HeyJaredArs Zoetica
Eric K. Carr on the art of finding the sacred in the mundane
- Indexed issues, last 90 days
- 5
- Latest publication
- Sep 27, 2026
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- Jul 5, 2026
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Let Your Stories Have an Arc. Then Let Them Become an Ark. (opens the original)
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Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when publishedThe Last Cicada of Summer First The noon air is a sizzling wire, Arcing between sun And the stark crispness of shade. Cicadas are born for this, Their bodies small bronze engines Turning summer heat into electric sound. Each trill is like glass beads Rolled across the tin roof of the day, Coalescing to crash the quiet afternoon Into sharp shards of a single-note symphony. Their songs glitter into every crevice of the air Wit
What I Learned When I Lost My Sight, Part II: Philokalia (opens the original)
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Mary Oliver famously wrote:Teach the children. We don’t matter so much, but the children do. Show them daisies and the pale hepatica. Teach them the taste of sassafras and wintergreen. The lives of the blue sailors, mallow, sunbursts, the moccasin flowers. And the frisky ones — inkberry, lamb’s quarters, blueberries. And the aromatic ones — rosemary, oregano. Give them the fields and the woods and the possibility of the world salvaged from the lords of profit. Stand them in the stream, head them
What I Learned When I Lost My Sight, Part I: Addiction (opens the original)
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“People have forgotten to be ecstatic. I mean you could get ecstatic over a box of matches — they’re kind of amazing! And that’s the balance with the rage, I suppose, and the emptiness. Emptiness is never going to get us to get up and do anything, but ecstasy might.”Mary Oliver, PBS American Masters<a class="image-link image2 is-viewable-img" href="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!FPel!,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-p
Just For Today: Lessons from a Trip to Coal Country (opens the original)
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Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when publishedGreen The corn cobs made a verdant ladder up each broom-straight stalk, nearly every newly-papered bundle glowing with a blond tousle of silk. There were millions of them. Maybe even more. I had never seen so much corn in all my life, great living expanses stretched beneath us like an algal sea as our plan
The Eagle Versus the Housefly (opens the original)
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Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when publishedChurch House The ceiling to the office is open Like a heart Fully lost in prayer. While the whole room Is lined with taut plastic And filled with fans I think of our awestruck discovery Of old wax Stuck like lattice On the rugged beams and bricks Holding up the roof. Somehow A hive — An entire monarchy of bees — Once found its way Into the space Between the ceiling and the roof And had thrived
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