We kept building our steeples higher until
emissions streamed to thousands of miles away,
but distant lakes spit up frogspawn & fish,
so we built our steeples higher until —
though at first we couldn’t tell — emissions
circled the globe to snow & rain
on us. So we built our steeples higher,
through mackerel clouds, the last chains
of food. Instead, we should have dug a hole
like a cathedral in the earth, receptacle for all
preternatural desire. Adream, we’ll kneel
in pews there: flowers of stained glass above us
& censers swinging by, a choir advertising wind
tearing over our steeples higher & higher.
—William Heyen
The Ones Who Didn’t Convert
Melanie McDonagh’s Converts, reviewed in First Things last month, allows us to gaze close-up at the extraordinary…
The Burning World of William Blake (ft. Mark Vernon)
In the latest installment of the ongoing interview series with contributing editor Mark Bauerlein, Mark Vernon joins…
Bladee’s Redemptive Rap
Georg Friedrich Philipp von Hardenberg, better known by his pen name Novalis, died at the age of…