For joy like this, the only words I know
I’ve had to borrow from the other side:
knocked out, steamrollered, damn, I almost died,
familiar phrases for some crushing blow
that brings you to your knees. I’ve been laid low
by love, ground into dust by heaven’s wheels.
Funny how much like this rock bottom feels,
the tears, the weakness, and the letting go.
My blessing: May you, in your turn, break down
and lose your marbles. May you fall apart,
be smashed to smithereens and blown away,
scattered in all directions. May you drown.
May happiness make mincemeat of your heart;
and helpless, may you wring your hands and pray.
How Science Trumped Materialism (ft. Michel-Yves Bolloré)
In the latest installment of the ongoing interview series with contributing editor Mark Bauerlein, Michel-Yves Bolloré joins…
A Tale of Two Maybes
"Who knows, God may yet repent and turn from his fierce anger, so that we perish not”…
Christmas Nationalism
Writing for UnHerd, Felix Pope reported on a December 13 Christmas celebration organized by the English nationalist…