Articles By: Michael Funderburk

Michael Funderburk grew up in the small town of Ovilla, Texas. After living for two years in Ethiopia working with orphans and vulnerable children, he now spends his days "irrigating deserts" in a classroom in North Dallas, where he enjoys teaching Shakespeare and Sophocles. When he's not grading papers, he enjoys spending time with his wife and daughters, reading, writing, film, and trying to make grass grow in his yard (though so far, he's proven to be particularly inept at the latter).

Gethsemane (Hours)

“I didn’t go to religion to make me happy. I always knew a bottle of Port would do that.” ~ C.S. Lewis Night often finds me At the edge of life’s abyss, Staring into the chasm— all expectations emptied, all joy swallowed by its gaping mouth. There’s no fire at its bottom— just darkness—black as...

April 6th, 2013 | Poetry | Read More

The Eighth Day and the First Week (or The Mystery of Faith)

Eighth day First day of the new aeon Deniers, doubters, disillusioned Frightened, mistrustful Doors locked then Presence: “Peace be with you” and “Peace be with you” and Breath of life for the new aeon then (later) “I will not . . . ” Empirical data required then (silence) Eight days later [We’re...

October 28th, 2012 | Poetry | Read More

Feast

Feast I Self-forgetfully, the defenseless orifice widens Awaiting the hand, the nourishment it will give. The ivory and yellowed teeth are exposed for all to see as Sauces drip, moans and smiles unleash animal laughter, Filling this hall with the hilarity of that original trust. At this...