Table of Contents
Firestorms by Wade Bentley
Attic Lights by Wade Bentley
Other Things by Wade Bentley
Chickens at the Fair by Michael Mack
Pounder’s Beach by Diane Moore
Starless Night by Ann Best
World War I: Past Poets by Michael Rutter
Digger: Scene Seven by Robert Lauer
Playing the Game: Scene Five by Eric Samuelsen
Cathedral in the Desert by Wayne Sandholtz
Out of the Blue by Warren Icke
Gadamer’s Theory of Openness: “Toward Hermaneutic Education” by Stacy Burton
Thankful Children by Cindy Hallen
The Payment by Billy Plunkett
Conditions in General by Pauline Mor
Harvest of the Pure Image by John Snyder
The Payment by Doug Himes
Out of the Blue by Alma Lee
The Overweight Poet Poems by Wayne Taylor
The Day He Reigned by Jenny Hale Pulsipher
You Want to Know about This One Here? by Curtis Wade Bentley
Where the Mormons Go by Curtis Wade Bentley
The Curve of the River by Pauline Mortensen
My Ivy League Education, An Autobiography: 1967-71 by Wayne Taylor
Odysseus: A Morality Play by Phillip Hurlbut
by Rebecca Cazanave
Sometimes semesters feel more like years than months. Sometimes the cold weather drags and motivation begins waning as early as January. Stepping into another semester of remote learning and social distancing on top of the typical winter doldrums, I expected pulling together another edition of Inscape to feel wearisome.
Under the best of circumstances, Inscape impresses me. From the hundreds of submissions we get, the hours our staff spends discussing each piece, and the care that goes into copyediting and formatting, every edition feels like a literal miracle rising out of the overwhelm of a semester.
This semester, however, Inscape inspired me. Despite emotional challenges, theses defenses for our genre editors, exhaustion, and manifold other difficulties, our team put in the time and effort to make something beautiful and to shine a spotlight on the artists that have made us think differently about life and the world.
A part of me wishes I could say something profound about this edition, about how we curated it or about the themes that stood out to us, but lately I’ve been thinking about the last lines of Archibald MacLeish’s “Ars Poetica.” It reads “A poem should not mean / But be” (ll. 23–24). I think the same can be said for an edition of Inscape.
So instead I’ll say thank you to our contributors for trusting us with their work and to our staff for fully investing. Inscape couldn’t be without you.