Their shadows flickered and stretched to the west.The future fixed its lidless eyeOn concrete switchgrass, furrows of asphalt.Telescopes, searchlights aimed on highShot the flare of the mind at darkness.We stood on the moon but failed to scryThe star called wormwood. The signal changed, but the

At The Future of the Catholic Literary Imagination quot conference the most dynamic panel for my money was the one entitled quot Catholic Literati The Next Generation. Given this title I feel for the three men who made up the panel Randy Boyagada James Matthew Wilson and Josh Hren

“What men truly want is peace,”Says the last one true prophet.Peace feels so like submissionGood prophets can fool most men.For the rest, there’s the hammer,Followed by a gentle tongue To sweet-talk the wounds. A tongueWorks wonders keeping the peace,But wonder-workers keep ha

You're a fan of Bob Dylan, right? But not really. You're a fan of his music. You prefer covers by Adele, Johnny Cash, The Byrds or Joan Baez, because you don't much care for Dylan's voice. And if you're like most people, you think Bob Dylan is sort of a jerk.

From 1928 to 2003, the Catholic Book Club worked as a subscription service where America partnered with publishers to mail books to CBC readers. A (more or less) comprehensive list of 75 years worth of selections can be found here.

'Searching for Marquette,' by Ruth D. Nelson