Mom asks, “How’s your son?”every time I visit now.(I’ve never had one.)She asks it loudlysweetly crinkling eyes as ifshe knows I’ll proudlytell his latest news:Timmy learned to stand today—Tim can tie his shoes—(or should he be Hugh?)He’ll have dinner with you, Mom,soon as soccer’s . . . . Continue Reading »
A hippie peddles jewelryBeneath a poinciana tree,A mother picks her daughter upBacklit before an endless sea.All of this life of business,The local news, the cheerful mess,Takes place within these sixty miles—Limit amid limitlessness.And is this Earth an island too?—A grain of sand, a drop of . . . . Continue Reading »
I am the very model of a modern ultramontanist
I’ve been congratulated as an excellent dialogist
I have degrees from all the best colleges of theology
I do not know quite what it means but I reject ontology. . . . Continue Reading »
After years of controversy over the mishandling of sexual predators among the priests of his archdiocese, Archbishop of Minneapolis-St. Paul John Nienstedt resigned last June. Now facing criminal prosecution, the diocese is legally bankrupt. These are among the precipitating events of Zach Czaia’s first book of poems, Saint Paul Lives Here (In Minnesota). . . . Continue Reading »
When the American Catholic poet Dunstan Thompson died in 1975, his death went virtually unnoticed. One of the rising literary stars of the 1940’s, his poetry had been practically forgotten, except among a few scholars and devoted readers. Today, Thompson still remains largely unknown, but thanks . . . . Continue Reading »
The following essay is adapted from Chapter 3 of “The Fortunes of Poetry in an Age of Unmaking.” Those who love literature, or at any rate have a vested interest in making sure great works of literature are taught at universities and that radical politics are not, could only find the conquest . . . . Continue Reading »
Our contributor and next years' honoree for the Annual Poetry Reading, Dana Gioia, was just named California's Poet Laureate. Here's an illustration of why:Prayer at Winter SolsticeBlessed is the road that keeps us homeless. Blessed is the mountain that blocks our way.Blessed are hunger . . . . Continue Reading »
Sabbath: You make demandsupon my heart, upon my hands,and, certainly, upon my mind:a quietness, profound, benignwhere receptivity will findits satisfaction: fruitfulness flowsfrom this place of deep . . . . Continue Reading »
Let us nail ourselves to him, resistingthe temptation to stand apart or to joinothers in mocking him.” —Pope Benedict XVILet us nail ourselves to him and resisttemptation’s lure to mock the onewho loves us most. Surely thisis the serpent’s curse: angel outdoneby temptation’s lure. We mock: . . . . Continue Reading »
There, in the hay’s warmth and the steaming sty,The Word born to the frailty of fleshCracks our mortality with a weak cryAnd seals our life within his endlessness. The Word born to the frailty of flesh,He lies wrapped in the cloths of mystery,And seals our life within his endlessness,In infant . . . . Continue Reading »
Subscribe
Latest Issue
Support First Things
