More on: poetry

All is still. God has come and gone.

Katie Ford’s collection If You Have to Go was in steady rotation for me. I would finish another book, then go back and reread Ford.

Can we stay awake this time? Can we keep the world from ending, not by flood or fire but by its own human hand?

This place is an ark now.
Behave as you would on an ark.

Bless the Doctor, O my soul, and my daughter’s soul and all my daughter’s missing genes shall bless His holy degree.

In the hollow of her mantle, in the crossing of her arms,
she will protect you.

But should you be patient enough to wait near the edge of the forest where invisible and visible merge with magic and miracle.

As Aristotle knew, for our lives to be complete, there must be something that we desire to do for its own sake—something that is not a means to an end, but an end in itself.

There was no religion in our house. For years I thought it was a hole, a gap in the woodwork I needed to fill.

In Siena’s basilica, Saint Catherine’s head, freed from its reliquary, now stands in its ownskin, incorrupt on the silver altar, the teeth still visiblein that open air.