Lawrence Hall, HSG
These Here So-Called Schools These Days
“Lead, Follow, or Get the H*** Out of the Way”
-a sign on the bulkhead in recruit training
Those coffee-shop cynics drowning in dejection:
Some of them wallow in existential abjection
And some meet every hope with an objection
Or with a sneering, irrelevant deflection
But I did something other than b**** and moan
I voted in my local school board election
Lawrence Hall, HSG
Weary with Dachshunds
Cf. Shakespeare, Sonnet 27
With an improving book I
go to bed
(as P. G. Wodehouse said)
And two improving
dachshunds on my pillow
(as Wodehouse almost said)
They then begin their
journey at my head
Wriggling down to my feet
and back again
They slurple messily from
my bedside glass
And crumple up my copy of
Hercule Poirot
Neither slows: they lick
my nose, they tickle my toes
And will they finally
doze? Nobody knows!
But
When comes the midnight
moon, then all in a cuddly heap
Their little doggie noses snuffle
at last in sleep
Lawrence Hall, HSG
The President of Columbia University is Saddened
“Why must we fight for the right to live, over and over, each time the sun rises?”
― Leon Uris, Exodus
Jews are not welcome in the cool universities
The laboratories are shut against them
Libraries, classrooms, meetings, coffee shops
Here, sir, the bullhorn rules (Hey! Hey! Ho! Ho!)
Administrators smile weakly and shrug:
We cannot guarantee your safety here
The Merovingian president says she is saddened
That Jewish students are harassed and beaten
The halls of academia are lined with swastikas
And 7 October is remembered with glee
Lawrence Hall, HSG
The Golden Gate of Jerusalem
The Gate of Repentance
The
Golden Gate captures the evening moon
Which shines upon the road a convict walked
At the rubbled base a snake pursues a rat
a very
troubled rat
While Roman squaddies stand the middle watch
The Gate of Mercy
The Golden Gate captures
the morning sun
Whence the Messiah comes,
or comes again
He is the Gate Himself, the
Golden Gate
He comes from the Mount of
Olives in golden light
The Golden Gate has been
blocked for centuries -
This will not always be so
Lawrence Hall, HSG
A Nation of Couch Schlubs Blames the Chinese Communists
A question may be brought about ownership
And the turgid content of the daily trawl
But even before the question of censorship
One must ask:
Why is anyone on TikTok at all?
Lawrence Hall, HSG
The Great Gate of Kiev
Mussorgsky’s The Great Gate of Kiev
is no hymn to the people of Ukraine (telegraph.co.uk)
If there was never a Great
Gate of Kiev
Except in Mussorgy’s triumphal
hymn
There ought to have been,
and there will be some day
Trophied with captured
Putinista flags
For now
Wherever a Ukrainian
enters Kiev
By rail or bus, or in
worn-out army boots
He is the Gate, the Knight’s
Gate, the Golden gate
With a chapel and the most
wonderful bells
And the pictures at an
exhibition
Will be ikons of Ukrainian
martyrs
Lawrence Hall, HSG
You are the Poem
Cf. Shakespeare, Sonnet 24
A camera time-stops images
as electrical codes
Formed by Kyanon Kabushiki
Gaisha
And if that is not high art,
then what is?
But codes are not you in
your many dimensions
Your dimensions of perceptions
and being
Your thoughts and
happiness, your eternal soul
Your way of comforting a rescue
kitten
Your way of writing verse
and tasting soup
A camera time-stops images
as electrical codes
But you are a living spring
of happy odes
Lawrence Hall, HSG
Stammering Before
an Audience of One
Cf. Shakespeare, Sonnet 23
As imperfect poets upon the page
We scribble limping iambs and push them to go
To an impatient audience waiting downstage
For well-spoken truth in a metric flow
A poem, a play - each is a rite of love
Humbly offered like an awkward child’s bouquet
Go on, then, give the rhymes a little shove
Even though your feet, your tongue, your hopes – all are clay
And if gratitude and admiration are in her eyes
She has granted you the worthiest prize!
Lawrence
Hall, HSG
“Anglo-Saxon Students Would Not Like
to Be Taught by a Jew”
Cited in
Stanley Kunitz Lyrics, Songs, and Albums |
Genius
To the
Privileged Youth of Columbia University:
As a child
of situational poverty
I am so grateful
for all my Jewish teachers
Including
Moses
Joshua
Jeremiah
Samuel
David
Solomon
Jesus,
Mary, and Joseph
Saint
Peter and the others in The Twelve
Saint Paul
Elie
Weisel
Chaim
Potok
Herman
Wouk
Leon Uris
Franz
Kafka
Leonard
Cohen
Anne Frank
Bernard
Malamud
Isaac
Bashevis Singer
Philip
Roth
Osip
Mandelstam
Saul
Bellow
Isaac
Asimov
Woody
Allen
Edna
Ferber
Yip
Harburg
George
Cukor
Oscar
Hammerstein
Alan
Lerner
Joseph
Brodsky
Rob Morrow
Carl
Reiner
Rod
Serling
Franz
Werfel
Alan Arkin
Claire
Bloom
Leonard
Nimoy
Chaim
Topol
Ed Asner
Mel Brooks
Peter Falk
Werner
Klemperer
Jack
Klugman
Walter
Matthau
Tony
Randall
Mel Torme
John
Banner
Kirk
Douglas
Lorne
Greene
Eli
Wallach
Sam
Wanamaker
Morey
Amsterdam
Leo Genn
Otto
Preminger
Jack Benny
Leslie
Howard
Ernst
Lubitsch
Cecil B.
DeMille
Mortimer
Adler
Allen
Bloom
Harold
Bloom
Irving
Berlin
Boris
Pasternak
Emil
Ludwig
Eric
Wolfgang Korngold
Elmer
Bernstein
Max
Steiner
George
Gershwin
Dimitri
Tiomkin
Samuel
Fuller
Alexander
Korda
Zoltan
Korda
Emeric
Pressburger
Erich von
Stroheim
Billy
Wilder
William
Wyler
Fred
Zinnemann
J. J.
Abrams
Peter
Bogdanovich
Michael
Curtiz
Stanley
Donen
Stanley
Kramer
Howard
Caine
Leon Askin
Robert
Clary
Dinah
Shore
Stephen
Sondheim
Volodymyr Zelinsky
Simon
Schama
Louise
Gluck
Siegfried
Sassoon
Isaac
Rosenberg
Vasily
Grossman
Stanley
Kubrick
Viktor
Frankl
Jonah
Steven
Spielberg
Leonard
Bernstein
And more,
so many more, a cloud of witnesses
Whose
names are written in gold on a scroll in Heaven
But
somehow, in this world of beauty and truth
And humanity’s
aspirations to the good
All you
have found are bullhorns, trash fires, chants
Clinched
fists, obscenities, lies, and shrieking hate
Lawrence Hall, HSG
Humility Through the Looking Glass
Cf. Shakespeare, Sonnet 22
My glass surprises me; it
tells the truth
“Who is that old
man?” I ask myself
And it rebukes me for that
foolish question
I must admit to the glass that
I am old
But when I turn and look
outside myself
And greet the happy sun
and breathe the dawn
Of a day rich with possibilities
And think of you – then I
am young again
I tell my glass it is a
silly glass
And it tells me I am a
silly ass
Lawrence Hall, HSG
Marcus Aurelius Down at the Auto Repair
Marcus Aurelius down at the auto repair –
Now there’s an image, him being an emperor and all
One of those philosophers who think about stuff
Who ask questions and read and write and stuff
If a man complains about the cost of new tires:
Meditations V.9 – “Be not unhappy, or discouraged…”
And
II.4 – “Remember how long you have been putting off these things…”
If a warranty has expired:
VI.53 – “Accustom yourself to listen carefully…”
And
VII.24 – “A scowling look is quite unnatural.”
If the engine is blown:
X.33 – “Now it is not given to a cylinder to move everywhere…”
And
VII.54 – “…it is in your power to accept…your present condition…”
And with that, Marcus steps outside for a cigarette.
(Many quotations attributed to Marcus Aurelius are bogus; these have been verified.)
On his large, electrical sign at Kirbyville Automotive my friend Shannon Davis posted this quote from Marcus Aurelius:
“When you arise in the morning, think of what a precious privilege it is to be alive – to breathe, to think, to enjoy, to love.”
One does not imagine that quotations from a Roman philosopher and emperor are commonly found on roadside advertising in East Texas.
Update: Apparently Marcus Aurelius did not say this at all. This is just another misquote circling around on the InterGossip and believed by people like me who tend to trust maybe a little too much.
But I wish the man had said it anyway.
Lawrence
Hall, HSG
But Truly Write
Cf. Shakespeare,
Sonnet 21
…poems are gatherings
of words, in good order, in simple order, plain and appealing.
-Mary Oliver, A Poetry
Handbook, p. 77
A line of
contemporary prosetry
Is a catalogue
of florid structures and worn-out cliches
Pancaked
with adverbs and tiresome metaphors
Flung down
in a confusion of unconnected gasps
If you
have something to say, then say it
Then tidy
up the lines – like washing your face
With soap
and water and a cotton towel
And then
admire the sunlit, fresh-air truth
Craft your
lines of transcendent poetry
As clean
sharp-edg’ed truth in well-scrubbed words
Lawrence Hall, HSG
Shakespeare, Venus, and the Travelling Salesman
Cf. Shakespeare, Sonnet 19
Dear Will,
About your obsession with
mortality:
Transitions and death are
essentials in life
And we must face the obsequies
of ashes or earth
But there are other topics
upon which to write
Let us not consider funerals
today
Let us sit upon the lawn
and smoke our pipes
And write about new leaves
on ancient oaks
(You’ll pen far better
lines; you always do)
Today we’ll ignore our own
mortality
And tell inappropriate
jokes about Venus
and a travelling salesman
Lawrence Hall, HSG
I Will Not Compare
You to a Summer’s Day
Cf. Shakespeare, Sonnet 18
I will not compare you to a summer’s day
Summer is heat, humidity, and drought
A disapproving sun burning the earth
A dusty, weedy landscape fit only for snakes
Instead, you are a perfect autumn day
A day of good old sweaters and leafy walks
Invigorating winds all fresh from the north
And inside, cups of cocoa and a merry fire
I will not compare you to a summer’s day
Your autumn is far more lovely and temperate
Lawrence Hall, HSG
Time is not a
Bloody Tyrant
Cf. Shakespeare, Sonnet 16
Time cannot be a tyrant; it is but a created thing
Like bluebonnets, butterflies, and bumblebees
Painted with pencil or pen by a Hand divine
And set in place as a measure of being
Time cannot be our enemy; we live along it
And like the ground it stabilizes us in place
And like our eyes it gives us vision to see
Each other in our Spirited nobility
Life is not what we take nor what is taken
But what we bring -
Time cannot be a tyrant; it is but a created thing
Lawrence Hall, HSG
A Dollar Box of Crayolas®™
I wanted the biggest box of Crayolas
I had to have the biggest box of Crayolas
I could build worlds with the biggest box of Crayolas
I needed that biggest box of Crayolas!
But the wise voice of situational poverty spoke:
“I am not spending a dollar on a box of Crayolas.”
The biggest box of Crayolas is now about four dollars
Allowing for inflation, much cheaper than in ‘55
I should go buy the biggest box of Crayolas
Maybe I can find a Big Chief Tablet®™ to go with it
Lawrence Hall, HSG
On the Happy
Occasion of Completing a Wordle in Two Lines
(Scribbled with a little help from Shelley)
Look upon my Verbs, ye Mighty, and despair!
No more lines remain. Round the decay
Of my online Competition, of vocabulary bare
The lone and level squares stretch far away
Lawrence Hall, HSG
A Lucky Dachshund’s Foot
Luna-Dog sat with a stick in her jaws
The sort of thing a little dachshund gnaws
(chewing everything is one of a puppy’s laws)
But a look in her eyes gave me some pause –
It wasn’t a stick; it was one of a bunny’s paws!
Yuck.
Time for church.
-The End-
Lawrence Hall, HSG
Methinks I Have Astronomy
Cf. Shakespeare, Sonnet 14
Monday, 8 April 2024
Methinks I have astronomy;
it must be so:
Today the moon eclipsed
the jovial sun
And through the clouds and
rain a darkness ruled
But with my little car’s
headlights I backed it down
Forswearing lenses I
watched the world instead
The springtime greens
darkening almost to grey
And boiling clouds
darkening almost to black
And from the thunder rain wreaking
rivulets
Methinks I have astronomy;
it must be so:
I see beyond this darkness
your eternal glow
Lawrence Hall, HSG
But Who Else Could You Be?
Cf. Shakespeare, Sonnet 13
O that I were myself? Of course I am
Who else could I possibly want to be?
No one rocks a morning mirror like me
(and probably no one wants to do so)
My beloved mother said I was special
(I think that was a compliment – maybe?)
And you’re pretty nifty yourself, you know -
I like the cut of your metaphorical jib
Lawrence Hall, HSG
An Afternoon LITE A FINE PILSNER BEER Walk
Along Beer Can Road and County Dump Extension
Dewberries LITE A FINE PILSNER BEER sassafras seedlings LITE A FINE PILSNER BEER Virginia creeper LITE A FINE PILSNER BEER pine cones LITE A FINE PILSNER BEER crumbling oak leaves from last summer LITE A FINE PILSNER BEER winds sighing in the pine tops LITE A FINE PILSNER BEER a little plum tree LITE A FINE PILSNER BEER Canada goldenrod LITE A FINE PILSNER BEER poplar LITE A FINE PILSNER BEER swamp oak LITE A FINE PILSNER BEER mourning doves LITE A FINE PILSNER BEER slanting evening sunlight LITE A FINE PILSNER BEER Chickasaw plum LITE A FINE PILSNER BEER nightshade LITE A FINE PILSNER BEER red spider lilies LITE A FINE PILSNER BEER a skink bluebonnets LITE A FINE PILSNER BEER clouds in the west LITE A FINE PILSNER BEER spiderwort LITE A FINE PILSNER BEER a long eared rabbit loping across the road LITE A FINE PILSNER BEER sorrel LITE A FINE PILSNER BEER a feather from a bluebird LITE A FINE PILSNER BEER waving field grasses LITE A FINE PILSNER BEER the neighbor’s cows browsing in peace LITE A FINE PILSNER BEER a crane flying up from a pond LITE A FINE PILSNER BEER crows fussing at me from the woods LITE A FINE PILSNER BEER…
Lawrence Hall, HSG
I Do Not Count the Clock
Cf. Shakespeare, Sonnet 12
I do not count the clock
when I’m outside
I do not count the leaves,
fallen and sere
I do not count the silver
in your hair
Though I celebrate them
all the same
(But not
the clock; there is no love in clocks)
These golden days have
beauties of their own
Their richness born from
the promises of spring
The culminations of
summer’s growing days
Crowned with silver by the
first falling frost
I do not count the clock
when I’m outside
I do not count the clock
when I’m with you
Lawrence Hall, HSG
So Fast Thou Grow’st
Cf. Shakespeare, Sonnet 11
I put something out there in the
universe…
-Chris-in-the-Morning, Northern
Exposure
You will make something
beautiful in any event
Even if only a silly
ceramic frog
Holding a perfectly
pointless umbrella
Upon the tree-stump where
you feed the birds
Your silly ceramic frog
will someday break
The stump will rot away
into the earth
The birds will live
through their generations
And you will be but
whisperings in the wind
But you make life
beautiful in any event:
It is a forever that you
put into the universe
Lawrence Hall, HSG
Make Thee Another Self
Cf. Shakespeare, Sonnet 10
I thought I heard you saying it was a pity...I never had any children. But you're wrong. I have. Thousands of them. Thousands of them...and all boys.
-Mr. Chips in Goodbye, Mr. Chips
After the Order of Saint Joseph, all men are fathers
Commanded by God to protect all children
Permitted by God to protect all children
Empowered by God to protect all children
After the Order of Saint Joseph, all men are teachers
With fishin’ rod and book and whittlin’ knife
With garden and plow and fixing what needs to be fixed
With clean and manly speech, example, and work
All men have children, thousands of them, because
After the Order of Saint Joseph, all men are fathers
Lawrence Hall, HSG
Are We All
Prisoners of War?
My great-grandfather was a tailor, they say
Stern of mien, impeccable in his dress
I have one picture of him, from 1912
White-bearded, thin, resting on the family porch
My great-grandfather was made a prisoner of war
At Sailor’s Creek, for he had found the wrong side
And the government found his children for other wars
The Aisne in 1918, Zwickau in 1945, the Vam Co Tay in 1970
There are few tailors now, but lots of soldiers -
Maybe we are all prisoners of war
Cf. Sailor’s Creek / Sayler’s
Creek / Saylor’s Creek, 6 April 1865.
Lawrence Hall, HSG
One Pleasing Note Do Sing
Cf. Shakespeare, Sonnet 8
V: Where is my shirt; I can’t find it anywhere!
R: Did you look in the closet? In the dryer?
V: Yes! And I put it in the washing machine yesterday!
R: You didn’t tell me! I didn’t wash clothes yesterday!
V: You always wash clothes on Saturday!
R: That’s a pattern, not an immutable rule!
V: You should have told me that you didn’t wash!
R: Am I my husband’s keeper? Have you not eyes?
V: Can we not with one pleasing note sing?
R: Can you not sing to the washing machine?
No Extra Charge for Opening Your Packages Before Delivery
Lawrence Hall, HSG
To a Political Friend
Who Politically Accused Me
of Having My Head in the Sand Politically
Our lives no longer feel ground under them
-Mandelstam, “The Stalin Epigram”
I have no illusions
I have no solutions
I have Mr. Biden and
Mr. Trump
(And occasional
basal cell carcinomas)
I can be silenced in fear
By their suicide sides
But I have a brain
(“…an
ill-favoured thing, sir, but mine own.”)
And so to them
I am dangerous
If I am noticed at all
Lawrence Hall, HSG
His Sacred Majesty
Cf. Shakespeare, Sonnet 7
We are told that we mustn’t worship the sun
Nor even truth, but rather each shiny new toy
Powered by batteries and our unhappy wants
Endlessly discharging our minds and souls
We are told that we mustn’t worship the sun
But rather the mechanical fabrications of our hands
Upon the orders of our Lilith-draped masters
To STEM the possibility of thought
We probably shouldn’t worship the sun
But we are still free to think highly of him
