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The People

By David Yezzi Poetry

This is the season of dried rushes and sodden leaf-matter in parks, when the lightly furred animal bodies of the people break out in sores and a mild but insistent contagion blooms in the chilly dampness. The lowered sun does not yet warm them, despite cerulean skies. The meat-headed race trundles along in groups, God…

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By David Yezzi Poetry

This is your infinite being. Well, then, I am screwed, since the lozenge-cool om of the yogi misfires: not launching me like a sweat bead to float midair, but jangling my shorted nerves, which despite practice remain fidgety and ridiculously hidebound. And I think, is this it? Is this all I will glimpse in this…

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The World, the Flesh, and the Devil

By Pinckney Benedict Short Story

  My knights and my servants and my true children, which be come out of deadly life into spiritual life, I will now no longer hide me from you, but ye shall see now a part of my secrets and of my hid things. ———————————————————————–—Sir Thomas Malory, Le Morte D’Arthur THE AVIATOR HAD BEEN HEARING…

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Conservative Elegies

By Gregory Wolfe Essay

Bliss was it in that dawn to be alive, But to be young was very heaven! ——————William Wordsworth WITHIN JUST A FEW WEEKS, America recently lost two of its finest sons—William F. Buckley Jr. and E. Victor Milione. One was known to millions, while the other preferred obscurity, but both were seminal figures in the…

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