Brief Notes on “1913 Massacre” by Woody Guthrie and the Massacre of the Innocents
And the town was lit up by a cold Christmas moon/The parents they cried and the miners they moaned…
Hagoth favors essays that can trace their lineage back to Michel de Montaigne; whether narrative, analytical, or devotional, these essays lean ruminative, conversational, meandering, impressionistic, and are reluctant to wax didactic. But that doesn’t mean you won’t find the occasional poem or piece of fiction here as well.
And the town was lit up by a cold Christmas moon/The parents they cried and the miners they moaned…

But what a rumor!
“My Favorite Things” was not originally a Christmas song, and John Coltrane proves it.

With some notes on Michelle Pfeiffer’s righteously angry Catwoman.
It’s coming on Christmas, they’re cutting down trees…

Whose land is this according to the Book of Mormon?

Another species of uncreative nonfiction.

The same skills that made D. Michael Quinn such a ferocious historian did not similarly serve him as a memoirist.

A cold and wet November dawn…

On a physically embodied poetry and gospel.
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