Lawrence
Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
LogoSophia Magazine – A Pilgrim's
Journal of Life, Literature and Love
Eating
Biblically 2
In Exodus there’s not a verb
About eating a Hebrew named Bitter
Herb
Thursday, May 21, 2026
Eating Biblically 2 - doggerel
Eating Biblically - doggerel
Lawrence
Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
LogoSophia Magazine – A Pilgrim's
Journal of Life, Literature and Love
Eating Biblically
I’ve never felt that I was liable
To dine upon on a tasty bible
Where Words Matter More than Noise - poem
Lawrence
Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
LogoSophia Magazine – A Pilgrim's
Journal of Life, Literature and Love
Where Words Matter More than Noise
As a wise friend says
“The unacknowledged legislators of the world” 1
Do not assemble in chambers of marble and oak
With speakers’ maces, in ermine-collared robes
Their speeches taken down by The Guardian and The
Times
But rather at corner tables at Kosher Sam’s 2
Café Zanzibar 3, The Stray Dog Café 4
With disposable pens, and in jeans and tees
Their speeches interrupted by each other
Ideas later sharpened into verse
And published in LogoSophia and Eliot’s HP 5
1 Shelley, “A Defence of Poetry”
2 San Diego
3 Nacogdoches (and can you spell “Nacogdoches?”)
4 St. Petersburg
5 LogoSophia and Hello, Poetry
Monday, May 18, 2026
Hello, You - poem
Lawrence Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
LogoSophia Magazine – A Pilgrim's Journal of Life, Literature and Love
Hello, You
Hello, You
You, who have never written an idle line,
Give a second sunrise to each merry morning
Or if a morning is not permitted, a dusk
An hour of your gentle peace to read
Hello, You
You, who chant for us your litany of hope
We who are blessed in your thoughts and words
In how you shape chaos into hymns of love
And sing your stories to the universe
Hello, You
You, who have never written an idle line
Pray for all of us, please, at your Heliconian shrine
Landing at Port aux Basques - poem
Lawrence
Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
LogoSophia Magazine – A Pilgrim's
Journal of Life, Literature and Love
Landing at Port aux Basques
“He was faithful and
daft to me”
-as Marc Antony did
not say
We were approaching Newfoundland aboard the old Caribou
I climbed up on deck in the icy, clear dawn
A mysterious woman in a Burberry coat
Smoked cigarettes in the lee of a ventilator
(and ignored me)
In the cold I surveyed the brown and white coast
And reported back to Dan that there was snow ashore
“You’re daft,” he replied, “those are just little houses.”
But there was snow indeed on Port aux Basques
We rattled Dan’s CRV up Highway 1
(driving around a
dead moose in the road)
On daft adventures all the way to Saint John’s
Dan is the only one who has ever called me
daft; indeed, except in the movies I have never heard anyone else use the term.
Saturday, May 16, 2026
The Flag and the Fourth Amendment flown at Half-Mast Down at the Post Office - poem
Lawrence Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
LogoSophia Magazine – A Pilgrim's Journal of Life, Literature and Love
The Flag and the Fourth Amendment flown at Half-Mast
Down at the Post Office
“VEHICLES AND THEIR CONTENTS ARE SUBJECT TO INSPECTION WHEN ENTERING, LEAVING, OR WHILE PARKED WITHIN THIS RESTRICTED AREA. ENTERING INTO THIS AREA CONSTITUTES CONSENT TO THE INSPECTION. (39 C. F. R. PART 232.1(b)(2)”
-a new sign screwed to the wall at my rural post office
The flag was flown at half-mast again today
As it often is for weeks at a time, it seems
A moment in history? A loss? A death?
Maybe another Texas senator or bird dog? 1
The flag was flown at half-mast again today
Some guy down the street flew it upside down
Protesting or surrendering or not paying attention
To the latest crisis in our decaying republic
The flag was flown at half-mast again today -
I wonder if now it will always be that way
1 A reference to a line in True Grit
Thursday, May 14, 2026
Life as a Noisy Waiting Room - poem
Lawrence Hall
Dispatches for the
Colonial Office
LogoSophia Magazine
– A Pilgrim's Journal of Life, Literature and Love
Life
as a Noisy Waiting Room
“This waiting room of a world.”
-fictional line by the character of C. S. Lewis in Shadowlands
How much of life is passed in
waiting for others
To do what they promised they
would do:
The mechanic who promised to call
when the car was ready
The computer that promised your
package on Monday
The lawn service that promised to
mow on Tuesday
The friend who promised to meet
you on Wednesday
The pharmacist who promised your
meds for Thursday
The doctor’s appointment promised
for nine o’clock Friday
The cable service that promised repairs
by Saturday
Oh, sure, all those promises -
They
simply went away!
A Parasol Mushroom - senryu, possibly a haiku, possibly not
A Parasol Mushroom
A tiny white house
Appears on the lawn at dawn
But where is the toad?
To a child a mushroom is a toadstool. I have never seen a toad resting on or sheltering beneath a toadstool, but I keep looking. I imagine it would be rather like Bilbo Baggins, smoking a pipe and reading its morning letters.
What Time is it in Wal-Mart? - poem
Lawrence Hall
Dispatches for the
Colonial Office
LogoSophia Magazine
– A Pilgrim's Journal of Life, Literature and Love
What
Time is it in Wal-Mart?
And call to children in the yard
“What century is it outside?”
-Pasternak, “About These Poems”
My daughter gave me a nifty Apple
watch
But years have passed; it mostly
spends its time
On the charger, dreaming of
happier hours
When minutes joyfully leaped over
each other
I found my dusty Timex in a dusty
drawer
$8.00 at Wal-Mart a long time ago
(the
watch, not the drawer)
I fitted it with a new battery (I
can do stuff)
Its sweep hand leaps over its
painted dial
I passed some little children;
one of them hissed
“What is that curious thing on
that old man’s wrist?”
Tuesday, May 12, 2026
Kreeft, Tolkien, Dostoyevsky, and a Driveway Alarm - poem
Lawrence Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
LogoSophia Magazine – A Pilgrim's Journal of Life, Literature and Love
Kreeft, Tolkien, Dostoyevsky, and a Driveway Alarm
Peter Kreeft: The Two Greatest Novels Ever Written:
The Wisdom of the Lord of the Rings and The Brothers Karamazov
I was yawning over my book late at night
When the driveway alarm squawked unimaginatively
In its mechanical voice, “DRIVEWAY ALERT!”
With guard-dachshund and flashlight I addressed the alert
But there was nothing, only the wind and damp
Perhaps a squirrel had triggered the alarm
Which is silly, because squirrels don’t drive
And shouldn’t be wandering around in the lane
I am yawning over my book again -
What are you reading at bedtime just now?
Sunday, May 10, 2026
In Monastic Solitude - poem
Lawrence
Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
LogoSophia Magazine – A Pilgrim's
Journal of Life, Literature and Love
In
Monastic Solitude
In monastic solitude I sat
Among the lilting liturgy of the
leaves
Vocalizing no prayers, thinking
no thoughts
Only trying to empty my poor mind
And listen to the Hymn of the
Universe
The blessings of bees, the
chantings of cicadas
The singing Silence of the spring-ing
sky -
But in all of this I was unsuccessful
And that’s okay
My mind is too cluttered to pause
and to be
But still, you see
I thought I heard You sighing in
the wind
Friday, May 8, 2026
The Distinct Click of a Zippo Cigarette Lighter - poem
Lawrence Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
LogoSophia Magazine – A Pilgrim's Journal of Life, Literature and Love
The Distinct Click of a Zippo Cigarette Lighter
A man
An old man
An old man slumped in a wheelchair
An old man slumped in a wheelchair outside the cardiac clinic
Smoking a cigarette
An old man smoking a cigarette, not the clinic
The clinic is not smoking in any way
While armed with smug looks of disapproval
We could pursue him with guilt and consequences
Along the disinfected corridors
Of offices, labs, and consulting rooms
Maybe even past the patch-painted corner
Where the cigarette machine used to be
And the pay ‘phone and the newspaper rack
But Bogart and the Marlboro Man are dead
A Zippo clicks as it did in his youth
Leave the old man smoking his past alone
Because he is alone, and because he is dying
And his cigarette is the only joy left to him
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
