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This Word Is Church
by Harmony Button This essay is the first in our new feature “This Word Is” where writers meditate on a single word and its meaning through sound and memory, anecdote and etymology. One Sunday...
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A Little More Pirate Now
by Harmony Button “A Little More Pirate Now” is part of our “This Word Is” feature. Please see the submissions page for details, and then send us your words! I’ve always loved a good heist story. It...
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This Word Is Cop
By Harmony Button I had a pretty awesome childhood. My best friend Greg lived on a hill out in the middle of farm country with corn fields and grape vines and crab apples. In the fall, the trees would...
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This Word Is Body
By Harmony Button There is a certain horror to the ordinary. Every day, we force ourselves to do things that go against the messages of the body. I watch the nurse turn towards me, needle in her hand....
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This Word Is Teach
by Harmony Button I was in the back of the bus, and I didn’t know when to get off. I couldn’t see out the front — there were too many kids in the way — but the houses and trees I could glimpse looked...
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This Word Is Forest
By Harmony Button Sometimes writing — as well as reading — is a kind of bushwhacking. Sometimes, the path exists, and you can almost feel it, underfoot, even when the scrub oak has reclaimed the...
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This Word Is Dig
by Harmony Button As you drive west from Salt Lake (a city situated in the relatively lush Uinta basin, surrounded by steep mountains and foliage that is fed year-round by snowmelt), you’ll notice a...
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An Autobiography in Water
by Harmony Button In fourth grade, at my artsy hippie school, we used to walk to the local YMCA to go swimming. It was about a mile from the school to the pool, and we knew the route backwards and...
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This Word Is Play
by Harmony Button Instructions: Read the things in an order which is pleasing to you. Accept invitations. Come to play. * * * Poems, like playgrounds, provide generative space, but rely upon the...
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This Word Is Grow
by Harmony Button I got my first sunburn of the season while I was outside, in the back yard, tying sticks together with little pieces of twine to make an archway into the garden. It’s a yearly ritual...
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