Lawrence Hall, HSG
Which Karamazov are You?
Wise Dostoyevksy
Writes with holy words the mysteries
Of the Russian soul
The former address, "reactionary drivel," was a P. G. Wodehouse gag that few ever understood to be a mildly self-deprecating joke. Drivel, perhaps, but not reactionary. Neither the Red Caps nor the Reds ever got it.
Lawrence Hall, HSG
Which Karamazov are You?
Wise Dostoyevksy
Writes with holy words the mysteries
Of the Russian soul
Lawrence Hall, HSG
Which Karamazov
are You?
Wise Dostoyevksy
Writes with holy words the mysteries
Of the Russian soul
Lawrence Hall, HSG
An Old G.I. Belt Buckle
For Storekeeper Third Class Thomas of Knoxville, Tennessee
“What he believed, he did.”
-Laurence Binyon
“In Memory of George Calderon”
An old belt buckle in the back of a shelf
Greening brass on a belt now much too short
Maybe the same one I wore on the Vam Co Tay
Scattered thoughts shift to Thomas; I don’t know why
A good man with a clipboard and a fifty-cal
Sitting on the edge of a bunk feeding a child
Spooning c-rats and making the kid laugh
“One for meeee…and one for youuuu!”
I wonder whatever happened to good ‘ol Thomas
I wonder whatever happened to the child
I wonder whatever happened to all of us
Lawrence Hall, HSG
Atheist Chaplains Forging Mixed Metaphors
“Atheist chaplains are forging a new path in a
changing world”
-CNN 7 November 2024
One seldom thinks of chaplains at a forge
Work-weary, work-stained from hours of smoke and sweat
With mighty hammer strokes bending hot iron
To the will of the artisan in useful things
Some writers forge nothing but metaphors tired
From overuse, and mixed as verbal soup
In music, art, literature, and life paths can be
Cleared
Paved
Traveled
Surveyed
explored
Followed
Noted
Marked
Mapped
Found
But it is not in the nature of paths to be forged
Atheist chaplains and metaphor soup
Are nothing more than an ouroborosian loop
(Look upon this fresh
metaphor and neologism
And despair)
Lawrence Hall, HSG
Vice-President Kamala Harris’ Speech of Gratitude and Farewell to Her Faithful Followers in the Early Hours of 6 November 2024
Lawrence Hall, HSG
Election Night
2024: Dry Bones
“All we are, basically, are monkeys with car keys”
-Grandma Woody in Northern Exposure, “Animals R
Us,” 1991
An early dusk falls under clouds from the Gulf
Yellow houselights wink on as daylight winks off
Supper in greasy bags from fast-fooderies
That everyone argues they can’t afford
Then like the lozenge in A Space Odyssey
A screen appears and dominates all
And family groupings center themselves around it
In excited cavortings before the images
Of brightly-colored cultic election scores
As fists swinging dry bones crush enemy skulls
Lawrence Hall, HSG
Nora, Theo, and Pushkin-the-Rescue-Cat
After rough adventures Pushkin has found his way home
The children celebrate with him his happy new life
By crowning their purring prince with vines and flowers
And he is pleased to accept their adoration and love
Too soon children must leave their merriments
And rebuild civilization among the wreckages
In a time of hatreds and ideologies
When all seem to have forgotten the way to Jerusalem
And so for now
May children enjoy the springtime of their lives
For they (and the cat) remind us of our appointed path
Lawrence Hall, HSG
Porta Coeli
“I pray you, sir, remember the porter”
-Macbeth II.iii.20ff
We are all porters; we open doors for others
Sometimes we open them for ourselves
If we close a door, it is against the rain and cold
And not against each other
(Yes, in Macbeth
the Porter is drunk and inept, and when he says “remember the porter” he is
asking for a tip in spite of his incompetence. I put the line in anyway because
we are all porters.)
Lawrence Hall, HSG
The Most Embarrassed Young Father in All of Christendom
I will go in to the Altar of God.
To God who giveth joy to my youth.
The Roman Missal, 1962
The processional had hardly ended
With each minister and server in place
Each knee for a moment respectfully bended
In acknowledgement of God’s gentle Grace
When came to our ears a frightening assault
Of sirens and horns, and then flashing lights
Beneath the sanctuary’s sacred vault
A catalogue of wild electronic frights
To the narthex door a father rushed
Awkwardly in the sight of God and man
His handsome manly face was deeply flushed
His son’s toy helicopter was clutched in his hands
He carried the noisy gadget far away -
(A true helicopter parent we may say!)
We delight in our children; for them we pray
And thank God for all families this Sabbath day
I will go in to the Altar of God.
To God who giveth youthful joy to old age.
-Parenting 1301
Lawrence Hall, HSG
The Sunday Evening News in a Time of Elections
“Good things of day begin to droop
and drowse”
-Macbeth III.ii.58
Suddenly the yellowing afternoon
is still
For Indian Summer breezes
have slipped away
While clouds of silent
midges swirl against the sun
For reasons of nature known
only to themselves
The treeline is blue as
evening comes on
But the hayfields glow
golden for a little while
Until Old Sol falls asleep
at last
And the firstling stars
come out to play
A rabbit shyly nibbles at
the dewing grass –
The day is over; we have
to let it pass
Lawrence Hall, HSG
A Plumber’s Assistant, a Nazi, and an Artificial Tree
Nazi Rally in Madison Square Garden, 10 February 1939
Isadore Greenbaum wanted to punch a Nazi
And so he charged – he didn’t get very far
And was beaten up by Real Americans (cough)
(It took only four or five of ‘em)
And arrested by the New York City Police
One Nazi stopped kicking Greenbaum to set aright
An artificial tree that was about to fall
Which is a curiosity – what remnant of good
Was in that man that he kept a decoration in place?
Greenbaum is a hero in our nation’s history -
The tidy Nazi remains a mystery
Lawrence Hall, HSG
I Hear America Whining
The world’s fattest people, packin’ the pounds
Driving in to McDonald’s whenever struck by the mood
And then to the beer joint, drinking in rounds
While complaining about the price of food
Lawrence Hall, HSG
Torah is Written with Flames
English letters are as
orderly as a battle line
But Hebrew letters are
flames in their shining shapes
Even on a printed page
they dance in light
And with Light comes Truth;
you can see God in them
For Hebrew letters are the
Burning Bush
The fires of Mount Horeb,
the Temple sacrifice
The light of a Talmud
scholar’s study lamp
The light of Torah upon
civilization
We don’t know our letters
as well as we should
But God has written them
upon our hearts
Lawrence Hall, HSG
Driving Home After
Work:
“Thus Spake Zarathustra”
on the Radio
The first few bars must always remind us of
That space movie from the future long ago
With sophomores beating each other up
Or anyone trying to spell “Zarathustra “
Without looking it up; no spelling now
Driving into a drought-red setting sun
The vapours of chemicals, road tar, dust
Allergens drifting among the toxins
Poetry sorts meaning from chaos seeming -
Maybe not tonight (Sneeze!)
Lawrence Hall, HSG
We are All Children When We Attempt Haiku
We all write Haiku
We’re not any good at it
But we honor the Shijin
Lawrence
Hall, HSG
SNL: Because Men Who Betray Women
are so Amusing
Re: Bang-Bang
Baldwin
A man
shoots a woman
For
which another woman takes the fall
And Saturday
Night Live
Is
okay with it all
Lawrence Hall, HSG
The High Priest Kisses King Herod’s (Hands)
His Eminence the Cardinal of New York
The High Priest kisses King Herod’s (hands)
And joins him for a feast of mockeries and lies
Giving the tyrant for his crimes a pass
Laughing at Truth as civilization dies
Over lobster and beef they pity the poor
While robed in white ties and evening gowns
And silken ecclesiastical couture
(One of them has visions of papal crowns)
Gluttony and scorn at a rented manse -
All that is missing is Salome’s dance
Lawrence Hall, HSG
The First Barn-Jacket Morning in Autumn
Dawn – windy and cold
The first barn-jacket morning
Wild geese singing south
Lawrence Hall, HSG
The Kittens Come on Little Fog Feet
As Carl Sandburg did not say
At dawn: coffee and the Wordle and thoughts
The moon’s still full, but one last star winks out
The dew-bathed oaks drip onto a tricky word
Fog drifts in silence among the tricky light
A little paw stirs soft autumn’s molding leaves
And then two eyes appear, and a greeting tail
The forming image of the cat completes itself
And then another – two abandoned cats
These tiny orphans approach – and love begins
To them I pledge
They will never be hungry or lonely again
Lawrence Hall, HSG
On Reading Three Hundred Tang Poems
From The Jade Mountain they
came
300 Tang dreams
Each in its well-ordered
frame
Cups adrift in streams
The ancients speak to us
still
Wisdom from the high
Each word a clear-flowing
rill
Each a song, a sigh
Three
Hundred Tang Poems
Translated
and edited by Peter Harris
© 2009 by
Peter Harris
Typeset in
Somerset, England
Printed and
bound on Possneck, Germany
Everyman’s
Library Pocket Poets
New York:
Knopf
Toronto:
Penguin Random House
London:
Everyman’s Library
Lawrence Hall, HSG
An Autumn Flight
A leaf fell, a leaf
A life of summer in flight
In bright golden flight
Lawrence Hall, HSG
A Dixon Ticonderoga #2 Pencil from 1955
Neither plans nor bathroom
vents last forever
The workmen pulled down the old
one from ‘55
Amid a tumble of old nails
and bits of wood:
A Dixon Ticonderoga #2
The yellow paint a little
aged now
The green metal ring a little
bit dull
The eraser now hardened
beyond all use
The point well-sharpened with
a pocketknife
What sturdy craftsman from
the long ago
Measured out his work - I’d like to know
Lawrence Hall, HSG
One Does Not Pre-Imagine Pre-Edward R. Murrow Pre-Babbling
A Lesson in Clear Writing for Journalists
Hunker down, swath of destruction, hunker down, write your Social Security number on your arm, hunker down, eerie, hunker down, monster, hunker down, time ticking down / away, hunker down, pre-positioned, hunker down, pre-planned, hunker down, pre-need (and maybe even pre-hunker down), hunker down, pre-deployed, hunker down, spooky (and possibly pre-spooky), hunker down, snapped like matchsticks (“Daddy, what’s a matchstick?”), hunker down, doomed paradise, hunker down, paradise lost, hunker down, lost paradise, hunker down, apocalypse, hunker down, biblical, hunker down, storm of the century (again?), hunker down, doomed, hunker down, doomed, hunker down, pummeled, hunker down, pummeled, hunker down, pummeled, hunker down, power lines brightly bursting, hunker down, eerie calm, hunker down, eerie quiet, hunker down, birds chirping, hunker down, unexpected sparks, hunker down, hazards are unfolding, hunker down, street lamps waver, hunker down, one-two punch, hunker down, what we know, hunker down, hunker down, hunker down
Lawrence Hall, HSG
A Treatise on the Burrowing Habits of Dachshunds
A dachshund will burrow under the
garden fence
For every dachshund thinks she is a wolf
A fearsome apex predator with a
squeaky toy -
This is in the nature of dachshunds
A dachshund will burrow into your
tightly-closed hand
Nosing out the doggie treat you have
hidden there
A fearsome apex predator and omnivore
-
This is in the nature of dachshunds
A dachshund bill burrow into your end-of-day
lap
Watching both the television and the
cats
A fearsome apex predator drooling on
your book -
This is in the nature of dachshunds
A dachshund will burrow, borrow, beg,
and bark
And in her foreshadowing of that
better World to come
A dachshund will burrow deeply into
your heart -
And love you forever
This is in the nature of dachshunds
And of you
Lawrence Hall, HSG
We Are Offered Two Candidates for the Presidency
I am afraid that one of them will win
Lawrence Hall, HSG
Falling Into
Truth
The fall of October’s leaves
is nothing new
Except that it is – this leaf
never fell before
And we were never here to
watch this leaf
Because we and the leaf were
somewhere else
Except that we were, we are,
we will be
A little leaf, each of us, springtime-new
Then dancing merrily the
summer through
Now floating gently into a
winter’s sleep
A coverlet soft, a hymn, a
night-light moon
Sleep - sleep – another
spring is coming soon
Lawrence Hall, HSG
Dock Workers’ Strike – BUY TOILET PAPER!
WE ARE AMERICANS!
Whenever threatened by enemies furry or domestic
By hurricanes, tornadoes, earthquakes, storms
By shortages of food, water, and electric power
By aliens stalking us and eating our cats
By famine, fire, dispossession, revolution
WE BUY TOILET PAPER! WE ARE AMERICANS!
We are armed with our AK-16s and AR – 47s
Uniformed in our Wal-Mart camo from China
Size 89XXXXL-Lard-ass
And we will by God stand together as ONE -
And fight each other to the death for toilet paper!
Oh, and do you know Jesus?
Lawrence Hall, HSG
His Check Engine
Light is On
He came by today, a friend from long ago
“I haven’t seen you in a hamster’s age.”
“Yep, too long.”
“How ya doin’?”
“Good enough for government service.”
“Wanna beer?
“Thought you’d never ask.”
“Kids all doin’ good?”
“Yeah; real proud of ‘em. All grown and gone. Yours?”
“Oh, yeah, doin’ doin’ just fine.”
“Heard you was in th’ hospital last year.”
“Yep, made almost about three months of of it.”
“Too much fun.”
“Yep.”
“At our age…”
“Yep.”
“Kids these days.”
“Yep.”
“You okay now?”
“Better’n I deserve. You?”
“Well, you know, my Check Engine light’s on.”
Fresh metaphors are scarcer than crocodile feathers. Thanks,
Chris.
Lawrence Hall, HSG
Meditation and Merriment in Early Autumn
We cannot stay young and strong for long -
Both of us have grey hair at the temples
-Du Fu, “To the Recluse Wei the Eighth”
After summer rains the earth is still green
In the cooling breeze oak leaves dance happily
Old lawn chairs are the humble chairs of poets
Old lawn chairs are the glorious thrones of kings
The seasons remind us of our mortality
We sit and ponder the mysteries of change
We will die, to be replaced by other poets
Who will sit and ponder the mysteries of change
And still, whatever these deep thoughts betoken -
I need to mow, but the lawn mower is broken
Three Hundred Tang Poems
Translated by Peter Harris
London: Everyman’s Library Pocket Poets, 2009
Lawrence Hall, HSG
An All-You-Can-Eat Buffet of Summer Bugs
(He was small in the spring)
When a tree frog moves up in
the world
He becomes a fashionable window
frog
No longer the pain of a rough
tree bark life
But rather the pane of easy
living
(He grew larger during the
summer)
My bedroom window is his
buffet
An all-he-can-eat buffet of bugs
Delicious summer bugs shared
around
With an uncommon house gecko of
style
(He’s really big now)
I look out at a hungry tree
frog, you see
But now – is he looking
hungrily in at me?
Lawrence Hall, HSG
The Cosmic Inertia of a Six-Pound Dachshund
Why is the resistance
factor
In shifting a six-pound
dachshund
Who does not want to be
shifted
Greater than that of tons
of iron?
Lawrence Hall, HSG
Boeing, Studebaker, John Deere, and my Tupperware™
Coffee Cup
“The days are gone…
When wonderful things were worked among them”
-The Seafarer, trans. Burton
Raffel
My Tupperware coffee cup is
as a chalice
With which I salute the beginning
of each day
Cool, colorful, comforting craftsmanship
An honest, utilitarian work
of art
We are told such things will
be no more
“Made in USA” is “Factorum
Romae”
Younger nations will find us
camping among the ruins
Of works and arts we no
longer comprehend
A colonial soldier might note
that once we were a great people
His colonel will reply, “Tosh!
They’re simple savages.”
Lawrence Hall, HSG
Smart*ss Watch
It clings to my wrist like a faithless
friend
Good fun to pal around when
we met
But getting just a little
tiresome with time
Unreliable in his many
promises
He fails to make the
appointments that we set
Or note the weather or mark
activities
I dunno; maybe he’s making
time with that Timex
My long-time steady who could
sure tick my tock
Sweet face, delicate hands -
she’d been around, but
Maybe I was wrong – I think
I’ll dial her
Lawrence Hall, HSG
On Reading a Poem by Du Mu
Everything is far away
China is ever so far away
The dynasties are far away
A golden dragon might fly us there
The moon is across the river
The blue-black river in the mist
A fishing boat is tied to the gate
The water-gate of our inn
What do they mean, the moon and boat?
Maybe the moon and the boat mean nothing
They simply are; they are themselves
Or perhaps we mean the moon and boat
Because of Du Mu and his words
The moon and the boat are forever
The blue-black river is forever
In reading of them so are we
“A Night at the Inn While Travelling”
Three Hundred Tang Poems
Translated by Peter Harris
London: Everyman’s Library Pocket Poets, 2009
Lawrence Hall, HSG
Hobbit Day
22 September
I read that today is Hobbit
Day
On the autumn equinox every
year
I was both delighted and
surprised
Even though in our shared
adventures, dear friends,
Every day is Hobbit Day
I first read The Hobbit in Viet-Nam in a discarded paperback I found at the Station Hospital in DaNang
Lawrence Hall, HSG
Such Men Will Someday Live in Palaces
Cf. Saint Matthew 11
I am only a visitor here, unqualified to speak
Of the incessant sufferings of men of God
Who may not go beyond the compassing wire
To see a reed shaken with the wind
For they sometimes are wind-struck reeds themselves
Planted for a time in this desert of penance
But they are men, and do not easily shake -
When the bitter wind blows they stand up straight
They do not raise their fists against the wind
But rather their hearts in manly strength and faith
Such men will someday live in palaces
Lawrence Hall, HSG
At Rao’s Bakery - Coffee, Croissants, Children, and the
Constitution
At dawn - hot coffee and a fresh croissant
A family grouping at the table next
And a little child whispering to her
mother
The Preamble to the Constitution
I turned and said, “Oh, I want to hear
that again”
Proudly the little girl stood beside
her mom
And in a strong, clear voice began: “We
the People…”
We the people of the United States, in order to form a more
perfect union, establish justice, insure domestic tranquility, provide for the
common defense, promote the general welfare, and secure the blessings of
liberty to ourselves and our posterity, do ordain and establish this
Constitution for the United States of America.
I can’t do that anymore. Can you?
The child certainly earned an ‘A’
today
This coffee / croissant / American
day
Lawrence Hall, HSG
A Road Crew Singing “Red, Red Wine”
A road crew of only two
riding with the fill
In the bed of a county pickup
truck
Patching potholes in the late
summer heat
Singing “Red, Red Wine” over
and over
“Red, Red, Wine”
One takes off his sweat-soaked
striped shirt
A voice from the cab tells
him to put it back on
They stop and take shovels
and out they leap
To shovel with the shovels
fill into holes
“Red, Red Wine”
They sing those three words
over and over
The only words of that song they
know
“Red, Red Wine.”
On a road cratered with holes
and emptied dreams