the deepening ground

Unsurprisingly, the new year did not usher in a slower season of life. Any resolution to visit The Deepening Ground more regularly to leave poetic breadcrumbs that lead out of the suffocating press of modernity failed within days of the calendar flipping to 2026. That’s not to say that I wasn’t writing nor that I stopped reading. I’ve penned two poems since January 1st (one that follows), found a song I never officially released over a decade ago, and began reading Against the Machine by Paul Kingsnorth.

But the days have been full: we survived a wreck the day after New Year’s that totaled our Chevy Suburban, we had eleven windows replaced just days before this wave of bitter cold weather, and nearly all of us shared the flu as the speech and debate season kicked off for my wife and children. And so I belatedly present another poem in the cinquain form (see “Crane Call”) inspired by my first day back to work monitoring students in bus hall (where students gather after arriving prior to the start of the school day). Listen for the echoes of Kingsnorth, T. S. Eliot, Longfellow, and the prophet Jeremiah. And by all means, sing the ancient songs!

The Sixth Day (Meditations from Bus Hall)
by Vincent H. Anastasi 2/1/26 (Updated 3/9/26)

Behold
what the machine
has made of man, unmanned,
unmoored from something more profound,
the sound

of souls
anesthetized,
paralyzed force, blind eyes
mesmerized by artificial
delights;

echoes
in the quiet
of pools where fools still pine
surrounded by vain reflections.
Alas!

Rooted,
natural man
stoops to sing the crocus,
exalts in stars and streams and souls,
made whole

as part
of a people,
part of a place where past
and prayer infuse life with meaning,
dreaming,

singing
the ancient songs,
seeking the ancient paths
where life is real, life’s earnest
and good.

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