The internet may be a gift from God,
As the Pope says, a utility
We can manipulate but not see,
Neither tangible nor abstract, an odd
Reality we can demonstrate
But not touch, invisible as space
But informing all around us. Like grace?
Something we use but never really understand.
At meetings now, before our working day begins,
We sit with our heads bowed and stare,
Backlit breviaries in hand,
Rocking in a pantomime of prayer.
—Patrick Duddy
Asters
The asters bloom amid late-summer heat,Low-lying stars that will not linger longAnd bend their sprays beneath the…
To Live Fittingly
Why do the humanities face such a hostile climate? In part it’s because academics have excluded ordinary,…
Early Arrival
Last year we laid squares of sodDown in our bare yard. At first,Pale, slender spears grew tall…