A turkey, turnkey, turncoat, dovecote, dove
waddles and wavers and wings her way above,
metempsychoses, metamorphoses
crossing horizons, orisons, seasons, seas,
slow-shutter shudder, each shape reshaped, reborn
as cochon, cocoon, raccoon, acorn, corn,
and art, like nature, thinking nothing of it—
a pageant in a grove, a page in Ovid.
—Amit Majmudar
Is Churchill America’s Hero? (ft. Sean McMeekin)
In this episode, Sean McMeekin joins R. R. Reno on The Editor’s Desk to talk about his…
The West Distorted
G. K. Chesterton’s novel The Flying Inn begins with a strange seaside encounter involving one Misysra Ammon,…
Does Just War Doctrine Require Moral Certainty?
Pope Leo XIV has made it clear that the U.S. war on Iran does not, in his…