All Literature Is World Literature
All literature is world literature / A culture that hugs itself to itself / And refuses to share and share alike / Consumes itself in a closed loop, and dies
Read MoreTag: Lawrence Hall
A Dog, a Pocketknife, a Twenty-Two
A dog, a pocketknife, a twenty-two
The rightful possessions of every Texas lad
For working out the values he must live up to
The virtues that he learned from his solid ol’ Dad
Each Altar is Minas Tirith
Each Altar is Minas Tirith these days
A city of kings and of the true King
Behind whose twice-barred gates and golden doors
The faithful may find refuge for a time
I’m Afraid of Parole
Tomorrow his mother and his little girl Will meet him at the gate and take him home No more white suits and big boondocker boots No wire, no bells, no lining up for counts
Read MorePre-Existing Conditions
The topic of trust came up the other day when one of the prisoners I visit each week remarked on the challenge of knowing how to find reliable information about the Virus-of-Many-Names.
Read MoreWho Possesses a Poem?
Just as a father passes on to his child The popular music of his long-lost youth A teacher passes on to those in his care The ‘way-cool poetry of his own lost youth
Read MoreThe Song of the Rotor-Tiller
Today we harvest broken bits of glass
Fragments of old toys, bit of aluminum
A Sylvania flash cube still intact
From a picture taken decades ago
Paying the Electric Bill to a Tattooed Arm
Through the glass one can see a slender arm
And a shift in the light shows it to be
All splotchy in decaying reds, greens, and blues
Seemingly covered in a tropical blight
The window slides open to a beautiful smile…
When the Ambulance Arrived
So there you were with a tube in your arm
And a crossword puzzle and pen in your hands
And a lovely view of a sunlit roof
With windblown debris whipping between the vents
The BeeGees, Duck Dynasty, and Jesus
Garage-sale-blocked again, the one-lane road Hosts cars on both sides, and oxygened-men Defiantly aluminum-caning the middle In their Quixotic quest for eternal youth
Read MoreAssorted Broken Saints
After doing some time in this fallen world
We all are broken, and missing a few of our parts
Having lost some hopes and strengths along the way
But we keep chooglin’ along, making it work
Palm Sunday without Air-Raid Warnings
Palm Sunday is easy for the rest of us
A procession with palms from the parking lot
Praising God through an asphalt Jerusalem
A Subaru on His right hand, a Dodge on His left
To Ask to be Exempt Would be Unreasonable
We all have lists of absent friends Who were with us one week and Covid the next With unfinished stories and little jokes We meant to tell each other the next time we met
Read MoreWe All Dream of Our Own Library Someday
We all dream of our own library someday
Shelf after shelf of finely bound editions
An oak-paneled room with a stone fireplace
And French windows that open to the sea
Select All Images with Traffic Lights
When the ink on his Gospel had barely dried
Saint Matthew was interrupted by angelic sights
And then to him a Voice from Heaven cried:
“Select all images with traffic lights!”
Shifting the Clockfoolery Forward
This is the day we search out all the clocks:
Two in the den (in which no animals live)
One in the kitchen above the dishy sink…
Covid Memory Gaps
A child in the second grade might be missing this part of his development: he doesn’t remember a time when there weren’t face masks and nervous and sometimes angry discussions about Covid, immunizations, symptoms, isolation, and what’s not available at the grocery store this week.
Read MoreI Grew Up In Mayberry
I passed two men who were building a fence
With hands and tools and strength and uncommon sense…
Geographically Speaking
Sweet little bunnies browse and squirrels climb
And tiny mice and fairies give delight
To all the little ones of Newfoundland
Who visit Peter Pan in Bowring Park
A Question I Must Ask of Myself
The question is asked: What good shall I do today?
It is a fair question. I don’t know who asked it first
But this morning the only importance
Is that I ask this question of myself
LogoSophia Magazine 