Not with the myth and phosphorus of metaphor. Not
with lines of force looped in true-love knots.
Not by dumping the urn and reading the ashes. Not
through sonic wantonness, but not
through disciplined listening, either. Not
with numbers always setting words at naught
nor letter-cluttered words whose O is nought.
Not by guessing at the sea’s pet name for night. Not
by vivisecting “noun” and naming all its parts. Not
with tongs and not with tweezers, not
with tongues and not with gestures. Not
through loftiness, analysis, or laughter. Not
by saying what it is. But definitely not
by saying what it’s not.
—Amit Majmudar
Artful Faith (ft. Stephen Auth)
In the latest installment of the ongoing interview series with contributing editor Mark Bauerlein, Stephen Auth joins…
In Praise of Translation
This essay was delivered as the 38th Annual Erasmus Lecture. The circumstances of my life have been…
Caravaggio and Us
Nicolas Poussin, the greatest French artist of the seventeenth century, once said that Caravaggio had come into…