J W Knopf

Joined February 2021

17 stories

Bio

JW enjoys travel, singing, hiking, ice cream and being around water. Favorite reading and writing subjects include philosophy, theology, spiritual well-being, history, biography, political theory, mental health and disability issues.

Stories (17)

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Imprint on an icy pond
Fall in ice amber, All alike falling silent, Save one windhover – Rising, kindling fire, offering to endless night,
By J W Knopf3 years ago in Poets
From the Basement Steps
Our Father, The Man Upstairs, Morning Gardener, Cigar-smoking Pilot-provider, Evening Farmer. My dad, the man downstairs,
By J W Knopf3 years ago in Poets
Cloverleaf
The outside world was unknown to her, but she could see a glimpse of it through the window in his room. If she pressed her face against the feet of the Good Shepherd, she could see through the gap where one stray bullet had knocked out one frame of the grass-green knoll. By day, Abbess Anna would peer through the missing piece of stained glass into the courtyard below. By night, she would drink in cool air, watching the shadow of the cross slide down the slate roof. She prayed for him, her Shepherd, fighting the good fight out in the cloverleaf.
By J W Knopf3 years ago in Fiction
Through the Middle Distance
Part 1: Entanglement The first time he proposed, they were visiting the Key West butterfly conservancy. Malcolm and Diomedea had navigated the challenges of meeting online and developing a relationship across 5,000 miles, but the final step was too much distance to cover.
By J W Knopf3 years ago in Fiction
The Graveyard of Used Toilets
Norman always did make me laugh, even when we were hauling demolished urinals to the junkyard. Sometimes I laughed with him at the absurdity of it all. Mostly, he laughed at me, for taking things too seriously.
By J W Knopf3 years ago in Fiction
The Archealchemist
There were not always dragons in the valley. And if, by the saints, trouble comes in threes and miracles abide alone, then there shall come a time when we long for their return.
By J W Knopf4 years ago in Fiction
Triduum
August 1966, B.Chatwin Journal No. 86 Interviewed two brothers today near the Black Hills for the auction house. Smelled of pipe tobacco, lanolin and horse manure for the remainder of the day. Lewis and Benjamin have spent their entire lives on this same farm bordering Herefordshire. Might make a great story – an example of the palimpsest of history’s treasures and a contrast to my tales from the end of the world.
By J W Knopf4 years ago in Fiction
The Pentecostal Mennonite
Downing the Tree They did not know I was listening, measuring the cadence of each phrase, learning to speak their language.
By J W Knopf4 years ago in Earth
Rushing River
"Tell me, young miracle, how does a pear tree come to be planted by the riverbank?" "I don't know, Grandma. But I bet you know."
By J W Knopf4 years ago in Families
Eulogy for Eden
When he left me, I was still calling his name. Deaf or indifferent, what did it matter to me? My brother was halfway up the hill, no sign of turning back to help. I tried again to free my scarf from the barbed wire fence, but the sharp jacks just tore through my gloves. Between the cool snowflakes sticking to my eyelashes and the hot tears welling up, the world was losing focus. With my face and shoulder strung above the ground and the rest of my five-year old body stretching out toward the icy pond, I could feel the hum of low voltage close to my ear. I stopped trying to push through and sank backwards to my boots. I broke free of the plaid noose stretching taut between the wire and my neck. Jesse would be walking in the front door about now; my parents would be asking him where in the world I was. I stood by the frozen pond, staring at the red threads hanging there between the breeze and the twisted wire.
By J W Knopf4 years ago in Families
The Effect of Gamma Rays on a Pandemic Marigold
It was the first winter in my memory with no snow days. School was closed every day because of the pandemic. I did my best to teach kindergarten students who had never seen any classroom, let alone my own. They were a diverse bunch, reflecting the wealthy and the work-weary across our world, as anyone could tell by looking at the vaulted ceilings or the crowded walls within their frames on the computer monitor. From my files and my frustrations, I had gathered that only a few spoke any English at home. I had expected the Spanish and the Hindi, buy how did all these people who spoke Telegu end up in Howard County? All the same, each student in my remote class was taking to American Sign Language like a fish to water. Or should I say, like a puppy to new shoes.
By J W Knopf4 years ago in Fiction
Oak and Granite
The sparrow hath found an house, and the swallow a nest for herself, where she may lay her young... Psalm 84:3 Ruach, the barn swallow
By J W Knopf5 years ago in Fiction

J W Knopf

Bio

Stories .css-1svwz57-Text{display:inline-block;color:var(--text-default-mute);}(17)

Filter by community

Imprint on an icy pond

From the Basement Steps

Cloverleaf

Through the Middle Distance

The Graveyard of Used Toilets

The Archealchemist

Triduum

The Pentecostal Mennonite

Rushing River

Eulogy for Eden

The Effect of Gamma Rays on a Pandemic Marigold

Oak and Granite

Stories (17)