tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-67076649715011179042024-03-14T00:43:44.058-05:00EVERY THOUGHT IS A PRAYER Jonathan Voldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01880487385970932785noreply@blogger.comBlogger350125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6707664971501117904.post-67654085328272715522016-12-15T08:56:00.000-06:002016-12-15T08:56:03.145-06:00Moleskin 6.1: Prayer<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>In 1974 a football player took the place of Tricky Dick, and in 1975 a peanut farmer announced that he wanted the job. Jimmy Carter had a brother, Billy, whose own inspirations didn’t get much farther than a beer can, but Jimmy, the governor of Georgia now, was more driven. The football player, meanwhile, seemed bumbling, and not just physically, as Saturday Night Live had fun pointing out, but also inspirationally: on the campaign trail his most prominent position seemed to be to get people to wear a button that said, almost unimaginatively, “WIN.” Whip Inflation Now, it meant, although it never really explained how. All of this was in the papers I was delivering and starting to read more in my twelfth and thirteenth years, but it would be much later that I gave more than a passing notice to one of Carter’s more interesting side comments on the campaign trail, a nod of great respect to a theologian, Reinhold Niebhur. Jonathan Voldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01880487385970932785noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6707664971501117904.post-47872041824894793552016-12-14T08:54:00.000-06:002016-12-14T08:54:05.408-06:00Devotions<i><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>But he answered and said to them, </i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“You give them something to eat.”<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>— Mark 6:37 (NKJV)</i><br />
<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>1<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>You, one and all of you,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>nameless counselors,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>collective observers<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>adding little to the sentence,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>barely part of the plot,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>yet there you are, pronounced<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>in every translation,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>prompting response and<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>preceding the action.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Feed my sheep;<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>as the day begins to wear,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>give them something to eat.<br />
<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>2<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>You, second person,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>the emphasized imperative,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>God’s audience specifically<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>commissioned and directed<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>to a singular assignment:<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>having first observed,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>be ready to serve;<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>as the Lord has called you,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>hear that holy word:<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>feed my sheep;<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>they do not need to go away,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>give them something to eat.<br />
<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>3<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>You, Christ companion,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>one of the twelve<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>on a failed retreat<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>and a broken rest,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>your Sabbath overtaken<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>by a hungry crowd:<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>having seen the need<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>but unsure of the logistics,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>you’ve been firmly turned<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>around to see the deed:<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>feed my sheep;<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>all these sheep without a shepherd,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>give them something to eat.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>4<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>You, fellow traveler,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>being stirred one morning to the life of follow,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>pulled by a pulse to leave hearth and hold,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>drawn to the shepherd’s call and still<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>at the shepherd’s feet as the day grows old:<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>here in the hungry gather,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>observing the surround,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>with an echo in your stomach<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>and the journey on your shoulders,<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>feed my sheep;<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>lie them down in these green pastures,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>give them something to eat.<br />
<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>5<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>You, faithful follower,<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>making your way from practical to miracle,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>turning attention from mortal to divine,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>being taught to pray, to teach, to heal,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>now learn your greater discipline:<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>take these five loaves, these couple of fish<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>let them first be blessed and broken, then<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>give thanks for what you’re given<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>and let the people have their fill:<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>feed my sheep;<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>with all of your devotion,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>give them something to eat.<br />
<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>6<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>You, just as you are,<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>one of the sheep<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>having come this far,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>knowing the hunger<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>and needing the rest, <br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>you give it all to Jesus<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>and Jesus answers<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>with a bit of a challenge,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>a bit of a test<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>putting you front and center<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>to be God’s hands,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>to show God’s love,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>to prepare the feast:<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>feed my sheep;<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>for the love of God, they’re hungry,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>give them something to eat.Jonathan Voldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01880487385970932785noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6707664971501117904.post-35303460905223018272016-12-13T08:54:00.000-06:002016-12-13T08:54:01.599-06:00Mots du Jour<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>This is my way of calling it a day,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Of sorting through immediate memories<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>To find what's worth repeating, and by these,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>My random stops and starts along the way,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Remembering the journey. Every day<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Its own adventure, every moment seized<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>A glimpse of further possibilities,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Each orbit spinning something more to say.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>So here's my say, my call, my mots du jour,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>My journal written of its own accord,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>My record entered into history,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The story of my life, my private tour,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>My positure, my confluence ---each word,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Like time itself, as it occurs to me.Jonathan Voldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01880487385970932785noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6707664971501117904.post-46188151925354362702016-12-12T08:52:00.000-06:002016-12-12T08:52:03.965-06:00Profile<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Don’t be a cipher, someone said.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Show us the face that hides behind<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The poems you have let us read,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Give us a glimpse beyond the mind<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Of the poet who has edited<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>His life down into metered lines,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Whose given his blog a leveled screed<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>But nothing past the words he’s signed.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Here, then, you have my picture: See<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The aging and the fattening<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Of fifty years, the lazy eye<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>That looks like it is focusing<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>On things in the periphery;<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>See what’s in need of ironing,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The fashions that have passed me by,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The cry for different coloring,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>And there is more, of course. I could<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Divulge my sordid history<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Of marriage leading to divorce,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Of education forcing me<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>To compromises, of a good<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Career besmirched with obloquy.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>But there is always more, of course,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Than who I would pretend to be.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>With marriage, I have progeny<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>With stories of their own to tell;<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>With education, I have learned<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The fathoms of my earthly well<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Of ignorance; and should you see<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The merchandise I try to sell,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>For every dollar fairly earned,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>My reputation’s mostly held.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>But turn away from all of this.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>What should it matter what I wear<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Or how I always seem to look<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Or just how well I comb my hair,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>If I’m a father with no wife,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>More lawyer than you’d have me be<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Or lead an unenlightened life?<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>For now, you have my poetry.Jonathan Voldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01880487385970932785noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6707664971501117904.post-64188135409157030062016-12-11T08:51:00.000-06:002016-12-11T08:51:13.478-06:00The Source<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><i>from Walled Gardens</i><br />
<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>God takes earth and forms our body,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> takes wind and forms our speech<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> gives reason to our minds,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> inspiration to our hearts,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> invitation to our souls,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> cause to our creation.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>God gives theme to every generation<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> and truth to every corruption;<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>God is the source from which everything comes,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> the place to which everything returns:<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Good proceeds from God and evil departs from God,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> as God created the spirit of each,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> good and evil in every soul,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> as God authors the soul,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> originates the mind,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> makes each of us something out of nothing<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> and exalts us, gives us life out of the void.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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Jonathan Voldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01880487385970932785noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6707664971501117904.post-74110394651105024792016-12-10T08:50:00.000-06:002016-12-10T08:50:03.764-06:00Reflective Study of Wallace Stevens' Man and Bottle<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The mind is the great poem of winter, the man<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> The heart is the rose and ice of spring, the child<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Who, to find what will suffice,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> Who, accepting everything,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Destroys romantic tenements<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> Creates the real poetry<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Of rose and ice<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> <br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> Of life<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>In the land of war. More than the man, it is<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> In a state of grace. More than a child, it is<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>A man with the fury of the race of men,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> A child full of the innocence of youth,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>A light at the centre of many lights<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> A rising sun, a breaking light,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>A man at the centre of men.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> A child at the edge of truth.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>It has to content the reason concerning war,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> It never questions the cause or concern of grace,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>It has to persuade that war is a part of itself,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> It never argues that grace is out of place, it is<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>A manner of thinking, a mode<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> A matter of feeling, the core<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Of destroying, as the mind destroys,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> Of creating, so the heart creates<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>An aversion, as the world is averted<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> A convergence, as the dawn converges<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>From an old delusion, an old affair with the sun,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> To a new awareness, a new affair with the sun,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>An impossible aberration with the moon,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> The inevitable deviation from the moon,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>A grossness of peace.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> The end of night. <br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>It is not the snow that is the quill, the page.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> It is not the rose that is the dawn, the spring.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The poem lashes more fiercely than the wind,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> The ice breaks, the winter melts away<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>As the mind, to find what will suffice, destroys<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> As the heart, accepting everything, creates<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Romantic tenements of rose and ice.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> The real poetry of life.Jonathan Voldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01880487385970932785noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6707664971501117904.post-39766617160323318662016-12-09T08:50:00.000-06:002016-12-09T08:50:01.679-06:00TWL, Lines 427-432: Shored Against My Ruins<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>427<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>London Bridge is falling down falling down falling down<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>428<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Poi s'ascose nel foco che gli affina<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>429<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Quando fiam ceu chelidon — O swallow swallow<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>430<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Le Prince d'Aquitaine à la tour abolie<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>431<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>These fragments I have shored against my ruins<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>432<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Why then Ile fit you. Hieronymo's mad againe.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>427. LONDON BRIDGE IS FALLING DOWN is the opening of a nursery rhyme first referenced in The London Chaunticleres (1657, Anon.). It also alludes back to line 22 (a heap of broken images), 62 (crowd flowing over the bridge), 173 (the river’s tent is broken) and 374 (falling towers). See also John Henry Mackay, Anarchy (1888), for a similarly toned answer to the question just posed in line 426, “Shall I at least set my lands in order?”:<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“‘Wreck of all order,’ cry the multitude,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>‘Art thou, & war & murder’s endless rage.’<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>O, let them cry. To them that ne'er have striven<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The truth that lies behind a word to find,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>To them the word's right meaning was not given.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>They shall continue blind among the blind.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>But thou, O word, so clear, so strong, so true,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Thou sayest all for which I for goal have taken.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I give thee to the future! Thine secure<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>When each at least unto himself shall waken.”<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>428. ARNAUT DANIEL: Eliot: “V. Purgatorio, XXVI, 148.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>'Ara vos prec per aquella valor<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>'que vos guida al som de l'escalina,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>'sovegna vos a temps de ma dolor.'<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Poi s'ascose nel foco che gli affina.” <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>See Dante, Purgatorio 26.145-148:<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“Therefore do I implore you, by that power<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Which guides you to the summit of the stairs,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Be mindful to assuage my suffering!’<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Then hid him in the fire that purifies them.”<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Dante attributed the first three lies of this passage, written in Old Occitan, to Provencal poet Arnaut Daniel, whom Dante called the “better craftsman,” as Eliot would in turn call Ezra Pound (see note 0.2).Daniel says this as he follows Italian poet Guido Guinizelli, who had “vanished in the fire.” (26.134). See Dante, Purgatorio 26:115-148:<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"O brother," said he, "he whom I point out,"<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>And here he pointed at a spirit in front,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"Was of the mother tongue a better smith.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Verses of love and proses of romance,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>He mastered all; and let the idiots talk,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Who think the Lemosin surpasses him.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>To clamour more than truth they turn their faces,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>And in this way establish their opinion,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Ere art or reason has by them been heard.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Thus many ancients with Guittone did,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>From cry to cry still giving him applause,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Until the truth has conquered with most persons.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Now, if thou hast such ample privilege<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>'Tis granted thee to go unto the cloister<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Wherein is Christ the abbot of the college,<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>To him repeat for me a Paternoster,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>So far as needful to us of this world,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Where power of sinning is no longer ours."<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Then, to give place perchance to one behind,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Whom he had near, he vanished in the fire<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>As fish in water going to the bottom. <br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I moved a little tow'rds him pointed out,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>And said that to his name my own desire<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>An honourable place was making ready.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>He of his own free will began to say:<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> 'Tan m' abellis vostre cortes deman,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Que jeu nom' puesc ni vueill a vos cobrire;<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Jeu sui Arnaut, que plor e vai chantan;<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Consiros vei la passada folor,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>E vei jauzen lo jorn qu' esper denan.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Ara vus prec per aquella valor,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Que vus condus al som de la scalina,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Sovenga vus a temprar ma dolor.' ◦<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Then hid him in the fire that purifies them.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>◦ So pleases me your courteous demand,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I cannot and I will not hide me from you.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I am Arnaut, who weep and singing go;<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Contrite I see the folly of the past,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>And joyous see the hoped-for day before me.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Therefore do I implore you, by that power<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Which guides you to the summit of the stairs,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Be mindful to assuage my suffering!<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>429. SWALLOW SWALLOW: Eliot: “V. Pervigilium Veneris. Cf. Philomela in Parts II and III.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>See Tiberianus, The Vigil of Venus 88-93 (400 BC, tr. Sir Arthur Thomas Quiller-Couch 1912):<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“Ah, loitering Summer! Say when For me shall be broken the charm, that I chirp with the swallow again? I am old; I am dumb; I have waited to sing till Apollo withdrew—So Amyclae a moment was mute, and for ever a wilderness grew. Now learn ye to love who loved never—-now ye who have loved, love anew, To-morrow!—-to-morrow!” <br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Amyclae was the ancient Spartan home of the Sanctuary of Apollo and the grave of Hyacinth. An annual festival, the Hyacinthia, celebrated Hyacinth’s death and rebirth. See note 36 for the legend of Hyacinth.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“Say when... that I chirp with the swallow again?” is the passage cited from Tiberianus’s poem, and Eliot also ties this to the post-rape transformation of Philomela and her sister into a nightingale and a swallow(see note 99).<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>See also Algernon Charles Swinburne, Itylus (1864): “Swallow, my sister, O sister swallow.” Swinburne’s poem combines the story of Philomela with the story of Itylus referred to in Homer, Odyssey 19: 524-534, in which Aedon is turned into a nightingale after accidentally killing her son Itylus. See also Alfred, Lord Tennyson, The Princess; A Melody (1884): “O Swallow, Swallow, flying, flying south,” and compare this with Countess Marie going south for the winter (line 18).<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>430. MAN OF SHADOWS. Eliot: “V. Gerard de Nerval, Sonnet El Desdichado.”<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>See El Desdichado (1853; tr. J. Vold): “Once Prince of Aquitaine, my tower undone...” My full translation of The Loser:<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“I’m a man of shadows, widowed, unconsoled,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Once Prince of Aquitaine, my tower undone,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>My star departed; even my stellar strings<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Are strummed with Melancholy’s blackened sun.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>From this grave darkness, you who once consoled me<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Bring me back to the mountains by the sea,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Return the flower of pleasure to my heart,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The grapevine and the rose of Italy.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Once Love and once Apollo, king and rogue,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>My forehead wears the lipstick of the Queen,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>My dreams have tarried where the Siren sings.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I’ve conquered Acheron to hell and back again;<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I’ve resonated on these Orphean strings<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>From saintly sighs to pixilated cries.”<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Secondary allusions abound here, to the hyancinth flower (line 36), Jean Verdenal’s death in Italy (note 42), the siren songs of Ariel and the River nymphs (note 266), the woman fiddling on her hair (note 378), the journey across Acheron (see Dante*,Inferno 3.76-78) and, in the cited line, the tower undone (note 374). De Nerval, a close friend of Charles Baudelaire (see note 76), was also known to have fits of madness; see line 432, and see Arthur Symons, The Symbolist Movement in Literature (1899):<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“...with Gérard there was no pose; and when, one day, he was found in the Palais-Royal, leading a lobster at the end of a blue ribbon (because, he said, it does not bark, and knows the secrets of the sea), the visionary had simply lost control of his visions, and had to be sent to Dr. Blanche's asylum at Montmartre.”<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>432. HAMLET AND HIERONYMO: Eliot*: “V. Kyd's Spanish Tragedy.” See Thomas Kyd, The Spanish Tragedy, or Hieronymo’s Mad Again (1592), 4.1-5, where Hieronymo speaks:<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“Why then, I'll fit you; say no more.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>When I was young, I gave my mind<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>And plied myself to fruitless poetry;<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Which though it profit the professor naught,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Yet is it passing pleasing to the world.”<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>See Eliot, Hamlet and His Problems (note 417), citing Kyd’s play as a source for Shakespeare’s Hamlet. In trying to interpret and understand the present poem, one might transpose what Eliot wrote about Shakespeare and Hamlet. On interpretation: “Qua work of art, the work of art cannot be interpreted; there is nothing to interpret... for “interpretation” the chief task is the presentation of relevant historical facts which the reader is not presumed to know.”<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>And on understanding: “We must simply admit that here Shakespeare tackled a problem which proved too much for him. ...We should have to understand things that Shakespeare did not understand himself.”<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Yet even in a lack of understanding there can be appreciation, and Eliot, in ceding to “the peace that passeth understanding” admits as much (see note 434). Even his final “shantih” comment, he says, is a “feeble translation” of the concept; and yet, incomprehensible as it may be, it is still something for this poet, and every poet and reader, to strive for. Jonathan Voldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01880487385970932785noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6707664971501117904.post-54020762182758961362016-12-08T08:18:00.000-06:002016-12-08T08:18:06.501-06:00Moleskin 5.10: Rivers Of Hope And Worry<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>There are times when I look at my eighteen year old daughter or my fifteen year old son that I wish I could jump ahead a few years just to see how everything turns out. I worry for them sometimes, but more often it is fatherly pride that sparks this wish. I am eager to see their lives unfold, and my wishes become even more hopeful as I think further ahead, to years I become increasingly less likely to see. This is not the best way to tell a story, though. I am eager now to tell you what would happen when I was fourteen, and twenty three, and twenty six ----not to mention those years ahead after my son and daughter were born. Of course I did not know any of these things in the summer and fall of twelve, though, and as I sat and contemplated the stream before me my thoughts were filled more with worry than eagerness, more worry than a wandersome boy should be troubled with, less eagerness than one would expect along the edge of stability. But that’s where I was.Jonathan Voldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01880487385970932785noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6707664971501117904.post-52806339735293084602016-12-07T08:17:00.000-06:002016-12-07T08:17:11.253-06:00Tales, Part IV<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Come you lost Atoms, to your Center draw, and be the Mirror,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Reflecting God’s light in the contemplation...<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Come you without feather, uplift your souls, leave gravity behind<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>And give wing to the lofty aspiration...<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>But even as angels to earth will return, send back your songs<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Of faith and truth and all the proclamations...<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I sing, Simorgh, my own reflections of God the great I Am<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Through the Son of Man, my only known salvation...<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>But I will turn my self to selflessness, and to the world will sing<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>In ghazals of old, this nascent explanation of thirty birds.Jonathan Voldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01880487385970932785noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6707664971501117904.post-62628592955172223162016-12-06T08:16:00.000-06:002016-12-06T08:16:00.159-06:00Tales, Part III<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>And so on speaks the hoopoe, for every bird another tale<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>And along the way he dedicates a word for every vale:<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Valley of the Quest, of zeal, of all that a heart can achieve;<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Vale of Love, of spark and fire, desire for the heart to move;<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Vale of Insight, to crave, to hunger, to have all truths revealed;<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Vale of Detachment, of abandon, Joseph thrown into a well;<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Vale of Unity, through faith, the purest essence of the soul;<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Vale of Awe, doubting doubt and finding the unbelievable;<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Vale of Poverty, of emptiness, what words cannot express,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Beyond all selfish acts, the final cup of nothingness;<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Until at last, through zeal and spark and craving and abandon,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>through faith and awe and selflessness they climb the final mountain.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>And they will find their king...Jonathan Voldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01880487385970932785noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6707664971501117904.post-22365554609684246012016-12-05T08:16:00.000-06:002016-12-05T08:16:07.865-06:00Tales, Part II<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The hoopoe tells of an arduous flight through seven valleys<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>With tales of trials along the way, for every bird a tale:<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Tale of the nightingale in love with love, the thorniest rose;<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Tale of the peacock who clings to the trappings of paradise;<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Tale of the parrot who seeks its eternal existence here;<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Tale of the duck looking in ponds for purity to appear;<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Tale of the homa, shadow-slave to the vanity of kings;<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Tale of the falcon, blinded by the status its master brings;<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Tale of the heron in a lonely place, gazing at the sea;<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Tale of the owl seeking treasure, finding anxiety;<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Tale of the sparrow of humility and hypocrisy;<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Tale of the phoenix caught in a cycle, ever born to die;<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Tale of the partridge who lives for love of gems that never move;<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Tale of a lovebird chained forever to superficial love;<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Tale after tale, revealing how through every foibled fable<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>We see ourselves burn in the conflagration of thirty birds.Jonathan Voldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01880487385970932785noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6707664971501117904.post-65652890943927748302016-12-04T08:15:00.001-06:002016-12-04T08:15:56.448-06:00Tales, Part I<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The simple truth falls in a single feather to thirty birds<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>And God is revealed to the congregation...<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>A single feather floats down from a mountain far away<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>And faith takes its hold in the speculation...<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>A thousand faces, a thousand creeds, as many excuses:<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>We see ourselves burn in the conflagration...<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>And who would believe the outcome of this gathering babel?<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Consensus is born of determination...<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>In unified purpose, the kingless resolve to find their king,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>To put face to feathery form, the nation of thirty birds.Jonathan Voldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01880487385970932785noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6707664971501117904.post-27507625069740953262016-12-03T08:14:00.000-06:002016-12-04T08:14:51.801-06:00Tales of Simorgh, Revisited<i><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>O swallows, swallows, poems are not</i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The point. Finding again the world,</i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>That is the point...</i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>— Howard Nemerov</i><br />
<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>This is the culmination of my Thirty Birds collection, a poem presented in modified ghazal style reflecting the 12th century Persian legend of Simorgh, king of the birds. The various species of birds in the world agreed that they needed to find their king, but most species, being bound to their various natures, are unable to commit to the harrowing journey. Only thirty birds remain to climb the final mountain, where each bird sees the king, Simorgh, in a different light, yet Simorgh is king of all of them.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The original story, by Farid ud-Din Attar, is an epic poem that runs for 4,500 lines. My poem is barely one percent of this, but I hope I have captured that which has intrigued me the most about this tale. We birds are flawed as we make our way to God, and many of us will not make it to the end. We are also biased in our perceptions, and even as we approach the palace, we only see what we are able to see. And who, ultimately, is right? All of us, and none of us, too. We see only a dark reflection for now, but one day we will see face to face.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
Jonathan Voldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01880487385970932785noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6707664971501117904.post-1286149497175998302016-12-02T08:10:00.000-06:002016-12-04T08:13:14.855-06:00TWL, Lines 424-426: The Fisher King<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>424<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I sat upon the shore<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>425<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Fishing, with the arid plain behind me<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>426<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Shall I at least set my lands in order?<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>425. THE FISHER KING: Eliot: “V. Weston, From Ritual to Romance; chapter on the Fisher King.”<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The fisher king sitting on a river bank, and the allusion of one who was gravely injured and, with his entire country, desperately in need of healing, is a prevailing image in this poem. See Weston, Ritual to Romance 9: 117, 129:<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“...he was called the Fisher King because of his devotion to the pastime of fishing ...If the Grail story be based upon a Life ritual the character of the Fisher King is of the very essence of the tale, and his title, so far from being meaningless, expresses, for those who are at pains to seek, the intention and object of the perplexing whole.”<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>But the image of this fisherman keeps reappearing in different shades and colors. See him weeping at lines 182-184, then sitting alongside a rat in the mud at lines 185-189, then musing upon the king’s wreck at lines 190-192. Later, fishmen are lounging at noon at line 263. Eliot directly compared the Fisher King to the Tarot deck’s three-staved merchant who stands on a seaside cliff and watches ships pass by (see notes 46 and 51), and he also imagined the fisherman as a sailor coming home from the sea in the evening (see note 221). Finally, at line 425, with the dry land behind him and the water in front of him, the Fisher King considers whether it might be time to set things right.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>See Isaiah 38:1: <br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“Thus saith the LORD, Set thine house in order: for thou shalt die, and not live.”<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>This was Isaiah’s counsel to a mortally sick King Hezekiah, which led the king to weep.Jonathan Voldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01880487385970932785noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6707664971501117904.post-78399569918808264212016-12-01T08:09:00.000-06:002016-12-04T08:10:41.285-06:00Moleskin 5.9: Stability River<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>But the clean slate was less than it would seem. The grades did not say anything about where I had been or where I was going or who I wanted to be. I still had a little Huck Finn in me, for one thing, with rivers to explore and rebellions to consider. The house, it was nice, but it was still not much more than where I happened to live, and who could say, after that summer of twelve, where thirteen and fourteen would find me. And yes, it looked like we would have stability now with no more being single-parented at the looms of poverty, no more unincorporated neighborhoods full of dinner smells and dumpsters, no more weekends at the Dolphin Motel. But I was not, will never be ready to write my dad out of the story, so there I was on the banks of Stability River, doing a lot of thinking.Jonathan Voldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01880487385970932785noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6707664971501117904.post-48212552468369144692016-11-30T08:08:00.000-06:002016-12-04T08:09:05.225-06:00Stone Heart<i><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>(Open with the opening rift from “Little Queenie”)</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>(*Gradually add chorus tags throughout: “Ev’ry day, baby, every day”)</i><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I’ve got a stone heart, baby,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>That’s telling me your love me every day.*<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>And that lucky coin you flipped me<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Says you’re right there with me always.*<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I get your verse of the week<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>With a personal note;<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>You put the word of God in front of me<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Backed up by what you wrote.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>You keep that stone heart beating<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Like it’s never gonna go away.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<br />
<i><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>(Continue with the opening rift from “Roll Over Beethoven”)</i><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I’ve got this stone heart you gave me<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>That’s engraved with words of everyday love*<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>With a message I can feel<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>And a substance I can’t get enough of.*<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>When you showed me your heart<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>You also sang me a song<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>And every time I hear it<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I just want to sing along.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>You keep that stone heart rocking me<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>And rolling me in everyday love.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<i><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>(Continue with solo rift from “Black Dog”)</i><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Stone heart - That’s the way you love me<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Stone heart - Every day, every day<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Stone heart - You love me like a rock<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Stone heart - And you’re never going away<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Stone heart - Rock steady<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Stone heart - Rock and roll<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Stone heart, stone heart, stone heart, stone heart....<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I’ve got a Satchmo melody<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>That’s running through my head all the time*<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>And I think to myself<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>What a wonderful way you make it rhyme*<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I get your wake-up messages<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>So blessed and bright<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>And your sweet dream wishes<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>In the dark, sacred night<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>You’ve got my stone heart singing<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>And its memorizing Every line.<br />
<br />
<i><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>(Continue with upbeat sample of “What a Wonderful World”)</i><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Stone heart - That’s the way you love me<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Stone heart - Every day, every day<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Stone heart - You love me like a rock<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Stone heart - And you’re never going away<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Stone heart - Rock steady<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Stone heart - Rock and roll<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Stone heart - Ev’ry body got to get stoned!<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>You’ve got your stone heart in front of me<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>That’s telling me you love me every day.*<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>It’s a heart that can’t be broken<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>And the letters never fade away.*<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>And I love you the same,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>And if you’re ever in doubt,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>You can hear my own heart beating<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>What this song is all about.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>You’ve got my stone heart, baby,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>And it’s telling you I’m here to stay.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>You’ve got my stone heart beating<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Like it’s never gonna go away.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> <i> </i></span><i>(Slow rollout)</i><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>You’ve got my stone heart in front of you<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>And it’s telling you I love you every day<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>...ev’ry day, ev’ry day...Jonathan Voldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01880487385970932785noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6707664971501117904.post-19724918064139529422016-11-29T08:05:00.000-06:002016-12-04T08:07:07.340-06:00Walking Song, Revisited<i><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>to the tune of Arcade Fire's Modern Man</i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>(see August 10 for the extended metaphor)</i><br />
<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I am the man, and this is my dog.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>What would I hear if this dog could talk?<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>What would I say if I were the dog?<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>What would I think? What would I know?<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Where would I run to? How far would I go?<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>And would I run away if I were the dog?<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>God is the man and I am the dog.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I’m not the man I once thought I was.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>He seems so far away, and I don't know what to say,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>But I'll stretch this leash from here to heaven,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>And I'll sometimes think I know the way<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>And I'll take the paths that I’ve been given<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>And I'm learning, I'm learning what to say.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I am the man. This is my dog.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I try to listen when we go walk.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>We walk every day,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Just keep walking, me and my dog.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>You may think that you know,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>but you don’t understand<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>the walk of man and dog.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Whether dog, whether man,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>you're just doing what you can<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>on the walk of dog and man.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Prayer is a leash, and this is my prayer,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Drawing me close to the man up there.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>He's not so far away,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>And I'm working on what to say.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>God is the man, but I am the one<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Who walks with him when the day is done,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>And with each breaking dawn<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I am still the one<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>To stretch this leash from here to heaven,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>And to sometimes think I know the way,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>And to take the paths that I’ve been given,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>And I'm learning, I'm learning how to pray.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>...but you don’t understand<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>the walk of man and dog.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Whether dog, whether man,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>you're just doing what you can<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>on the walk of dog and man.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>You may think you know,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>but you'll never understand.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Whether dog, whether man,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>you're just doing what you can<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>on the walk of dog and man.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The dog and man...<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The dog and man...<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The dog and man...Jonathan Voldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01880487385970932785noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6707664971501117904.post-82273968976467812022016-11-28T08:04:00.000-06:002016-12-04T08:05:38.533-06:00Sing sing<i><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Melodia, revisited, with Stevie Wonder co-opted:</i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>To the extended tune of Wonder’s Have A Talk With God</i><br />
<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Lowly sparrow, you in your stubble field<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>are God’s example and encouragement<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>to stand behind a thinly-feathered shield<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>with nothing more as an accouterment<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>than simple faith in what tomorrow brings:<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>all things are set before you, every seed<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>and sunray<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>comes delivered without strings;<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>God gives you everything you need<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>But gives you more, the time and voice to sing!<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Sing boldly, bird, across the stubble field,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>show us your color and your gilded wing,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>your air of confidence, that all may yield<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>and pause, to see what stands behind the fable<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>of fearlessness and food at every table,<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>comes delivered without strings;<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>God gives you everything you need.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Sing, sing<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Sing, Sing<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Sing, sparrow, sing<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The sparrow chirps, “But who am I to be<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>the center of attention? I believe<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>your story: God is good, even to me,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>and daily God provides, and I receive<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>abundantly beyond what I deserve,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>but that’s the point. You call on me to sing<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>for all I’m worth;<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>you’re telling me to serve<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>as if my voice made me acceptable,<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>but take a look at me:<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>my feathers are the shades of sand and dirt,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>my wings are short and my ability<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>to fly will never take me far from earth,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>and now you’re asking me to join the choir<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>of angels, as if song could take me higher?”<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>you’re telling me to serve<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>as if my voice made me acceptable,<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Sing, sing<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Sing, sing<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Sing, sparrow, sing<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Yes, little sparrow, by your very word<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>you are acceptable; indeed, you were before<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>the first note of your song was ever heard,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>but you will please your maker even more<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>if you will sing. Sing loud for all you’re worth,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>but louder still for all that you’ve been given:<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>seed and stubble from the earth,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>air and sunshine sent from heaven,<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>and all the camouflage and coloring<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>designed to keep you safely unrevealed,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>and all the intricacies of your wing<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>designed to let you navigate the field.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>O sparrow, sparrow, know that you are gifted<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>and by your gift the whole world is uplifted.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>...comes delivered without strings;<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>God gives you everything you need<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Sing, sing<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Sing, sing<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Sing, sparrow, sing<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>But you will please your maker even more<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>if you will sing. Sing loud for all you’re worth,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>but louder still for all that you’ve been given:<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>seed and stubble from the earth,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>air and sunshine sent from heaven,<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>comes delivered without strings;<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>God gives you everything you need<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>and He’s telling you to serve<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>because His gift makes you Acceptable,<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>and He’s telling me to serve<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>because my voice makes me Acceptable.Jonathan Voldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01880487385970932785noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6707664971501117904.post-76878862823011516412016-11-27T08:03:00.000-06:002016-12-04T08:04:24.660-06:00Determination: Boston Strong<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><i>Madison, November 6, 2015</i><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>This is it, kids! The day before the morning of the moment I’ve been aiming for. Not quite a forever moment, not as big as birth or citizenship, but surely as significant as a college degree or a career launch. I’ve given this my last three years, after all, and now, tomorrow, I’m going to cross that stage and get what I’ve got coming to me. Many others, hundreds if not thousands, will earn the title with me tomorrow, but that will not diminish the accomplishment. Call us Marathoners, and by that medal that says “Finisher,” consider us all winners. That, folks, is the magic of the marathon: only a very small number will be running for first place, but all of us will be proud of our personal achievement.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>At the end of this race there will be a bell that runners can ring if they set a new “personal best.” I already know I’ll be ringing it, because just finishing, which I will do even if I have to crawl the final stretch, will be the best I have ever done. In fact, if I keep at this, I can imagine my second and third and fourth race each being a reason unto itself to ring that bell. Each new race will bring me to a new level. Ring it up! I will never have run at the age I have then reached. Ring it! I will, with each race, have conquered a new city or a new course. Ring them bells! <br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I know that not every runner will reach that finish line, but this too is the legendary spirit of the marathon, that even if one stumbles, the moment is big enough that eventually, by any means and to whatever extent possible, there will be a victory to declare. After miles and hours, indeed months and years of running to this point, the forward moment will carry that journeying soul, in spirit if not in fact, to get to that bell and ring it!<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>This is what that most famous running town meant when they declared themselves “Boston Strong.” The year was 2013. The fastest runners had already crossed the finish line but there were still thousands of runners behind them when, at the sick whim of a couple of miscreant brothers, a nail bomb went off near the end of the course. Several runners were killed, many more were injured. Many who were able to run on were prevented from crossing the finish line because police had <br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>to take safety measures, and for the briefest instant it looked like the bombers had achieved what they perhaps had intended, to not only take the lives of a random few but to kill the spirits of a city and a country.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Ah, but those bombers had no idea how big that spirit was. There would be community after this, and a resolve to keep running in 2013 and onward into 2014. There would be mourning for those who had fallen permanently, but then, in their honor, there would be many more who would run forward and ring than bell for them all.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Along the course of Boston’s race is a statue paying tribute to one of Boston’s most enduring runners, Johnny A. Kelley. Johnny entered his first Boston Marathon at the age of twenty, but he did not finish. Discouraged, he did not run for several more years, and when he tried again, he failed again. A momentum was beginning to build, though, and the next year he was back, and he finished this time, then repeated the achievement the next year and the year after that. When he was twenty seen, he won the race, first place, but perhaps even more impressive is what happened next: he kept running, every year for a total of sixty one years, with only one other run not completed because of a race day injury. He ran his last full race at the age of 84. His statue, called “Young at Heart,” shows two runners, with Johnny the elder holding up the hand of Johnny the younger, declaring victory across time. Ring them bells, Johnny, one for every year!<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>But where was I? Oh yes, accountability. Eight chapters in eight days, and anecdotal ninth in the dog days of summer and then, suddenly I am on the eve of my first big race. Tomorrow. Twenty six point two miles, all in a morning run. <br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>And where did the time go? The training, like the journal writing, was less than perfect. I did progress to a 22 mile run to weeks ago, but I had once had higher aspirations. It was my intent to reach 26 miles three weeks ahead of race day, to consistently run five runs a week and to hit a 9:30 average pace for a four hour run. It became harder to fit the longer runs in, though, and even short runs were a challenge during some very active work weeks. I will still finish this effort, but with an adjusted goal of four and a half hours, and I am resigned to the possibility of a little walking towards the end. <br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I had higher goals for this journal, too, but maybe this is as it should be. I though I might have completed a definitive, publishable marathon book, but I know I’m not quite there. I’ll keep writing, though, just as I will keep running. Today, in fact, just before I sat down to write this final paragraph, I signed up for the next one: the Grandma’s Marathon in Duluth, Minnesota, June 2016. And you can hold me to that.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> <i> </i></span><i>I’m afraid to stop running.</i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>It feels too good.</i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I want to stay alive.</i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>— Johnny A. Kelley, age 70</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I believe God made me for a purpose, but he also made me fast!</i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>And when I run I feel his pleasure. </i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>― Eric Liddell, as quoted in Chariots of Fire (1981) </i>Jonathan Voldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01880487385970932785noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6707664971501117904.post-23109105723168830552016-11-26T08:01:00.000-06:002016-12-04T08:03:21.836-06:00Anecdote: On My Way To The Run<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Other than the Thirteen Mile poem from last year and not counting the preface, added later, everything in the first eight chapters of this journal, fifty two pages of moleskin scrawl, was written over the course of eight days, one chapter a day. A hundred days later I m beginning chapter nine. The run goes on and the goal remains. But what happened? Yes, I am still running, and there are stories to tell. <br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>After the 5K run with my niece and nephew, I ran a half marathon in Milwaukee, then another in Mackinaw City, Michigan, then back to Madison for a third half, where the preface notes were inspired. I also trained wherever I found myself over the summer: in San Jose, California, along the Guadalupe River; in St. Louis, Missouri, along the Meramec; outside of Grand Rapids, Minnesota, up and down the Sugar Hills; into the farmland west of Champaign, Illinois; back and forth between New Glarus and Monticello, Wisconsin; and along the James River in Richmond, Virginia. I found trails near home, too: up and down beachfront bluffs in Lake Forest, through the streets of Waukegan and then, my most regular route, a ten mile stretch along Skokie Highway.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I went through four pairs of shoes, trading my well-worn Adidas for a pair of cushy Brooks after Milwaukee, then switching to Saucony shoes after the Brooks started cutting into the top of my foot, then a pair of backup New Balance lightweights after the Sauconys couldn’t dry out fast enough after hot summer runs. I gave the Brooks away to Joey, another nephew, who found a more comfortable fit in them.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I ran with family: brother Dan, visiting from Prague; sister Anne, when I visited Champaign. I also encouraged and was encouraged by nephew Joey, Dan’s oldest; niece Allison, who is also running her first marathon this fall in Des Moines; and nephew Tilo, a sub-five minute miler, talking about trying a half marathon next spring.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I stayed healthy. Mid-stride I was stung by a bee once, but that was the worst of it. As the miles increase it’s been tougher to keep the stamina up, but legs are in place, feet aren’t complaining and muscles have been recovering quickly. And I’m doing what I can to keep in shape: <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>learning to run with a water bottle; starting a pre-run routine of planks, lunges and squats; maintaining my weight, with more attention now to supplementing the calories than limiting them. And the run goes on and the goal remains.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Distances are increasing, too: There are still over two months to go before marathon day, and I’m up to 18 miles with some walking, 17 miles all running. The half marathon times over the summer have been up and down but balanced: 1:52 in Milwaukee, 2:14 in Mackinaw (a trail run with an extra end stretch), 1:53 in Madison.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>It was my intention, though, at the beginning of this journal, to write daily about running. I did not expect to run every day and had generally settled on a 3-4-5 standard: three runs a week was passing, four was progressing, five was taking it seriously. But I had hoped that daily writing would serve to encourage the run and keep holding me accountable. In one sense, it did, I suppose. These first eight chapters have been read and reread, even rewritten once with an editor’s eye and onto cleaner pages, and the words have kept me going. My own words have held me accountable, the words of others have continually inspired me and the word of the run keeps resonating. The run goes on and the goal remains.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>It is too bad that I couldn’t have been more disciplined as a writer these last few months, even as I learned that every run, every day, has a story to tell. Surely there is more to say about that bee sting or the trail run or the runs with my sister or my brother. So much could be said about the backdrops across the country, each giving me different stories to tell. Maybe, in time, I will share some of these experiences, but it will be harder now, with time having passed.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Today, though, coinciding with my return to the journal, I have a story to top all others. It was a beautiful day. I set a good pace and reached a new distance. Along the way I also got hit by a car - but the run goes on and the goal remains!<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Let me tell this one moment by moment. I woke up at 5:30 am out of habit, and it was still dark out: daylight hours are waning quicker than I want them to. This gave me time to hydrate and do a few stretches and, as it turns out, to start working on the first part of this journal entry, summarizing the last three months. I wasn’t out the door until 6:45, but the run started right in front of my house. It was a perfect 55º outside, dry and not too windy, and steady cool and cloudy was the forecast. I set out on my usual path, a biking and running trail that passes just across the street from home. It runs north a mile, then forks with a three mile straightaway or, my preference lately, a longer route to th west that loop back southward for an overall twelve mile path. I have been building up my distance here, not yet getting to the end of the trail before turning around, but I can see that this trail will make the approaching marathon distances easy to manage.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>My goal today was to run 18 miles, meaning a turnaround after 9 miles, or maybe a little longer southward with a three mile shortcut option on the way home. My pace goal, with the cool temperature and a good buildup routine in the last few days, was to keep under 9 minute miles for at least four miles, then sub-9:30 for another 6 or 7 miles. It is good to understate these goals within goals because it feels so much better when you blow them away. By comparison, I ran a 7:30 first mile yesterday, but that was a shorter run overall. And so it went: mile 1: 8:10. Mile 2: 7:50. Mile 3: 7:55. My pace slipped a bit a I went, but I didn’t slow to 9 minutes until mile 10 and I kept it under 9:30 for miles 11 and 12. So far, so good!<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I kept going past the nine mile turnaround point, deciding a good walk at the end wouldn’t be a bad thing, and at mile 12 I reached the end of the trail. It was not the absolute end, though, if I didn’t mind alternative paths: the dedicated off-street runner/biker trail now yielded to sidewalks and a few busy intersections. I was on Lake-Cook Road, roughly ten miles south and two miles west of home, and instead of turning around I decided to veer east into these alternative paths, expecting to eventually find quieter northbound roads back home.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>This meant crossing a big six-lane intersection first, then crossing two ramps to an underpassing expressway, but it was now 8:30 on a Saturday, still relatively quiet, and the stoplights and traffic were all in my favor. I didn’t even have to stop. My pace was still sub 9:30, so I could see a new PB —personal best —ahead for the 13.1 mile split. Split! Wow, my distances are actually getting to this point: not just a half marathon plus a little more, but one stage and then the next. I was expecting a sub-1:52 now, and the adrenaline was starting to pump as I reached the next road a block east of the expressway interchange.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>As I approached the intersection, a black sedan was pulling up to the main road from my left, ready to turn westbound. This was a small, two lane road with a stop sign, and the car came to a stop just before I reached the street. I thought the driver saw me, but apparently she was looking eastward to check for oncoming traffic. There was an SUV 70 yards east, but I guess she figured she had time, so she gunned the accelerator just as I was passing in front of her, hitting me straight on and throwing me ten feet into the road. The vehicle contact wasn’t so bad —a mark on my extended left hand and a scrape on the side of my left leg —but I landed on my ass and right elbow: ow! <br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I remember looking skyward for a moment, thinking it was a good thing I didn’t hit my head. But then I got up, a little tenderly, then walked over and leaned on the side of her car. She was just opening her door, and I remember thinking, maybe I could ask her for a ride home now, as the run was apparently over and I was twelve miles down the road. But then I remembered that personal best I was pursuing, so before she could even say anything I waived her off, told her I ws okay the turned back to the sidewalk I front of me and started to run.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I didn’t get very far, though. That SUV driver had now stopped and he was out of his vehicle and running toward me. “Not so fast,” he said. “Are you okay?” Yes, I said. “Are you sure?” Yes, I was sure, and I started blathering on about that PB and the distance I had in front of me. “Hey, I understand,” the SUV guy said. “I ran Boston. But we should call you an ambulance.” That surprised me, had not occurred to me. I looked myself over an saw the skinned elbow and scraped leg and felt that sore butt, but I smiled and again assured him I was all right.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>By this time the sedan driver was approaching me, asking the same questions and expressing the same concerns and even offering to give me her name and number. I said no, don’t worry about it, and I showed her my elbow. “Look,” I said, “this is the worst of it. And I’m in the middle of a long run with a great time going and I’d just like to get back to it.” And I shook her hand and thanked the SUV guy and started running again.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Half a mile down the road, even with the setback, my 13.1 mile split was still under 1:54, and I kept running another three miles before I stopped at a Panera for some water. Oh, I was sore to be sure, and I was still about six miles from home, but I gave it a good five minutes at Panera then started on a slow 17 minute walk for the next mile. Then I started running again, an easy 10 minute pace for a mile and a half, and after that I walked a half mile, ran a mile, walked another mile, ran a little more and finally walked the last two blocks to home.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>With only that brief traffic stop (!), I had run 16 miles straight and 19.1 miles overall: deliberately, the distance of my two day race last May! With the walking miles, my distance was 21.8 miles and my time was 3:45. Which means, at a 9:30 pace without any walking, my 26.2 mile time would be 3:59 - a sub four marathon! Even with the walk time, if I could run those last four and a half miles I would finish in 4:27. I can do this! But I will try to avoid being hit by any more cars.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Just before I turned back to my run after shaking the sedan driver’s hand, I noticed she was finally smiling. “This’ll teach you to run on Lake-Cook Road so early in the morning,” she said, awkwardly. She had been pretty hook up by what had happened, maybe even more than me, and I knew she was only trying to lighten the mood. I smiled, then looked over at the SUV guy —the Boston marathoner —and saw that he was smiling, too.<br />
<i><br /></i>
<i> <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>...This doesn’t stop us. And that’s what you’ve taught us, Boston. That’s what you’ve reminded us —to push, to not grow weary, to not get faint, even when it hurts. We finish the race. And we do that because of who we are and we do that because we know that somewhere around the bend a stranger has a cup of water. Around the bend, somebody’s there to boost our spirits. On that toughest mile, just when we think we’ve hit a wall, someone will be there to cheer us on and pick us up.</i><br />
<i> </i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>—President Barack Obama,</i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> April 17, 2013. </i>Jonathan Voldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01880487385970932785noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6707664971501117904.post-86996588268390728132016-11-25T08:01:00.000-06:002016-12-04T08:01:31.907-06:00TWL, Lines 418-423: Thunder To The Lesser Gods<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>418<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Da<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>419<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Damyata: The boat responded<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>420<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Gaily, to the hand expert with sail and oar<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>421<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The sea was calm, your heart would have responded<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>422<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Gaily, when invited, beating obedient<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>423<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>To controlling hands<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>419. THUNDER’S THIRD DISCIPLINE: This is the third DA, after lines 401 and 411. Damyata means “Control yourself,” what lesser gods understood in hearing “Da.” See note 400.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>DADAISM: Apart from any meaning heard in what the thunder said, the da da da passage also evokes the concept of Dadaism, a pre-surrealist art movement that began in Switzerland in 1916 and was reaching its peak at the time of The Waste Land. The movement, which ranged from visual arts to literature and poetry to theater, spurned the bourgeoisie reasoning and hard logic that were at the roots of World War I and instead placed a value on abstract nonsense. In contrast to Eliot’s objective correlative theory (note 417), compare this with the ostensible “gibberish” of the jazz movement (notes 130 and 433). See Eliot’s comments, in The Lesson of Baudelaire (1921; see note 76): “Dadaism is a diagnosis of a disease of the French mind; whatever lesson we extract from it will not be directly applicable in London”; and again in James Joyce, Ulysses, Order and Myth (1923), in which he criticized another critic: “Mr. Aldington treated Mr. Joyce as a prophet of chaos; and wailed at the flood of Dadaism which his prescient eye saw bursting forth at the tap of the magician’s rod.”<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>420. THE BOAT RESPONDED: See line 280 (Elizabeth and Leicester, on the Thames barge) and note 280 for more on oars. <br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>421. CALMNESS: Compare the calm sea with the calm night after leaving the Chapel Perilous (see note 388) and the calm day of a riverside wedding in Spenser, Prothalamion (see note 176).Jonathan Voldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01880487385970932785noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6707664971501117904.post-88301974057454742402016-11-24T08:00:00.000-06:002016-12-04T08:00:49.579-06:00Meleagris Gallopavo<i><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>When country fiddlers held a convention in Danville, </i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>the big money went to a barn dance artist who played </i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Turkey in the Straw, with variations... </i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>— Carl Sandburg</i><br />
<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Some say the first Americans had named it for its<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> cluck<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Or that Chris called it “tuka” for a peacock he<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> mistook<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>(By Chris I mean Columbus; Tuka’s Tamil for<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> peacock,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>And Tamil is the language of Ceylon), but by the<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> book<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The Brits declared it first and for all time the bird<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> from Turkey,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>While Science called it meleagris, out of<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> Malagasy<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>(Relating it to Guinea fowls, with Latin terms so<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> classy<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>They get excused for making things perpetually<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> murky).<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Each stop along the trade route added names to<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> the imposter:<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The Palestinians dubbed the bird an Ethiopian<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> Rooster,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The Dutch decreed it kalkoen, a Malibarian<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> coaster<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>(From Calicut of Malibar in India, southwester).<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The commonest of turkey tags, for Turks and<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> many others,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Is Indian Chicken, for the land Columbus<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> misdiscovered:<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Thus hindi, dindon, indyk, indjuk, hindishga, all<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> brothers<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Of the nascent New World Order of the Turkey.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> Meanwhile, over<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>In India, some Indians have christened it<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> “peru”,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Deferring to the name their Portugallan traders<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> knew.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>But Peru never knew the bird until the Spanish<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> shipped it;<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>They called it gallopavo, for the peacock Chris descripted<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> <br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>(By Chris I mean Columbus; pavo’s peacock;<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> gallo’s chicken;<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>And Portugallans are the chicken-trading<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> Portuguese).<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>And so this story goes: the plot unwinds, the titles<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> thicken,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>But dinner’s on the table; you can call it what you please.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> <br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>There is no grand denouement in the course of<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> human nature<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>And from the very start the turkey’s oldest<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> nomenclature,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Presented by the Aztecs in their native<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> Nahuatl,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Has been a word the world could never say:<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> Xuehxolotl. Jonathan Voldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01880487385970932785noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6707664971501117904.post-44201911782456731212016-11-23T07:58:00.000-06:002016-12-04T07:58:18.179-06:00The Real Thing<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I would like to say<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>that there is nothing<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>like the quenching power<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>of a Diet Coke,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>ignoring for one<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>indulgent moment<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>what other poets<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>choose to write about.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I would like to note<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>the pleasant feeling<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>of carbonation<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>and the sweetness of<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>zero calories<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>and the bitter hint<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>of a grownup taste,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>the icy chill, the<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>feeling of steel and<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>the perk of caffeine,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>but I’d have to add<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>quickly, being one<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>from that grownup world<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>of bittersweetly<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>carbonated gas<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>how the “real thing” is<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>hardly everything<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>and “nothing like” is<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>much less than it seems<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>after the bubbles<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>die down and the air<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>takes the chill away,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>when the buzz wears off<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>and you hunger for <br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>more, anything more<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>than the flattened<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>aluminum taste of<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>water in disguise.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>With wisdom and age,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>everything is less<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>than you thought before,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>more than you supposed,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>nothing like they told<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>you when you were young,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>something that your youth<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>might spend all its life<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>trying to understand,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>something like the power<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>of water with no<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>color, taste or fizz<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>poured without ice<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>into a lucid glass<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>and then lifted up<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>to the waiting lips<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>of simplicity.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I need nothing more.Jonathan Voldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01880487385970932785noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6707664971501117904.post-7294726854690083742016-11-22T07:56:00.000-06:002016-12-04T07:57:29.810-06:00Table Grace<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Around the table, tradition goes,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>each person has to say one thing<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>they’re thankful for, a word, a phrase.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>We take our turns with the usual string<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>of gratitudes and platitudes:<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>for food and family, most of all,<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>but also health and love and God.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>We try to be original<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>but every year’s about the same,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>just as it should be I suppose,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>a fitting capsule for this time,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>the simple words of hungry souls.Jonathan Voldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01880487385970932785noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6707664971501117904.post-86656590994665975512016-11-21T07:56:00.000-06:002016-12-04T07:58:45.480-06:00Peace<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I clean my house<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> the way I pay my debts<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>the way I find my peace:<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> a little at<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>a time (a resting place<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> in greener fields<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>now and then, forgiveness<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> by the silent<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>waters). So far,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> time's been good to me<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>but in the end<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> I want to live to see<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>no more to clean, no more<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> to pay, and PEACE,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>such peace that passes<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> understanding, peace<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>that supercedes<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> my earthly needs<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> and leaves<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>this tired world,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> this plodding pace<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> behind.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I don't know if or when<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> I'll ever find<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>that better place, but<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> let me still<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> believe<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>that if I serve my time<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> and look for peace<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>a little at a time<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> I'll be released.Jonathan Voldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01880487385970932785noreply@blogger.com0