Jacobnever climbed the ladderburning in his dream. Sleeppressed him like a stonein the dust,and whenhe should have risenlike a flame to jointhat choir, he was sickof traveling,and closedhis eyes to the Seraphimascending, unconsciousof the impossible distancesbetween their steps,missedthem mount the

Like Pope Francis, Oliver’s poetry invites readers to let the distractions of our modern, constant motion, hyper-stimulated world fall away from time to time, to enter into that quiet place of contemplation and gratitude that waits in the world all around us.

I want to know what kind of wood and how the hinges will convert the seat into a stall where a monk can stand for a while

A poem for 'Mater et Magistra'

William Carlos Williams rejected the poetic conventions of the time in favor of a distinctly American verse.

Mary Oliver reminds us of the mystery and necessity of poetry.