I commit the fatal modern sin of actually having one, a point of view on the world and man that is not up for negotiation. Better that than a constantly shifting POV that
views that patrimony of the past as superfluous, that opposes same sex marriage one day and enthusiastically supports it the next, that constantly has one finger to the wind and another on the remote control, surfing for the next bit of media distraction, swayed by polls and a constant deluge of useless information and utterly unable to place events in any sort of context not manufactured by the sophists of the day.

For the record, my perspective: man is endowed by his Creator with inherent dignity and rights but burdened by the Fall with a nature that is broken, sinful, and weak and which spreads that burden to the entire world. The political problem is how best to recognize that dignity and those rights and protect them from the violence, chaos, and anarchy that is inherent in such a fallen world. It requires both civic and martial virtues (courage, honesty, honor, integrity, strength, nobility, purity), and, in a health polis, those 2 sets of virtues should reinforce each other rather than contradict each other. It requires a willingness to defend the innocent through strength of arms.
What's your perspective?

Invite

What's singing inside me? I do not know.
No more floating, no more suspense, please.
Something says, "Not so, not so, not so,"
You've left me hanging on your stage whispers,

Your promises of breaking and entering,
That you would burst into this room and find me
Hiding, alone in my narrow shame,
Deadbolted and hole blocked by a skeleton key

Perhaps I should play the Spartan,
Mastering myself, closed mouth, no syllables,
But I am no match for all my fears,
Writhing and breeding in sawdust and cables.

Finding Something

"Before you were, I am."

You sing this inside me, you let me know.
I'm begging for an end to Floating Ophelia.
Something says, "Not so, not so, not so,"
Leaving me hanging on your stage whispers.

All the promises of breaking and entering,
That you would burst into this room and find
A thousand dead and dying Spartans,
And me hiding, alone in my narrow shame.

None of them opened up their mouths to cry,
But I was no match for all my fears,
Writhing and breeding in sawdust and cables
And overwhelmed by the wolf.

Perhaps I should play the Spartan,
Mastering myself, closed mouth, no syllables,
But I am no match for all my fears,
Writhing and breeding in sawdust and cables.

Let Me Ruin Your Life
Let me ruin your life by showing you one color at a time.
I'll tantalize you, drive you to despair.
Let me take your hands and touch them so softly,
Kiss away into the creases, into the places where you think
You used to be.

Your life, your life -- what were you going to do with it, anyway?
Let me damage it, just a little bit, dust you up a bit.
Don't be the tiresome boy who hoards his Halloween candy. Let me give you a welt to remember me by

Look at all the things you'll miss -- Miss Mary Anne,
Good friends at the beach house, your son taking his first steps.
These are the precious things that can be lost,
The fine threads of your suit coming apart.

Nights that should be spent in dreamless sleep, I come to you,
Cracking open the door a space, I squeeze in,
Looking down beside the bedframe and say,
"Let me ruin your life."

Dear Mike,

A letter (formerly on real paper) out of nowhere.

Remember how I used to be so desperate to get a letter out to you that I would grab anything at hand (pizza box, lunch bag), fold it, address it, and stick a stamp on it, to get a message to you?

Having a hard time right now. Work is a joyless treadmill, and my days are filled with anxiety. I was browsing the book Waiting With Gabriel, and it really moved me. It's about a woman whose unborn child is diagnosed with Hypoplastic Left Heart Syndrome. That's what my brother John's son Dominic died of, shortly after birth.