Grackles: Another Early College Poem

GRACKLES

 

Emptied by summer, the parking lot

Shimmered like silver, scoured by rain,

Flared to gray fire under the early sun.

I saw grackles wading in disdain

 

Of the wet ground, pecking the grass

That grew in a fringe. The fronds

Waved above water in the morning wind,

Speckling with dew the rain-fed ponds.

 

Drawn by the nightly rain, snails crawled,

Salting the dark pavement with ghostly white.

The grackles watched sideways with fly-green eyes,

Then snapped at their shells with delight.

 

I left the grackles sporting there,

Playing, the free lords of the day.

I sighed, bent down, took up my books,

And, slavelike, heavy, went my way.

Notes

Why grackles? I think mainly because I liked saying 'grackle.' It seems I had only recently discovered the technical name of these 'black birds,' and their ubiquity and commonness put them on a par with sparrows as symbols of the everyday struggle to survive. I was waiting for a shuttlebus at the college parking lot, a rather dreary and interminable process.

AI Embellishments of Old Illustrations

A Weak and Foolish Thing

 

Forest Garden

FOREST GARDEN

 

There's a forest in the garden

Where, shaded by tomato trees,

Plastic tigers, grave and solemn,

Lie and take their noon-day ease.

 

Where Pop has built the earthen dams

All around the eggplant plot,

Brown and baggy plastic hippos

Belch, and blow their bubbling snot.

 

High in twisted clover stems

Monkeys swing, tree to tree.

Amid the clods and shells of snails

Roam great gorillas, fierce and free.

 

I lie watching on my stomach,

Cautiously, through jungle grass,

A gray line of new elephants

As they ponderously plod past.

 

2021 Diary: The Last Few Days of July

7/29/2021: Up about 5 AM, prayers and Bible. Fell asleep during cartoons. A little after 9 AM went to FD, got (besides some food) a new belt and the Kung Fu Panda trilogy. Watched “Heartbreak House” until about noon. Went in at 3:30 PM to cook supper (chili). Kept expecting Kam to come home, but Susan took him to the shop. Burst of wind and rain about 5 PM. When I went in to wash dishes at 8 PM, I could hardly get anything out of Kam about the TV interview, just that he thought it went well. Worked up the final integration of the Birthday Books into the shelves and read about half of “Padre Porko”. Would that July would end.

 

7/30/2021: Up at 5 AM.  Prayers, Bible. Cartoons. Checked my RBFCU account, saw it had the next deposits, so ordered from HEB. Started frying taters about 1 PM, or at least gathering the stuff and prepping. At 2 PM went out and waited and the delivery came, this time by a nice lady aided by her son. I always wonder if people are judging me by Susan’s house, not realizing that I am personally poorer than they are (probably) (though rich in family love). Humped everything in in FIVE loads, though it was helped by carrying the sodas and teas in a Walmart cloth bag. Called John and we had a long yak. Done frying by 3:30 PM. Went in and as I cooked the fish Kameron and I waited for and watched his appearance on KENS news. It was a very creditable performance. They had him wear a hat to be more interesting. Went in and washed at 7:30 PM, then made myself a big burger. Bed about 9:30 PM.

 

7/31/2021: Up about 5 AM again. Prayers and caught up diary. Bible. Cartoons at 6 AM, and I slept in and out through them until 8 AM. Had eggs and cheese at breakfast. At 11 AM took trash out and talked with Susan; she was going through the storehouse to find a mama-san cushion for Kam. Reading “A Celtic Temperament” on and off all day. Played DQ8 a while. For lunch/dinner (about 3:30 PM) had hamburger, onion, cauliflower, and cheese mix. It’s now 7 PM and I’m about halfway through ACT. Saturdays are so dreadfully lonely. I seldom see anyone as they are all busy and I have no cooking to do.

Notes

'Oh my God, I was so happy then!' 'Happy? You were miserable! You told me so yourself!' 'I was happy, I just didn't know it.' I needn't have fretted so. All Julys end ... inevitably.

 

Daily Bible Readings for Today's Mass

 Sixteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 106

Reading 1

Wisdom 12:13, 16-19

There is no god besides you who have the care of all,
that you need show you have not unjustly condemned.
For your might is the source of justice;
your mastery over all things makes you lenient to all.
For you show your might when the perfection of your power is disbelieved;
and in those who know you, you rebuke temerity.
But though you are master of might, you judge with clemency,
and with much lenience you govern us;
for power, whenever you will, attends you.
And you taught your people, by these deeds,
that those who are just must be kind;
and you gave your children good ground for hope
that you would permit repentance for their sins.
 

Responsorial Psalm

Psalm 86:5-6, 9-10, 15-16

R. (5a) Lord, you are good and forgiving.
You, O LORD, are good and forgiving,
abounding in kindness to all who call upon you.
Hearken, O LORD, to my prayer
and attend to the sound of my pleading.
R. Lord, you are good and forgiving.
All the nations you have made shall come
and worship you, O LORD,
and glorify your name.
For you are great, and you do wondrous deeds;
you alone are God.
R. Lord, you are good and forgiving.
You, O LORD, are a God merciful and gracious,
slow to anger, abounding in kindness and fidelity.
Turn toward me, and have pity on me;
give your strength to your servant.
R. Lord, you are good and forgiving.
 

Reading 2

Romans 8:26-27

Brothers and sisters:
The Spirit comes to the aid of our weakness;
for we do not know how to pray as we ought,
but the Spirit himself intercedes with inexpressible groanings. 
And the one who searches hearts
knows what is the intention of the Spirit,
because he intercedes for the holy ones
according to God's will.
 

Alleluia

Cf. Matthew 11:25

R. Alleluia, alleluia.
Blessed are you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth;
you have revealed to little ones the mysteries of the kingdom.
R. Alleluia, alleluia.
 

Gospel

Matthew 13:24-43

Jesus proposed another parable to the crowds, saying:
"The kingdom of heaven may be likened
to a man who sowed good seed in his field. 
While everyone was asleep his enemy came
and sowed weeds all through the wheat, and then went off. 
When the crop grew and bore fruit, the weeds appeared as well. 
The slaves of the householder came to him and said,
'Master, did you not sow good seed in your field? 
Where have the weeds come from?'
He answered, 'An enemy has done this.'
His slaves said to him,
'Do you want us to go and pull them up?'
He replied, 'No, if you pull up the weeds
you might uproot the wheat along with them. 
Let them grow together until harvest;
then at harvest time I will say to the harvesters,
"First collect the weeds and tie them in bundles for burning;
but gather the wheat into my barn."'"

He proposed another parable to them. 
"The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed
that a person took and sowed in a field. 
It is the smallest of all the seeds,
yet when full-grown it is the largest of plants. 
It becomes a large bush,
and the 'birds of the sky come and dwell in its branches.'"

He spoke to them another parable. 
"The kingdom of heaven is like yeast
that a woman took and mixed with three measures of wheat flour
until the whole batch was leavened."

All these things Jesus spoke to the crowds in parables. 
He spoke to them only in parables,
to fulfill what had been said through the prophet:
I will open my mouth in parables,
I will announce what has lain hidden from the foundation
of the world.

Then, dismissing the crowds, he went into the house. 
His disciples approached him and said,
"Explain to us the parable of the weeds in the field." 
He said in reply, "He who sows good seed is the Son of Man,
the field is the world, the good seed the children of the kingdom. 
The weeds are the children of the evil one,
and the enemy who sows them is the devil.
The harvest is the end of the age, and the harvesters are angels. 
Just as weeds are collected and burned up with fire,
so will it be at the end of the age. 
The Son of Man will send his angels,
and they will collect out of his kingdom
all who cause others to sin and all evildoers. 
They will throw them into the fiery furnace,
where there will be wailing and grinding of teeth. 
Then the righteous will shine like the sun 
in the kingdom of their Father. 
Whoever has ears ought to hear."

Cosmic Reliquary

COSMIC RELIQARY

 

Dancers, dancing, in crystalline amber,

Fighting the flow of molecular stasis;

Eight thousand, ten thousand, years in making

Their ritual, primitive, delicate paces.

 

Swimmers, swimming, through old slow stone,

Beating their fins in the bubbling rock;

Ten million, twelve million, years in cresting,

Sedimentary waves in limestone blocks.

 

Old light, streaming, down from creation,

Great galaxies beaming through chasms of years;

Two billion, three billion, light years in coming

From stars that, perhaps, are no longer here.

Another one of my elderly poems, pressed into the front lines in what feels to be the waning years of the war. The conceit is, of course, the the universe around us is a museum of relics of work unguessed. Never could quite come up with a satisfactory final line.

Blood on the Axe: A Bit of Teen Angst

BLOOD ON THE AXE

 

Blood on the axe

And dark is the day

Bare trees are blowing

And crows fly away

How shall we know

How shall we hear

In the dim of the night

In the cold of the year?

 

Frost on the ground

A cold wind crying

Dark doors gaping

As the sunset's dying

How can we hope

How can we bear

In the gloom of the soul

In the dark of despair?

 

Stain on the sword

A curse on the land

Man at the crossroads

With scales in his hand

The powers of darkness

Are at his command

Who can resist

How can we stand

The look of his eyes

The touch of his hand?

I wrote this as a teen in high school (1980 or so) and the apocalyptic outlook seemed so much more serious than the general hedonistic surge everyone else seemed to be indulginging in. I was more attuned to it from the death-cult we were only recently emerged from. Very dramatic; very pessimistic. Anyway, it's preserved here as in amber in these portentous, pretentious verses.

"Why Do We Hate the Aliens, Dad? Is It Because They Killed Grossbah?"

They discuss the proposed magic school, Morgs, and magic. From Episode 1. The title of this post is from an ancient silly joke only two people could understand.

 

Hap, by Thomas Hardy

Hap

By Thomas Hardy

If but some vengeful god would call to me

From up the sky, and laugh: “Thou suffering thing,

Know that thy sorrow is my ecstasy,

That thy love's loss is my hate's profiting!” 

 

Then would I bear it, clench myself, and die,

Steeled by the sense of ire unmerited;

Half-eased in that a Powerfuller than I

Had willed and meted me the tears I shed.

 

But not so.   How arrives it joy lies slain,

And why unblooms the best hope ever sown?

—Crass Casualty obstructs the sun and rain,

And dicing Time for gladness casts a moan. . . .

These purblind Doomsters had as readily strown

Blisses about my pilgrimage as pain.

This was one of the first poems I read in college, and one line was booming throughout my mind this morning: "dicing Time for gladness casts a moan." As I struggled trying to accomplish my most basic and necessary tasks for the day, anything that could go wrong did go wrong, and I couldn't help wondering everytime if Nature was really neutral, couldn't it just as easily turned up as heads as tails? Then I think, how do you know this wasn't the better outcome? What if this was the Mercy?

“Sometimes,” he said, “life does seem to be unfair. Do you know the story of Elijah and the Rabbi Jachanan?”

“No,” said the Wart.

He sat down resignedly upon the most comfortable part of the floor, perceiving that he was in for something like the parable of the looking-glass.

“This rabbi,” said Merlin, “went on a journey with the prophet Elijah. They walked all day, and at nightfall they came to the humble cottage of a poor man, whose only treasure was a cow. The poor man ran out of his cottage, and his wife ran too, to welcome the strangers for the night and to offer them all the simple hospitality which they were able to give in straitened circumstances. Elijah and the Rabbi were entertained with plenty of the cow’s milk, sustained by home-made bread and butter, and they were put to sleep in the bed while their kindly hosts lay down before the kitchen fire. But in the morning the poor man’s cow was dead.”

“Go on.”

“They walked all the next day, and came that evening to the house of a very wealthy merchant, whose hospitality they craved. The merchant was cold and proud and rich, and all that he would do for the prophet and his companion was to lodge them in a cowshed and feed them on bread and butter. In the morning, however, Elijah thanked him very much for what he had done, and sent for a mason to repair one of his walls, which happened to be falling down, in return for his kindness.

“The Rabbi Jachanan, unable to keep silence any longer, begged the holy man to explain the meaning of his dealings with human beings.

“‘In regard to the poor man who received us so hospitably,’ replied the prophet, ‘it was decreed that his wife was to die that night, but in reward for his goodness God took the cow instead of the wife. I repaired the wall of the rich miser because a chest of gold was concealed near the place, and if the miser had repaired the wall himself he would have discovered the treasure. Say not therefore to the Lord: What doest Thou? But say in thy heart: Must not the Lord of all the earth do right?’” 

- The Sword in the Stone, T. H. White

As a sidenote, Mike and I called a little clique that formed in the class the Purblind Doomsters, who always seemed to object to anything for no reason at all.
 

The Vision of the Magical School

The object of the quest proposed: The Vision of the Magical School.

First Meetings: Varnik, Moq, and Jeffid

Scene from Episode One of The Wizard, the Prince, the Warrior, and His Son. Seriously, I need to come up with a shorter title.

Explaining Fiction to Relatives

EXPLAINING FICTION TO RELATIVES

 

We were not them.

They were not there.

That name was used on another face.

That didn't happen.

We never did that.

I didn't ever go in that place.

 

She was not nice.

He was not bad.

That man was seldom so good and kind.

Things were better,

The days more dull.

Look for that and you'll never find.

 

It wasn't like that.

That wasn't the spot.

That certainly never happened then.

He was not killed;

She isn't dead;

But now, forever, they're who and when.

 

--August 31, 2016

 

August 1, 2000

You Make Me Sad

On the advice that maybe 'cheese crisps' would be a viable snack substitute. I searched to see what HEB, my local store of choice, had on offer. As with most 'health' foods, prices were huge in comparison to weight of product offered. The best compromise I could find was this in-store brand with almost 3 dollars for less than 2 ounces of product. The next best was 6 dollars for 3 ounces of product. And so this morning I began the great experiment.

It was somewhat less than a taste sensation, though I would not go so far as to say it was absolutely vile. I mean they could be choked down after a lot of chewing and softening. They are tiny tough discs. I cannot imagine anyone choosing it for anything other than necessity. It does give your mouth something to do, so to some degree it satisfies an oral fixation, and the taste does nothing to lure you to another bite if not absolutely killing your appetite. 

So the 'cheese crisp' experiment has so far had disappointing results. But it's early days yet. Perhaps after I have made my way through the bag I will have developed some sort of tolerance. Perhaps a more expensive brand will prove more appealing. But I'd feel rotten about sending good money after bad in a vain endeavor. But hey, you have to try something. 

I know that this is not riveting content, but I got to talk through this stuff somewhere. Hopefully I can get back to more creative efforts soon.

Update:

I'm afraid I have to proclaim the experiment an abject failure. At about 12:30 PM I experienced a sudden and horrifying vomit, of which 'cheese crisps' appeared as readily identifiable and undigestible elements. Perhaps if I had tried them under more normal circumstances they would have been tolerable; as it is, I can not face them again. Which begs the question of what to do with them: I cannot imagine even starving wild animals would accept them. 

 

A Paucity of Pictorials

I had a lineup of at least six old illustrations to enhance with AI, but after trying yesterday and today, only got two before ChatGPT seemed to have got hung up on them. But here is the Wogglebug and a Harpy, so that's some progress.

That Might Explain It

I had been worried for the last few days; after my fall, my glucose was running unusually high. This despite my extra sparse diet. This wasn't because of an particular virtue, but rather that I had lost appetite for anything. Usually there is at least one food that will appeal; now the menu seemed an abomination of desolation. I hadn't even pooped since the fall. My thoughts were muggy; I was finding it hard to write or think. I thought my high numbers might be because I was retaining everything. Then I sat down to clean out my mini-fridge, and the light dawned.

The trauma of my fall had completely erased the thought that I needed to take my weekly dose of Ozempic. I spent so much time overseeing my recovery and my daily duties that I had overlooked an ordinary health regimine. I should point out that Ozempic has not been any kind of 'weight-loss magic wand' for me. But it does seem to help. Between you, me, and the Blogosphere, I think its reduced efficacy might be because my appetite is more of an emotional problem than a physical one.

The moment I took a dose, I could poop. We'll see what tomorrow's numbers are like. In the meantime I'd like to express my vague dislike of having an image of Hathor on the package. I know she's an Egyption goddess of health, and that the medicine is developed from cows. So in a way to people who have no strong religous convictions the symbol makes sense.