Archived entries for Vic Sizemore

Poetry at the Goodwill

By Vic Sizemore

When I was a soccer-obsessed fifteen-year-old, I had no use for poetry. I endured my school hours like a crated dog, waiting to get out on the field.

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The Creationist Crisis

By Vic Sizemore

Recently my brother had a DNA test done to see what our nationality/ethnicity breakdown is.

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The Rich, the Poor, and Jesus

By Vic Sizemore

In November of 2013, Oxfam International released the results of a study that found an ever-growing concentration of the world’s wealth into the hands of a very few.
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We Have Eternity in Our Hearts

By Vic Sizemore

We are infinitesimally small by astronomical standards, small as a single-celled parasite in a mosquito’s intestine, smaller even. Continue Reading …

Come Before Winter Part Two

By Vic Sizemore

When Joseph Campbell lectured on Dante’s life chart in the Convivio, it was in the context of his own charting of an archetypal life pattern. He developed it from his study of world mythologies. He calls it the hero’s journey. Continue Reading …

Come Before Winter Part One

By Vic Sizemore

Earlier this year Philip Roth told an interviewer from the French magazine Les InRocks, he has put down his pen forever. He told them he is finished writing, is turning his back on it entirely. Continue Reading …

Who Needs to Read Anymore?

By Vic Sizemore

And they have this new language they use, one I’m only slightly familiar with. This makes me nervous. Am I really the one who’s being left behind? Continue Reading …

The Boy Who Lived Large

By Vic Sizemore

Tyler was sixteen years old. The service was nice. The pastor had lost a six-year-old daughter to asthma, and was particularly tuned in to the family’s pain. Continue Reading …

The Severe Wind Event

By Vic Sizemore

Strange iridescent-green insects flitted around, bugs who normally live in the tops of those trees where we never see them. Continue Reading …

My Kite Boy

By Vic Sizemore

I was afraid. I did my quick mental inventory. Everything was as it should be. Kids in bed. Doors locked. Then I remembered the nightmares I’d just had in rapid succession. Continue Reading …



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