The buyer signed the contract smugly sure
The guarded walls he’d bought would keep away
The street-game children, noisy in their play;
The beggars, hungry, hideous, and poor;
The Bible salesmen coming door to door;
Annoying relatives, who’d overstay;
Do-gooder activists, with things to say.
Unwelcome faces would intrude no more.
He should have known the contract was a lie:
Past sentry’s eye, past photo-sensor gate,
Past locks reset with bit-encoded key,
An awful Visitor would, in time, slip by,
To shock a man secure in his estate:
“This night thy soul shall be required of thee.”
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…
Work Is for the Worker
In these early days of his pontificate, Pope Leo XIV has made one thing clear: The responsible…