Divination I God god god I heard the word rattling and buzzing in the cubicle of the elevator car, thwacking the walls and rebounding as it rode relentlessly up and down in the School of Theology every day, every evening, season after season; it escaped, too, down the fluorescently dazzled linoleum halls when the door…
If they show me stone and I say stone they will say stone. If they show me wood and I say wood they will say wood. But if they show me blood and I say blood they will say paint. If they show me blood and I say blood they will say paint. Translated from…
Niccolò Machiavelli (1469–1527) To my son I still remember Hedley Bull his slow, regular footfall in front of the podium; the sudden way he would look up and turn his handsome head to us before asking in that droll Australian accent: “Gentlemen, it all hinges on the meaning of the word virtù. Bacon, Hobbes, Adams,…
When, later, our adventure has bogged down, or umbrella’s to an end, and mountains & lakes if any are the friends — and that reminds me of a story — and so does ‘if’ — Einstein — who personal’ never caught my fancy — he took my umbrella once, — or I took his —…
Yes. That is so. I found she hated then (or even didn’t) her father who left when she was a toddle of three. She hated her mother (I couldn’t like her either) and felt only a fully justified contempt for her one brother. Which into waded: me. Ran on her a morning en route to…
Waiting. Just waiting, in wet heat. A little more whiskey please. Turn the fan up. The amenities. No food yet, thank you. I’ll feel better later. It’s too hot to read. I think: do I have everything I need, stomach & mouth? A little more whiskey, please. In this terrible state I hope I’m paying…
Grim Pilgrims gather: ‘Thanks.’ I give thanks too, as the last leaves fly, that he did not live on but yellow & skin-thin & grinning ceased. True that his harvest due only was beginning, that no sun distracted his widow in her calm dismay; but count up then his gain, — Paris unfallen, Hiroshima tall, …
Everybody knows I have them. My problems were bad then. I have value now. I actually love chugging green juice. Dialectical Behavioral Therapy is the name of the holy game. They give me homework over there. They put ice in my hands. They take the sunglasses off my face. Yeah, I miss being a terror….
She was looking like trapped meat. I’m talking about the pretentious freak of nature stuck in her mother’s washing machine down the street. It was yesterday afternoon. I’d dropped by to return borrowed eggs. I heard screaming, begging, laughter. We used to play house. I was eleven. She was ten. I was a bank teller….
I run into my therapist from seven years ago. He’s standing around, still the young side of middle-aged, face blank, totally unimpressed. But he’s not as I remember him. For instance, he has a fever. He’s glistening. His spectacles: gone. Man, our old sessions. He was strict, for real. Even coffee was off the table….
On a rainy Sunday afternoon, pre-workout, I approach the girl behind the counter at my gym. She mostly deals in fresh towels and electrolytes, and she doesn’t like me — not sure why, but she’s blatant. And so right in front of her I go, “I’ll take the red Gatorade — the fruit punch flavor…
All my life, reading has made me feel on the verge of something, like a bird turning in the wind to lay itself bare before going higher — with feet stretched out behind — higher than the indifferent trees and noisy earth. I’m grateful to my teachers who nurtured this experience, education being our first…
