Pill bottles in assorted sizes lie
scattered across the smooth Formica plain
of the bathroom countertop. They testify
like pediments and pillars that remain,
nbroken, askew, and fallen, on the site
of some great ancient temple, to a past
both glorious and vivid, and invite
the meditations of elegiast.
nThe architect of this Aesclepion
built carefully that it might stand for years.
Its private altar, visited each dawn
and dusk, suppressed his pain and muffled fears.
nBut understanding some theology,
we realize that this temple’s final fall
was foreordained before the moment he
laid cornerstone in place to bear it all.
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…