Monday, March 31, 2014
The First Hummingbird of Spring
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
The First Hummingbird of Spring
O wing’ed messenger of innocence,
Aloft among the pollinating flowers,
At last you have returned from Mexico
And warm months there among soft latitudes
Where little birds can make a holiday
Far, far away from withering Arctic winds.
O tiny traveler, what souvenirs
Did you declare to customs at the Rio Grande?
South winds to tell the flowers to wake up
And Rosaries of morning fogs to bless
The yawning grasses with a morning drink,
And fresh new sunlight for the industrious bees.
O buzzing and impatient little friend!
Just wait a minute, your breakfast is coming -
The old glass feeder washed and packed away
In harvest-rich October’s golden light
Must be recovered and refreshed for you,
And
How good it is to see you home again.
Hey, Nice Little Suitcase You Got Here. Hate to See Anything Happen to It.
Mack
Hall, HSG
Hey, Nice
Little Suitcase You Got Here.
Hate to See
Anything Happen to It.
“This is
disinfectant. Use it.”
-Train Guard
in Doctor Zhivago
When
George Custer and I left Viet-Nam (poor George got into some fracas in the
Dakotas later on), every departing passenger was required to go to confession
before being subject to a pat-down.
The
confessional was a little walk-through closet curtained on both ends. The sign advised the passenger that if he was
carrying home instruments of destruction for later use to repent of any such
idea and in the privacy of the closet leave the things-that-go-boom in a little
box provided for them.
My
seatmate, a fellow named Wellington (he later visited Belgium and designed
boots or something), was much amused when I told him that out of curiosity I
had peeked into the box and had seen pistols, .50-cal machine-gun rounds,
bayonets, knuckle-dusters, and a couple of hand grenades.
Lo
these fifty years later no such courtesy or privacy is extended to airline
passengers: unhappy people of the sort our mothers warned us against touch us
in ways once regarded as inappropriate outside the bonds of wedlock.
As
for your toothbrush and spare socks, at Los Angeles International Airport,
familiarly known as LAX(ative), there is no need to leave things in a little
box for others to take away; the baggage smashers will go into your old
Samsonite and decided for themselves which of your earthly goods they will
endow themselves with.
Passengers,
by order of Higher Authority, must not / may not / will not secure their bags except
with a TSA-approved lock to which everyone in Christendom, Cathay, and
Cucamonga has a key.
Last
week the Los Angeles police and the airport police (everyone has a police force
these days; thinking of getting one myself) arrested a number of workers for
liberating the people’s goods from the Belly of the Beast. Apparently this criminal gang / activist
group is an ongoing problem for LAX(ative), and like Captain Reynaud’s
Casablanca Police Department the local authorities make a few arrests every now
and then, claim to be shocked, shocked that there is pilfering going on, and then steal Sam’s piano.
In
Casablanca the response to a crime is
“Round up the usual suspects.” In an
American airport the response is “Certain measures have been implemented…”
broadcast over and over from Big Brother’s overhead speakers.
When
the unhappy people (maybe it’s the polyester uniforms) hired to paw through
your stuff paw through your stuff, they ask “Did anyone else help pack your
suitcase?”
And
then lower down in one of the circles of (Newark) others who are not hired to
paw through your stuff paw through your stuff, they help you unpack your
suitcase before you even board the plane.
This
is why the airline charges you to check your bag.
The
cleaners, loaders, and security at American airports, unlike the paying
passengers, are not inspected, not checked, not watched, and not regulated. What
is to prevent some resentful son of toil from accepting a nice gift in a fat
envelope in exchange for placing another fat envelope in your luggage?
When
the Agency for Something Or Other reconstructs the accident and analyzes
fragments of your suitcase, they can then tell your survivors that “Hey, your
old daddy took a bomb on board. What did
you know about this? We’re going to
seize – um, sequester – all your property, and, hey, have you visited
Guantanamo this time of year? They say
it’s lovely.”
While
the Los Angeles police are investigating the LAX(ative) Chapter of the Comradely
Brotherhood of This and That Oppressed Workers International, perhaps Captain
Reynaud could ask them if they know where your lost youth is. They may have pinched that too.
-30-
Monday, March 24, 2014
Ode to a Dead Coral Snake in the Road
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Ode to a Dead Coral Snake in the Road
(Where do the Neurotoxins Go?)
Red and yellow kill a fellow
But
Thanks to the tread, you’re now real dead.
High Noon at the Bird Feeder
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
High Noon at the Bird Feeder
A little dog, a streak of dachshund red,
Across the grass speeds to a squirrel’s doom
She wants its blood, she wants its flesh, she wants it dead;
Ripped, shredded, and torn, it will need no tomb.
The fat old squirrel, a fluff of forest grey,
Is unimpressed by doggie dementia;
To Liesl’s grief he leaps and climbs away -
Never underestimate the Order Rodentia!
Liesl’s squirrel clings to a low-hanging limb
And chatters abuse at the angry pup
Who spins and barks and spins and barks at him
Laughing among the leaves, and climbing higher up.
So Liesl snorts and sneers, and marks the ground;
She accepts not defeat, nor lingers in sorrow;
For Liesl and squirrel it’s their daily round;
They’ll go it again, same time tomorrow.
Bipolar Vortex
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
Bipolar Vortex
Global warming? The concept’s tired and old,
For one only knows that today is cold.
The Frogs of January
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
The Frogs of January
Have the frogs of January lost their minds?
This is the season of reptilian sleep,
To leave the winter’s frozen world behind
And keep their dormant lives in storage deep
This balmy dusk is not a time for song;
This temporary warmth is but a cruel tease;
Frogs won’t sing through this winter dusk for long:
The soft winds whisper of a coming freeze.
What Do the Trees Talk About
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
What do the Trees Talk About?
A damp wind blustering from the east
Says nothing for itself but sets
The trees to talking among themselves
Of matters high indeed, high up
Where branches wave their limbs about
While fussing about the weather.
Seven Silent Buzzards
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Seven Silent Buzzards
Some seven or so so-silent buzzards
Lurk in the pine-tops in the last of the sun
Wondering if humans walking for their health
Measuring their paces with little machines
Taste good when fresh (it’s all about the flesh).
Longbows and Rosary Beads
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Longbows and Rosary Beads
For Pearl of Tyburn
Our happy England is Our Lady’s dowry
An island of longbows and rosary beads,
Where we are proud to work, to pray, to fight,
To love the land and sea and misty skies
Our happy England is a thoughtful land
An island of writers, scholars, and rogues
Whose stories, sonnets, songs create new worlds,
A commonwealth of art for the ages
Our happy England is not bound by coasts,
By distances or time. Our island is
An empire of the mind, as Churchill said,
The blessed Avalon of our hearts’ desires.
Published in Longbows and Rosary Beads (http://longbowsandrosarybeads.blogspot.com/ ),
5 January 2014
Deep Dusk
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Deep Dusk
A skeleton of dead black branches frame
The falling sliver of January moon
While an owl’s threats echo in the darkening woods
And cold stars measure out the universe.
Lenin's Dream
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
Lenin’s Dream
Imagine slaves buying their chains
Proudly bragging about their chains
Prettily decorating their chains
Gloriously celebrating their chains
And accessorizing their chains
Waiting patiently in long queues
All lined up by ones and by twos
Uniform in their chemical shoes
Beast-marked with their camp tattoos
Obedient to the latest news
Desperate for the latest ‘phone
Desperate never to be alone
Desperate for approval shown
Desperate for a cool ring tone
Desperate not to be unknown
Canary in a Coal Mine
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Canary in a Coal Mine
If a canary dies, who notices?
One little bird, of no significance -
Except for a specific circumstance -
Sacrifices its life to tell a tale.
If two canaries die, who notices?
Two little birds, of slight significance -
Except for a specific circumstance -
Sacrifice their lives to caution us.
If all canaries die, who then is left
To grasp, to gasp the truth learned far too late -
Civilization dies one canary at a time
Tiny corpses littering the mine.
Semester Exam
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Semester Exam
Fluorescents flicker and fall upon bowed heads
And printed letter-paper, organized
By title, paragraph, number, and line,
Interrogations set in Bookman Old Style
And then words fall, flung bravely to each sheet
As desperate, inky thoughts flailing for breath
While to battered be by split infinitives
Demanding an A, praying for a prom date.
Janus Laughs
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Janus Laughs
Old Janus surely laughs at our mistakes
In thinking that the world begins again,
That pages turned in calendars and books
Reduce mysteries into measurements
Sunday, March 23, 2014
Quebec's Separation Anxiety
Mack Hall, HSG
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Separation Anxiety
Second only to the matter of the missing Malaysian aircraft and Miley Khardassian’s missing clothing, the world is seriously concerned about what small province should be attached to what country.
We refer, of course, to Quebec, whose elected provincial government on occasion reminds one of the 18-year-old cheerleader who sued her parents for not understanding her preciousness enough to give her lots and lots of money.
Once upon a time France was the gros chien of European colonizers in North America east of the Rio Grande. The English, Dutch, and Spanish possessions were relatively small beachheads surrounded by the huge territories that were Nouvelle-France.
Three hundred years later all that is left of France in North America is St. Pierre et Miquelon (http://www.st-pierre-et-miquelon.com/en/), a few small islands off the coast of Newfoundland. As an aside, while all history is fascinating, the brilliant 1941 Christmas eve raid by the Free French on what Secretary of State Cordell Hull dismissed as “two rocks” is a wonderful story (http://www.amazon.com/Free-French-Invasion-Miquelon-Affaire/dp/096842290X).
With the defeat of the French at Quebec in 1759, and then nasty little Napoleon’s sale of the rest of Nouvelle-France, about one-third of the present USA, in 1803, France was pretty much through in North America. But was all that land Napoleon’s to sell? Besides the reality that Napoleon was a usurper and a tyrant with no legal claim to anything, Spain too said all that territory was theirs.
None of them asked the First Nations who owned it, of course.
Which leads the reader back to Quebec, Canada’s largest province, though it is smaller than Nunavit, which is a territory and not a province, and Canada is confusing.
A look at the map reminds the reader that Quebec, all by itself, is a great big ol’ chunk (grand vieux marceau) of Canada. In the 1960s and 1970s a Francophone separatist movement, through murder and intimidation, generated a civil war in the province which was resolved through mass arrests, tanks in the streets of Montreal, and curious and confusing compromises with the federal government and internally.
Quebec has since voted on independence from the rest of Canada several times, so far choosing to remain, but once again the Parti Quebecois is pushing the matter.
No one seems to have asked the other Canadian provinces and territories if they wish Quebec to go away. Quebec suffers the highest taxes and the greatest debt (http://www.vigile.net/Quebec-debt-highest-in-Canada-and) of any state or province in North America. Only a few provinces are net providers of revenue to Canada as a whole, which means they must pay higher taxes to support the net takers. A visitor to Canada notes that the prices of goods there are quite reasonable until the tax is added – and there is the economic chienne-gifle.
What does all this have to do with the USA? A great deal. Canada is this nation’s biggest trading partner (http://www.census.gov/foreign-trade/statistics/highlights/top/top1401yr.html). Not only that, Canada is the USA’s best friend; given the politics of our time, Canada may be our only friend. The border between Canada and the USA is artificial; the North American economy transcends that mapped but otherwise unreal line across the continent, and we really are one economy.
Instability and lack of leadership in the USA (the Keystone pipeline comes to mind) affect everyone from Nunavit to Mexico City. Similarly, instability and lack of leadership in Quebec affect everyone from Mexico City to Nunavit.
The Crimean peninsula is relatively important to us -- it is certainly important to the Crimeans – but the decisions the people of Quebec make in the next year or so are of immediate urgency to them and to us.
One wonders if a lonely little USA destroyer will appear in a “training exercise” among someone’s fishing nets along the St. Lawrence.
-30-
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Separation Anxiety
Second only to the matter of the missing Malaysian aircraft and Miley Khardassian’s missing clothing, the world is seriously concerned about what small province should be attached to what country.
We refer, of course, to Quebec, whose elected provincial government on occasion reminds one of the 18-year-old cheerleader who sued her parents for not understanding her preciousness enough to give her lots and lots of money.
Once upon a time France was the gros chien of European colonizers in North America east of the Rio Grande. The English, Dutch, and Spanish possessions were relatively small beachheads surrounded by the huge territories that were Nouvelle-France.
Three hundred years later all that is left of France in North America is St. Pierre et Miquelon (http://www.st-pierre-et-miquelon.com/en/), a few small islands off the coast of Newfoundland. As an aside, while all history is fascinating, the brilliant 1941 Christmas eve raid by the Free French on what Secretary of State Cordell Hull dismissed as “two rocks” is a wonderful story (http://www.amazon.com/Free-French-Invasion-Miquelon-Affaire/dp/096842290X).
With the defeat of the French at Quebec in 1759, and then nasty little Napoleon’s sale of the rest of Nouvelle-France, about one-third of the present USA, in 1803, France was pretty much through in North America. But was all that land Napoleon’s to sell? Besides the reality that Napoleon was a usurper and a tyrant with no legal claim to anything, Spain too said all that territory was theirs.
None of them asked the First Nations who owned it, of course.
Which leads the reader back to Quebec, Canada’s largest province, though it is smaller than Nunavit, which is a territory and not a province, and Canada is confusing.
A look at the map reminds the reader that Quebec, all by itself, is a great big ol’ chunk (grand vieux marceau) of Canada. In the 1960s and 1970s a Francophone separatist movement, through murder and intimidation, generated a civil war in the province which was resolved through mass arrests, tanks in the streets of Montreal, and curious and confusing compromises with the federal government and internally.
Quebec has since voted on independence from the rest of Canada several times, so far choosing to remain, but once again the Parti Quebecois is pushing the matter.
No one seems to have asked the other Canadian provinces and territories if they wish Quebec to go away. Quebec suffers the highest taxes and the greatest debt (http://www.vigile.net/Quebec-debt-highest-in-Canada-and) of any state or province in North America. Only a few provinces are net providers of revenue to Canada as a whole, which means they must pay higher taxes to support the net takers. A visitor to Canada notes that the prices of goods there are quite reasonable until the tax is added – and there is the economic chienne-gifle.
What does all this have to do with the USA? A great deal. Canada is this nation’s biggest trading partner (http://www.census.gov/foreign-trade/statistics/highlights/top/top1401yr.html). Not only that, Canada is the USA’s best friend; given the politics of our time, Canada may be our only friend. The border between Canada and the USA is artificial; the North American economy transcends that mapped but otherwise unreal line across the continent, and we really are one economy.
Instability and lack of leadership in the USA (the Keystone pipeline comes to mind) affect everyone from Nunavit to Mexico City. Similarly, instability and lack of leadership in Quebec affect everyone from Mexico City to Nunavit.
The Crimean peninsula is relatively important to us -- it is certainly important to the Crimeans – but the decisions the people of Quebec make in the next year or so are of immediate urgency to them and to us.
One wonders if a lonely little USA destroyer will appear in a “training exercise” among someone’s fishing nets along the St. Lawrence.
-30-
Music Download on the Roof - A New Silent Musical
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Music Download on the Roof – A New Silent Musical
“Rabbi, is there a blessing for the Czar?”
“A blessing for the Czar – yes, on my ‘blog:
PAGE NOT AVAILABLE. CHECK CONNECTION.
Mhall46184@aol.com
Music Download on the Roof – A New Silent Musical
“Rabbi, is there a blessing for the Czar?”
“A blessing for the Czar – yes, on my ‘blog:
PAGE NOT AVAILABLE. CHECK CONNECTION.
A Catholic Funeral
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
A Catholic Funeral
Oh, our sister is dead; what is to be?
Shall we bury her with a Rosary?
No, those pre-Vatican II days are gone:
We’ll fold into her hands her new Iphone!
Mhall46184@aol.com
A Catholic Funeral
Oh, our sister is dead; what is to be?
Shall we bury her with a Rosary?
No, those pre-Vatican II days are gone:
We’ll fold into her hands her new Iphone!
A Boy and His Dinosaur
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
A Boy and His Dinosaur
In another world, a silent world within,
The dominant species are dinosaurs.
Never having fallen, no evil obtains,
And beneficent reptiles live there as -
As innocently as butterflies.
In his quiet world of gentle reptilians
A little boy is never without a friend,
A Saurian with an unpronounceable name,
To share a cave, a thought, a book, a toy,
And so that world with a best-friend dinosaur
Is the child’s real world, the only one
Where he knows love.
mhall46184@aol.com
A Boy and His Dinosaur
In another world, a silent world within,
The dominant species are dinosaurs.
Never having fallen, no evil obtains,
And beneficent reptiles live there as -
As innocently as butterflies.
In his quiet world of gentle reptilians
A little boy is never without a friend,
A Saurian with an unpronounceable name,
To share a cave, a thought, a book, a toy,
And so that world with a best-friend dinosaur
Is the child’s real world, the only one
Where he knows love.
The Westminster Chinese Chimes
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
The Westminster Chinese Chimes
An elegant clock ticks on the mantelpiece
Proclaiming the hours with an electric chime
Sarah thinks this violates household peace
And the cat, well, he can’t even tell time.
Mhall46184@aol.com
The Westminster Chinese Chimes
An elegant clock ticks on the mantelpiece
Proclaiming the hours with an electric chime
Sarah thinks this violates household peace
And the cat, well, he can’t even tell time.
The Homeowners' Association
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
The Homeowners’ Association
For Robin
“Your attitude’s been noticed, comrade.”
- Block Warden to Yuri in Doctor Zhivago
-
When in chill autumn a golden leaf falls
The Homeowners’ Ass. sends an indictment
And if after five one vacuums the halls
The Homeowners’ Ass. yelps “Too much excitement!”
Then when in a rainstorm you park your car
The Homeowners’ Ass. alerts snooping eyes
And fines you because you’re an inch too far -
“Your attitude’s been noticed,” hiss the spies
Comes the spring, and the world turns to green
The Homeowners’ Ass. disapproves of your grass
Somehow it’s ragged, you know what we mean…
“Oh, go blow it out your Homeowners’ Ass.!”
mhall46184@aol.com
The Homeowners’ Association
For Robin
“Your attitude’s been noticed, comrade.”
- Block Warden to Yuri in Doctor Zhivago
-
When in chill autumn a golden leaf falls
The Homeowners’ Ass. sends an indictment
And if after five one vacuums the halls
The Homeowners’ Ass. yelps “Too much excitement!”
Then when in a rainstorm you park your car
The Homeowners’ Ass. alerts snooping eyes
And fines you because you’re an inch too far -
“Your attitude’s been noticed,” hiss the spies
Comes the spring, and the world turns to green
The Homeowners’ Ass. disapproves of your grass
Somehow it’s ragged, you know what we mean…
“Oh, go blow it out your Homeowners’ Ass.!”
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