June 20, 2008

We contemplate eternity
Beneath the vast indifference of heaven



Cara Ober, Lies are Wishes in Disguise, 2007

Living the Chemical Life
-- by Chris Anderson

I have to admit that I don't care about the historical Jesus.
One way or the other.
I've always thought there were larger forces at work.
The sun and the wind. The sadness that comes in the afternoon.
Did you know that our bones are only 10 years old?
No matter how old we are, it's always the same.
Something to do with cells, I guess. With regeneration.
There are miracles like this all over the place,
in everybody's bloodstream, and that's alright with me.
Doris Day was once marooned on an island with another man.
Years went by and her husband, James Garner,
was about to marry another woman. Polly Bergen.
But then Doris came back and sang a lullaby to her kids,
then tucked them into bed. And they didn't even know who
she was.
I think that life is just like this.
Sometimes we are the stone and the Spirit is the river.
Sometimes we are the mountain and the Spirit is the rain.


Artless
-- by Barbara Crooker

The art of blurbing isn't hard to master.
Pick three quick phrases, fill them in with quotes,
so full of compliments, they're thick as plaster.

So what if all of this just seems like bluster?
Don't try to separate the sheep from goats.
The art of blurbing isn't hard to master.

"No ideal reader lets this book go past her."
Use adjectives like luminous but note
the compliments have strata, layers, plaster.

A clever tone, some irony for good measure
will cover up the fact that it's all bloat.
The art of blurbing isn't hard to master.

Your own true thoughts? They're open to conjecture.
Keep going, build your sentences by rote.
So slap those compliments sky high, go faster.

Just keep on going, like a telecaster
who believes in every word he ever wrote.
The art of blurbing is not hard to master,
the compliments so thick (it's cracked!) like plaster.


I Am Not Yours
-- by Sara Teasdale

I am not yours, not lost in you,
Not lost, although I long to be
Lost as a candle lit at noon,
Lost as a snowflake in the sea.

You love me, and I find you still
A spirit beautiful and bright,
Yet I am I, who long to be
Lost as a light is lost in light.

Oh plunge me deep in love -- put out
My senses, leave me deaf and blind,
Swept by the tempest of your love,
A taper in a rushing wind.

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