Long, long ago this riverside tale starts
No more the praise of divine holiness
The land altered virgin to whore at heart
Cities dot the plain praising only bliss
Rise up! The divine oppressor has died!
Nietzsche, Darwin, Derrida are your...
For Exander, on his second birthday
In this egalitarian age
of trans(en)gendered equivalencies
work-product art exists, no more or less,
as a fungible proxy for any
other unit of work-product art;
none are good, so there can be none better;
to be deemed best but sleight-of-hand prestige:
If a democracy drifts into unlimited notions of freedom, the best course of action is not to strip citizens of freedom, but rather to educate them, so that they can correct any constitutional abuses that contributed or led the way to the abyss of nihilism...
In Honor of Cardinal Robert Sarah
On weekend strolls at dusk
Or lonely morning drives
Do we let silence sink in,
Or rather, run and hide?
Blaring music or conversations,
From synthetic plastic to our ears,
It matters not, we console ourselves
As long as the quiet not...
In their ego-centered quest for radical originality, too many contemporary poets fail to keep in mind what Catharine Brosman reminds us is the poet’s primary obligation in every age: “to say the oldest thing in the world as though it had never been said before”...
Wallace Stevens’ poetry is replete with examples of this effort to understand and articulate the poet as creator of things and meaning...
Wallace Stevens wrote in a letter to a friend that “fter all, I like...
A lantern dims within the old belfry;
There are not now any bells to be rung;
And yet there sleeps a song dreaming nobly
In the silence where once three bells had swung.
Within the heart of a fair land far-flung,
Beneath stars that no...
In this dull utilitarian age, there seems little less useful than poetry. What good is it? There are few who get rich writing or publishing poetry, and when it comes to practicality, it is practically good for...
In the poetry of Jeremiah Webster's After So Many Fires, we have found Flannery O’Connor's Protestant counterpart. Though an Anglican, Dr. Webster weaves his words on the same theological loom as O'Connor, seeing in the world’s maddening duality a divine coherence...
After So Many Fires by...
Both John Paul II and T.S. Eliot give people something to hope for: Blessed John Paul speaks of a new springtime on the horizon signaling the emergence of a culture of life, and Eliot ends “The Waste Land” on a hopeful, if cryptic, note...
Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,
The flying cloud, the frosty light:
The year is dying in the night;
Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.
Ring out the old, ring in the new,
Ring, happy bells, across the snow:
Two days after Christmas, on the 27th of December, the Church keeps the feast of St. John the Evangelist. It is fitting that the Gospel writer whose prologue delves so deeply into the mystery of Incarnation, and whose...
Last year I was asked by the Precentor of Wells Cathedral if I would write an extra 8th Antiphon sonnet to go with the special 8th O antiphon, O Virgo Virginum, which was used in English churches and Cathedrals in the...
Before first-frost enfolds the woodland glade,
Compelling fowl and foliage to flight,
Anoint the earth with balm of prayers prayed.
The bodies of beleaguered brothers laid
Have yet to rot and yet to reunite,
Before first-frost enfolds the woodland glade.