens abandoned and mountains passed. ß Phillip Aijian Author biography Phillip Aijian earned an MA in Creative Writing from the University of Missouri and is currently pursuing a PhD in English at the University of California, Irvine, where he studies Shakespeare’s politics and theology. His poems have been published in ZYZZYVA, St. Katherine Review, Poor Yorick, and Princemere. He lives with his wife, guitars, and cat in Fullerton, California, and is slowly assembling material for a third studio album.Poetry New Eden Ghazal The life of like mind filled with all notions replete Plants a new arboretum that makes me complete. This garden with the guy smells luscious and so ripe, But the slick slithering I hear snakes me complete. Take! Eat! You will not die. That’s what he told me, and Look at me still standing. The lie fakes me complete. One minute on the lips, a lifetime on the hips And on the knees, sobbing. Regret aches me complete. 506 Christianity & Literature 64(4) ...


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