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Even though a cloud’s white curtain in a far-off corner flashed
An’ the hypnotic splattered mist was slowly lifting
Electric light still struck like arrows, fired but for the ones
Condemned to drift or else be kept from drifting
Tolling for the searching ones, on their speechless, seeking trail
For the lonesome-hearted lovers with too personal a tale
An’ for each unharmful, gentle soul misplaced inside a jail
An’ we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing
Starry-eyed an’ laughing as I recall when we were caught
Trapped by no track of hours for they hanged suspended
As we listened one last time an’ we watched with one last look
Spellbound an’ swallowed ’til the tolling ended
Tolling for the aching ones whose wounds cannot be nursed
For the countless confused, accused, misused, strung-out ones an’ worse
An’ for every hung-up person in the whole wide universe
An’ we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing
Stone-cutters fighting time with marble, you foredefeated
Challengers of oblivion
Eat cynical earnings, knowing rock splits, records fall down,
The square-limbed Roman letters
Scale in the thaws, wear in the rain. The poet as well
Builds his monument mockingly;
For man will be blotted out, the blithe earth die, the brave sun
Die blind and blacken to the heart:
Yet stones have stood for a thousand years, and pained
thoughts found
The honey of peace in old poems.
— Robinson Jeffers
Reason will not decide at last; the sword will decide.
The sword: an obsolete instrument of bronze or steel,
formerly used to kill men, but here
In the sense of a symbol. The sword: that is: the storms
and counter-storms of general destruction; killing
of men,
Destruction of all goods and materials; massacre, more or
less intentional, of children and women;
Destruction poured down from wings, the air made accomplice,
the innocent air
Perverted into assassin and poisoner.
The sword: that is: treachery and cowardice, incredible
baseness, incredible courage, loyalties, insanities.
The sword: weeping and despair, mass-enslavement,
mass-torture, frustration of all hopes
That starred man’s forehead. Tyranny for freedom, horror for
happiness, famine for bread, carrion for children.
Reason will not decide at last, the sword will decide.
His soul stretched tight across the skies
That fade behind a city block,
Or trampled by insistent feet
At four and five and six o’clock;
And short square fingers stuffing pipes,
And evening newspapers, and eyes
Assured of certain certainties,
The conscience of a blackened street
Impatient to assume the world.
I am moved by fancies that are curled
Around these images, and cling:
The notion of some infinitely gentle
Infinitely suffering thing.
Wipe your hand across your mouth, and laugh;
The worlds revolve like ancient women
Gathering fuel in vacant lots.
— Eliot
The scientists are in terror
and the European mind stops
Wyndham Lewis chose blindness
rather than have his mind stop.
Night under wind mid garofani,
the petals are almost still
Mozart, Linnaeus, Sulmona,
When one’s friends hate each other
how can there be peace in the world?
Their asperities diverted me in my green time.
A blown husk that is finished
but the light sings eternal
a pale flare over marshes
where the salt hay whispers to tide’s change
Time, space,
neither life nor death is the answer.
And of man seeking good,
doing evil.
In meiner Heimat
where the dead walked
and the living were made of cardboard.
Even though a cloud’s white curtain in a far-off corner flashed
An’ the hypnotic splattered mist was slowly lifting
Electric light still struck like arrows, fired but for the ones
Condemned to drift or else be kept from drifting
Tolling for the searching ones, on their speechless, seeking trail
For the lonesome-hearted lovers with too personal a tale
An’ for each unharmful, gentle soul misplaced inside a jail
An’ we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing
Starry-eyed an’ laughing as I recall when we were caught
Trapped by no track of hours for they hanged suspended
As we listened one last time an’ we watched with one last look
Spellbound an’ swallowed ’til the tolling ended
Tolling for the aching ones whose wounds cannot be nursed
For the countless confused, accused, misused, strung-out ones an’ worse
An’ for every hung-up person in the whole wide universe
An’ we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing
Gerard Van der Leun
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Happy Easter, Gerard! Don’t you love a black cat in sunshine? Especially those smooth, damp places just washed? She’s loving her Easter sunshine.
Just got back from walking five and a half rigorous miles on this cool gray Easter. Got home, flopped in the red chair, and Buddy the Cat jumped right up into my lap to join me. My wife is doing her exercises in her den. It’s quiet here, and we’re OK. Much to be grateful for.
A blessed Easter to all who stop by.
JWM
I go to a tiny Baptist Church two blocks away. The last three weeks, there have been five worshippers including the pastor and his wife. She plays the piano and live-streams his sermons on Facebook, for the others of the congregation who stay home. The pastor doesn’t want to preach to an empty church, so three of us listen to his sermon. There is a sign about a block from the church that tells us we can be arrested, jailed and fined $1000 for nonessential travel. It’s shocking! I can’t help feeling the Deep State is continuing on with its coup attempt by exploiting this shutdown.
Happy Easter, Gerard! Nothing like a happy cat in a basket in the sunshine… What a wonderful world, indeed.
It’s shocking! I can’t help feeling the Deep State is continuing on with its coup attempt by exploiting this shutdown.
It helps me to remember that the Powers That Were set a guard at the door of Christ’s tomb after His burial, and a fat lot of good that did them. The Lord is risen, He is risen indeed!
And yes, I like to think there was a little black cat walking in the garden on the first Easter, and that He stopped to pet and bless her. On this Easter, Olive is a picture of sunlit contentment, with the deep pink flower complementing her red collar and heart tag.
Easter greetings to both of you.
Begs the question, Margot, what would be their penalty for running their sign over and flattening it. Literally anything, presumably, considering they have already abandoned their sworn oath with contempt.
“Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.”
Of late I’ve been wondering what that stout fellow who cleared the temple in Jerusalem of money-changers would do under our present situation.
As the Babylon Bee advises, “Romans investigating Jesus for violating Stay-At-Tomb order.”
Happy Easter, Gerard and AD readers!
Happy Easter, Gerard! And to you, too, Miss Olive! And to y’all!
“I know that my Redeemer liveth” – Job 19:25
P.S. – Did I tell you we adopted a black kitty last November? We named her Pepper.
Now you hafta adopt a white male and name him Salt.