Contents

Articles/Essays

Mormon Europeans or European Mormons? An “Afro-European” View on Religious Colonization



Mormon history is part of the colonization history of the American West; and the LDS Church, as a major player in that process, still bears a colonization imprint in many ways. The colonizing days are over now, and the Church is part of a major political presence in the world, no longer the colonized, but rather the colonizer. In this article, I argue that the Utah-based modern Church has replicated the same colonization process on its membership abroad to which it was once subjected.



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An Open Letter to the Dialogue Board



I hope that you will not find an unsolicited letter presumptuous, but I wanted to give you my thoughts on what I see as Dialogue’s problems and some things it could do to improve. First, let me say I wish Dialogue well, and I want it to succeed. I am very heartened to see the appearance of important works on Mormonism in places like Oxford University Press or the Harvard Theological Review. However, while there may someday come a time when the publishing of Mormon studies can occur entirely outside the ghetto of wholly Mormon venues, that time has not yet come. Furthermore, for certain topics I don’t think that it will ever come. That being the case, I care a great deal about the health and public reputation of Mormon intellectual fora. 



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Fiction

White Shell



There are pieces of white shell sifted with the sands and soils of Dinetah that confuse newcomers and outsiders. Tourists look at the shells like puzzle pieces, trying to force them into what they know.…



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Homecomings



At Eastside School in Idaho Falls, they gave us a full hour for lunch; and like most of the kids, I went home each day. Mom always had my lunch ready. I’d gulp it down…



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Letters to the Editor

Personal Voices

My Belief



In 1831 at the same time that Joseph Smith was receiving visions and establishing a new church because no contemporary religion was true—they had all become dead relics with no prophecy in them—Scottish writer Thomas…



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The Man Lying in the Grass



We’re in Ogden, Utah, on the second day of May, heading home to Orem after a Sunday afternoon with grandchildren. Carol is driving south on Washington Boulevard passing low business buildings whose shadows are covering the lawns and reaching out into the street. Up ahead, I spot a man lying in the grass maybe twenty feet back from the curb. A drunk sleeping himself sober? I wonder. Probably drunk . . . But what if he’s a diabetic whose sugar is low and he can’t get up? 



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Householding: A Quaker-Mormon Marriage



The scene: my house on any weekday evening. The table’s scattered with toy airplanes, homework, books, the orange-eyed cat that’s recently adopted us, and several chewed-up pencils. I’m hunting for my keys on my way…



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Poetry

Old Rodeo Man



The ground is an absolute, the air lets 
you down. The way you leave your bronc sustains 
a conspiracy of violence you embrace 
the way you mean an oath. Forever. 



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My Brother’s Bed



To wake up remembering his empty bed 
is serene as touching the walls of a cave, 
is to believe you can keep that Friday in mind 
and heft Galilee on your back. 



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Scriptum Est



He read us stories from a book as blank
as a white sky. (He couldn’t read the sky,
however.) Words marched forward, rank on rank:
he read us stories from a book as blank



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The Elect



The righteous pagans cursed our easy grace.
We shrugged and smiled and knew salvation well.
Looking our wounded savior in the face,
the righteous pagans cursed our easy grace.



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Triple A’s



He himself is the present he is wrapping 
under the starlit branches of the sky. 
This, of course, is a truth that needs no trapping: 
it is apparent to the naked eye. 



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Faith Healing



And there she was, Kathryn Kuhlman* strolling the stage at the Civic,
parting a sea of applause, her gown like an angel that got away,
so pure it might have been empty but for the Holy Ghost preening
in her body as she paced the floral proscenium, lifting her hands
in a sign language I knew only God understood. 



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Reviews

Volume Art