Crush®

Parody of Selena Gomez's song "[It was just a] Crush"


I guess I should have known it wasn't gonna end okay
Cola is caffeine-loaded but I like it just that way
A bomb that's ticking with neither one of us to taste
Just like a countdown ready to blow
I sat around and thought how I wanted to taste that brew
No matter what you think, everyone does not like this brew
You think I'd like something but Coke®, baby it's not true
Caffeinate me
The orange tastes like dust
I didn't get a rush
It was Orange Crush®
I cry when I drink such
I have tasted too much
I'll throw away the pop there's nothing that I'll use
The thing I never wanted to drink I owe it all to you
I just won't help myself
It's just what you drink 'Cause this is orange, not a Coke®
Caffeinate me
The orange tastes like dust
I didn't get a rush
It was Orange Crush®
I cry when I drink such
I have tasted too much
You'll be fine, just find another to give this pop
Won't be long until they're more than ready to stop

I Won't Swallow These Pies

Due to the interest shown in my other parodies of Selena Gomez, I'm posting this one even though it was written some time ago.  It parodies her song "I Won't Apologize [for who I am]"


You gave me some dessert
And I thought that I would eat
You were servin' deservin'
No one to eat your pies
It's all yam and crust
It's not the pie that we discussed
No its not the same thing
I guess it is pure yam and pure yuck
I can't eat what you want me to eat
I'm sorry for chewin'
I'm sorry I had to have a taste
Believe me it's better than your pumpkin jam
But I won't swallow these pies made out of yam
Remember at the go
You said it was made from potato
But it wasn't the 'tato
That you knew I did know, and
I tried to accept it
I didn't know it was so bad
But it was, and I won't
Swallow it 'cause it sure don't make me glad
I will even have to spit it
I'm sorry for chewin'
I'm sorry I had to have a taste
Believe me it's better than your pumpkin jam
But I won't swallow these pies made out of yam
I think the taste
Is total waste
'Cause I couldn't spit out the pie with enough haste
It was disgraced
I don't want it to be graced
Sorry
Throw it out I won't taste it again
I'm sorry for chewin'
I'm sorry I had to have a taste
Believe me it's better than your pumpkin jam
But I won't swallow these pies made out of yam
I'm sorry for chewin'
I'm sorry I had to have a taste
Believe me it's better than your pumpkin jam
Why should I swallow these pies?
No I won't swallow these pies made out of yam

Filtered through Fluff

This poem is in the Irish form rannaigheacht mhôr (the great versification), which is reputed to be the most difficult form in the world.  It requires cadence, generic rhyme, generic consonance, dissonance, alliteration & echo - all in set patterns.

Filtered through Fluff




Moonlight falls, filtered through fluff
like a waltz you wilting catch
through rain's wrath—just a touch,
just a tang, half of a half.

We walk by the river road,
talking tall till giver God
leaves to light the spinning globe.
We grieve that the night is robbed

by the Cross of Christ alone.
Laws of love stretch to have room
righteous and romantic rain.
Bright dances and moans the moon.

Big Tuition

This one is a parody of Selena Gomez's "Intuition"


Feel like I'm going to school, whoa, whoa
Yesterday I was just a fool, whoa, whoa
Well I'm flat broke, yeah I've been there before
But I keep my head up 'cause I can always borrow more
I made the choice to be the best that I could ever be
That's why I'm going to the big university
Gonna borrow my big tuition
To the college that I 'list in
Everything's gonna be all paid
It's gonna be Sallie Mae
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh . . .
Oh, oh, oh, it's gonna be Sallie Mae
Borrow my big tuition
It's gonna be Sallie Mae
I gotta get into college, whoa, whoa
I always need more knowledge, whoa, whoa
What's the payment compared to the debt of the world
Quit trying to hit every man woman boy and girl
Better borrow all it
Within a single debt
Tomorrow's never promised so I might not even have to pay
All I know is to school I'm gonna go
And looking back I'll see all that I then know
Right it gets so confusing
Feel like I will know what I'm doing
But I trust my loan, and in the end
It'll turn out better than when it began
You see what's meant to be is going to happen
You know it's gonna be Sallie Mae

Off the Chain

This is a parody of Selena Gomez's song "[Your Love Is] Off the Chain"

Racing
He's shaken up my pacing
Because your dog is chasing
It's your dog I know
Running
Because I saw him coming
Barking he's so cunning
O why did you let him go?
A thousand hounddogs barking I can
Hear the catcher parking as he
Calls his name
Your Rover's off the chain
The bitches go so crazy and you
Find his speed amazing and I
Can explain
Your Rover's off the chain
Coming
Your setter keeps on coming
He bites my ankle, crushing
Skin and bone and so much more
Just when
When I least expect it
He makes me feel bone-naked
Like nothing I felt before
I'm not the type who gets crazy for setters
Odds of my trippin' have just got better
Limping in the leg your dog did get—grrr
For Rover
Your rover
Changes everything
Everything is changed
Everything is changed
Everything is changed
Your Rover's off the chain

Cross-tree of Christ: Englynion

The englyn is the most intricate form I have ever attempted.  There is far more going on than meets the eye, yet giving the forms it unique flavor.  The 8 strict englynion are the first of the 24 Welsh "strict meters".



Cross-tree of Christ: Englynion


1) englyn penfyr

Cross-tree of Christ, of wooden structure,
pure day poured on you, as did
all midnight—and it madly flowed.

2) englyn milwr

Cross-tree of Christ, say which can
man or woman more love: sin
in bloom? your fruit, free, ripe, brown?

3) englyn unodl union

Cross-tree of Christ, in you will life rejoice
  voice till stars at last all
fall; so Satan fell to hell;
—well, you will make life whole

4) englyn unodl crwca

Cross-tree of Christ, your love-lace,
grace-craft, sacrifice-art, peace-
piece, surpasses so the price and worth of
  love's grand things men engross.

5) englyn cyrch

Cross-tree of Christ, can I sing,
ring bowls, bells, practice drumming,
ding triangles, try gongs—look-
ing on your yearning for wrong?

6) englyn proest dalgron

Cross-tree of Christ, of pure pain,
plain to no pulse, serpentine
sign on you, sin on your bone,
own me—I'm a man, a moon.

7) englyn lleddfbroest

Cross-tree of Christ, blood its fuel,
cruel, ludicrous, if I'll
smile on its stone hate, who'll
fool, born from burn and boil?

8) englyn proest gadwynof

Cross-tree of Christ where I rave,
grave of granite where I grieve—
thieving holding hell, you shave
grave, and cross-tree, Christ, you leave.

I Don't Know Who To Pity Most

While working on putting together my collected poems, I found in my first chapbook (The Bewildered Gymnast) this poem that in many ways pleased me, and in many ways did not.  Then I figured out I could make it into a much better poem by stripping almost half of it away.  So here's the new version:

Hosea 1:2-9
Isaiah 20:2-4
Ezekiel 4:1-3.10-13

Those who loved Hosea most
begged him not to get married
to a prostitute, but he,
convinced by divine command,
ignored them.  His loved ones hurt
to see him court disaster.

Those who loved Isaiah most
were distressed beyond degree
That he thought God had told him
to run three years in the nude.
They tried to reason with him
as their hearts cried out in love.

Those who loved Ezekiel most
were crushed to find him cooking
his food on dung and playing
out fancies of destruction.
Love weeps, but how to reason
with demented religion?

5-best-book lists

I Made a bunch of 5-best lists of books.  Find almost any category you like and you'll get my highest recommendations.

GENRES (book-length fiction by single authors)

Mainstream:  1) The Complete Stories, Flannery O'Connor,  2) The Old Man and the Sea, Ernest Hemingway,  3) The Power and the Glory, Graham Greene,  4) Lord of the Flies, William Golding,  5) Pride and Prejudice, Jane Austen.

Science Fiction:  1) The Complete Fictions, Jorge Luis Borges,  2) A Canticle for Liebowitz, Walter M. Miller,  3) The Space Trilogy, C. S. Lewis,  4) Voyage to Arcturus, David Lindsay,  5) The Compass Rose, Ursula K. LeGuin.

Fantasy:  1) The Silmarillion, J, R. R. Tolkien,  2) The Earthsea Trilogy, Ursula K. Leguin,  3) Lilith, George MacDonald,  4) Gormenghast Trilogy, Mervyn Peake,  5) Duncton Wood, William Horwood.

Gothic:  1) All Hallow's Eve, Charles Williams,  2) We Have Always Lived in the Castle, Shirley Jackson,  3) The Portent [aka The Lady in the Mansion], George MacDonald,  4) Tales of Suspense, Edgar Allan Poe,  5) Dr. Jeckyll and Mr. Hyde, Robert Louis Stevenson.

Mystery:  1) The Name of the Rose, Umberto Eco,  2) The Complete Father Brown,  3) The Complete Sherlock Holmes, A. Conan Doyle,  4) Tales of Mystery, Edgar Allan Poe,  5) The Complete Peter Wimsy Stories, Dorothy Sayers.

Westerns:  1) Heart of the West, O. Henry,  2) The Virginian, Owen Wister,  3) Aces and Eights, Jolly R. Blackburn,  4) The Friendly Persuasion, Jessamyn West,  5) Little House Series, Laura Ingalls Wilder.

QUALITIES (book-length fiction by single authors)

Holiest:  1) At the Back of the North Wind, George MacDonald,  2) Till We Have Faces, C. S. Lewis,  3) The Power and the Glory, Graham Greene,  4) The Greater Trumps, Charles Williams,  5) Sylvie and Bruno, Lewis Carroll.

Most Beautiful:  1) Taliesin, Stephen R. Lawhead,  2) The Silmarillion, J. R. R. Tolkien,  3) The Earthsea Trilogy, Ursula K. LeGuin,  4) A Canticle for Liebowitz, Walter M. Miller,  5) Duncton Wod, Willian Horwood.

Most Mind-blowing:  1) Alice in Wonderland, Lewis Carroll,  2) Last and First Men, Olaf Stapleton,  3)  The Pendulum, Umberto Eco,  4) Erewhon, Samuel Butler,  5) Flatland, Edwin A. Abbott.

Most Mind-stretching:  1) The Complete Fictions, Jorge Luis Borges,  2) Alice in Wonderland,  3) The Pendulum, Umberto Eco,  4) The Complete Father Brown, G. K. Chesterton,  5) The Complete Sherlock Holmes.

Most Entertaining:  1)  The Rectory Umbrella, Lewis Carroll,  2) Pudd'nhead Wilson, Mark Twain,  3)  Mrs. Pickerel on the Moon, ?,  4) The Purloined Paperweight,  5) Trout Fishing in America, Richard Brautigan.

Most Moving:  1)  The Old Man and the Sea, Ernest Hemingway,  2) The Mill on the Floss,  3) A Canticle for Liebowitz, Walter M. Miller,  4) Little Dorritt, Charles Dickens,  5) Pride and Prejudice, Jane Austen.

Best Prose Style:  1) The Complete Stories, Flannery O'Connor,  2) The Earthsea Trilogy, Ursula K. LeGuin,  3) The Complete Short Stoeies, Ernest Hemingway,  4) A Canticle for Liebowitz, Walter M. Miller,  5) Duncton Wood, William Horwood.

Strangest:  1) Trout Fishing in America, Richard Brautigan,  2) Alice in Wonderland, Lewis Carroll,  3) Amerika, Franz Kafka,  4) Tristram Shandy, Laurence Sterne,  5) Gormenghast, Mervyn Peake.

ARTHURIAN LITERATURE

Arthurian Romances (Medieval): Peredur, anonymous,  2) Parzival, Wolfram Von Eschenbach,  3) Perceval, Chrétien de Troyes,  4) Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, 5) Le Morte d'Arthur, Malory.

Arthurian Fiction:  1) Taliesin, Stephen Lawhead,  2) The Crystal Cave, Mary Stewart,  3) The Dragon and the Unicorn, A. A. Attanaso,  4) The Mabinogion, anonymous, tr. Lady Charlotte E. Guest,  5) A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court.

Arthurian Poetry:  1) Taliesin Through Logres, Charles Williams,  2) The Book of the Holy Grail, A. E. Waite,  3) Sir Gawaine and the Green Knight, anonymous, tr. J. R. R. Tolkien,  4) The Idylls of the King, Alfred, Lord Tennyson,  5) Quest of the Sangraal, Robert Stephen Hawker.

Arthurian Non-Fiction:  1) The Discovery of King Arthur, Geoffrey Ashe,   2) The Celtic Sources for the Arthurian Legend,John Cos and Simon Young, 3) The Arthurian Encyclopedia, Norris J. Lacy,  4) Arthurian Legend in the Middle Ages, Robert Sherman Loomis,   5) Arthurian Companion, Phyllis Ann Karr.

ODDMENTS

Best Science Fiction Antholgies:  1) Fantasia Mathematica, Clifton Fadiman,  2) The Science Fiction Hall of Fame, Vol. 1, Robert Silverberg,  3) The World Treasury of Science Fiction, David G. Hartwell,  4) Sacred Visions, Andrew Greeley and Michael Cassutt,  5)  Timeless Stories of Today and Tomorrow, Ray Bradbury.

Best Fantasy Anthologies:  1) Masterpieces of Fantasy and Wonder, David G. Hartwell,  2) Modern Classics of Fantasy, Gardner Dozois,  3) The Circus of Dr. Lao and Other Improbable Stories,  4) Fairy Tales, The Brothers Grimm,  5) The Mabinogion, anonymous.

Poets:  1) The Collected Poems of A. E. Housman,  2) The Complete Poems of Gerard Manley Hopkins,  3) Collected Poems of James Joyce,  4) The Complete Poems of Robert Southwell,  5) Collected Poems, Dylan Thomas.

More Poets:  6) If I Had Wheels or Love: Collected Poems of Vassar Miller,  7) The Complete Poems of Marianne Moore,  8) The Works of George Herbert,  9) The Complete Poems of Walter de la Mare,  10) The Poetical Works of Thomas Traherne 1636-1674.

Kookiest Books:  1) The Sacred Mushroom and the Cross, Michael Baigent,  2) When Worlds Collide, Immanuel Velikovsky,  3) First Man, Then Adam, Irwin Ginsburgh,  4) The New Guide of the Conversation in Portuguese and English [aka English as She is Spoke], Pedro Carolino,  5) Chariots of the Gods, Erich Von Daniken.

Mythozoology:  1) The Book of Fabulous Beasts, Joseph Nigg,  2) Giants, Monsters and Dragons, Carol Rose,  3) Dragonology, Dr. Ernest Drake,  4) The Book of Imaginary Beings, Jorge Luis Borges,  5) The Lore of Unicorns, Odell Shepherd

Hymnals:  1) The Hymnal 1940 [Episcopal],  2) The Hymnal 1982 [Episcopal],  3) Hymns of the Living Faith [Free Methodist, 1951],  4) The Hymnal for Worship and Celebration [Non-denominational, 1986],  5) The Lutheran Hymnal [1941]

Bible Translations:  1) Young's Literal Translation,  2) Green's Literal Translation,  3) The New English Translation of the Septuagint [OT only],  4) The Septuagint with the Apocrapha, tr. Sir E. L. Breton [OT only],  5) The New Revised Standard Version.

Correspondence on "The Raven"

Recently when going through a file of old unfinished writings, I came across this satire.  My intention was that by the end both sides would look absolutely ridiculous.  Think it's worth finishing?

Correspondence on "The Raven"

by Claire Darrings, Ph.D., LL.D.
and Wilhelma Jennow, LL.D., D.D.


     The following letters from Dr. Darrings and replies by Dr. Jennow appeared in The Epoch Literary Review over several issues. It is reprinted here for the first time. The article which provoked the debate, being of only marginal interest, has been omitted.


Volume XI, issue 2

     Concerning Dr. Jenning's recently article, "The Symbol of The Raven", it is the editors' prerogative to publish religious drivel of this fashion, though not what I would look for in a supposedly scientific literary review. I do not deny their may be some truth in the concept of authorship, though such truth lies outside the realm of literary scholarship. What I cannot accept is Dr. Jennow' personal views, contradicted by abundant literary evidence, being disguised as genuine literary scholarship. I am referring, of course, to her statement that "Poe's" raven was once a parrot. My first reaction was to  laugh and dismiss it, but further reflection convinced me that this was precisely the sort of thing which undergraduates latch unto and repeat innocently, creating a barrier to their intellectual advancement and retarding them socially in the academic community.
     I have before me the text of "The Raven". The bird in question is referred to as "raven" no less than eight times, and never as "parrot" or any other species of bird. While it is frequently called "bird", there is no reason to suspect this generic term as implying anything other than raven.  The use of the generic does not imply a change in the specific. One might just as well argue that the raven was once a rock formation because it is referred to as "it". Dr.. Jennow does discredit to others who share her authorial beliefs, many of whom have no difficulty in reconciling their religious and literary viewpoints.
Sincerely,
Claire Darrings, Ph.D., LL.D.
University of Gotham

Dr Jennow' reply:
     I would like to point Dr. Darrings's attention to a passage in "The Philosophy of Composition" in which Poe writes, "Here, then, immediately arose the idea of a non-reasoning creature capable of speech; and, very naturally, a parrot, in the first instance, suggested itself, but was superseded forthwith by a Raven, as equally capable of speech, and infinitely more in keeping with the intended tone." While Dr. Darrings may reject the religious authority of "The Philosophy of Composition", she she will no doubt admit it as an historical document.


Volume XI, issue 3

     It is notable that, put to the point, Dr. Jennow refers not to "The Raven", but to a religious work which I will "no doubt admit as an historical document." Both religious scriptures and historical documents lie outside my field of specialty, but I understand that the "Philosophy" in question is not only not included in the more popular editions of Poe, but has not been considered trustworthy evidence for some time. Even those who grant Poe's authorship of both the "The Philosophy" and "The Raven", have suspicions that in "The Philosophy", Poe is suffering from some sort of mental ailment. The scripture contains a number of absurdities. For instance, the claim that "nothing even remotely approaching this combination [of lines into stanzas] has ever been attempted."
     More important, perhaps, is the difficulty in reconciling "The Philosophy" with the poem itself. For example, "Here then the poem may be said to have its beginning—at the end." This refers neither to the first nor last, but to the third to last stanza. After this stanza, in which Lover and Bird converse, "Poe" places the lover in his chamber, he introduces the bird (into the chamber apparently, the bird and the lover having already met). This, then, is the beginning of "The Raven" according to "The Philosophy". Most authorists today interpret this figuratively, and it is indeed difficult to see how else it can be interpreted, since any examination of the text proves it to be quite false literally. I would suggest that authorists seeking academic credibility treat the parrot passage similarly.
     What concerns me about Dr. Jennow is not her personal beliefs about the author, but her insistence on confusing these with literary criticism. Granted, a poem may have an author. While linguists and symanticists are often inclined to doubt this, we have no concrete evidence to the contrary. The self-sufficiency of each poem and the findings of generative grammar may tend to make any author superfluous, but cannot prove him nonexistent. Aestheticists and prosodists, on the other hand, have frequently felt some sort of author implied by their findings. Though the "higher critics" scarcely remain even as a fringe religious sect, their attempts to demonstrate multiple authors for a single work were once considered a legitimate part of literary criticisms, and even today, because of their influence, some poems (known as "collaborations") are traditionally referred to as having more than one author. This is all very interesting, and the evolving relationship between literary scholarship and religion is a worthwhile subject for an historian; but it has long been accepted in the academic community that a work must be examined by its observable attributes, irrespective of traditional authorship or the critic's authorial theories. If an authorist's views are true, they have nothing to fear by this, and the knowledge of literary scholarship may even make him a better authorist. It is only the fundamentalist authorial sects which have any reason to oppose genuine scholarship. I do not know what affiliations may influence Dr. Jennow
Sincerely,
Claire Darrings, Ph.D.,LL.D.

Dr. Jennow' reply:
     I would like to thank Dr. Darrings for her thoughtful comments. Unfortunately, she has misunderstood the intention of my reply to her last letter. She is quite correct in asserting that my religious convictions should not influence my literary scholarship: they have not done so. I did not mention "The Philosophy of Composition" because of its religious value, nor even because it is necessarily correct in many points. Suppose, for the sake of argument, that it is spurious—written, let's say,

Considering string theory.

The rounding of the circle is no easier than the rounding of the square.

I said, I was villanelled out, but this one seemed necessary to complete my book.  I now have the proofs half done.

Hellfire

"Whatever else we know about the bad place,
we know it was made by God,
and therefore was made out of love."
     -George MacDonald


"God in His mercy made
The fixed pains of Hell."
     -C. S. Lewis


Love is too weird to understand,
and much too strange to ever tell.
Hellfire is by mercy fanned.

God governs with a mighty hand
and outstretched arm all those who fell.
Love is too weird to understand.

God makes the plans of the unplanned,
the chaos of bottomless well.
Hellfire is by mercy fanned.

Of those who land where is no land,
what do we know?  Grace is pellmell.
Love is too weird.  To understand

is only to misunderstand.
Pity those locked in pity's cell.
Hellfire is.  By mercy fanned,

the flames leap high.  The sight is grand:
is God then good?  How can we tell
love is?  Too weird to understand?
Hellfire is by mercy fanned.

This is not in my own voice - I have many friends.  I wanted to do a villanelle suitable for a non-linear book I'm putting together, hence this.  I'm also putting a book together of my villanelles.  With this one I am officially villanelled out.


Secretary Bird Eggs


Darkness falls.  I have no friend.
Bite me like I'm buttered toast.
Come to Mommy in the end.

See the shades of day descend.
I am a guess about a ghost.
Darkness falls.  I have no friend.

In the blender all things blend.
I leave my faint.  I, unlike most,
come to.  Mommy, in the end,

intends the things I too intend.
Lightnessfalls I have (a host);
darknessfalls I have.  No friend

forsakes me, for I've none.  I tend
too many rabid sheep.  I boast.
Come to Mommy.  In the end

all must burn the cloth they mend.
Fly the flag of Barbary Coast.
Come to Mom, me, inn, the friend,
darkness, falls.  I have no end.

On a Theme from William Dunbar


The field is won, overcome is the foe,
despoiled of the treasures that he kept.
Surrexit Dominus de sepulchro.

Unseen, unheard, with no one there to know,
out of the grave Lord Jesus Christ has crept.
The field is won, overcome is the foe.

Nonchalant, with säng froid, a ripple's flow,
out of the grave Lord Jesus Christ has stepped.
Surrexit Dominus de sepulchro.

Victorious, triumphant, with a glow,
out of the grave Lord Jesus Christ has leapt.
The field is won, overcome is the foe.

Forevermore now since that long ago,
out of the grave Lord Jesus Christ has kept.
Surrexit Dominus de sepulchro.

Forevermore Lord Jesus Christ lives, though
deep in the grave Lord Jesus Christ has slept.
The field is won, overcome is the foe.
Surrexit Dominus de sepulchro.

Here's another I just finished.

On a Theme from William Blake


And Newton's particles of light
Are sands upon the Red Sea shore
Where Israel's tents do shine so bright.

Apostles on Mount Olivet
know not what the night has in store;
and Newton's particles of light

show but the tint, not the spirit
of Jesus' saltwater and gore
where Israel's tents do shine so bright.

How could they guess that Rabbi's fate
(though he had told them all before,
and Newton's particles of light

make of each drop of blood a mote
of crimson)?  They wake and cease their snore
where Israel's tents do shine so bright,

visible but to inner sight.
They are blinded both to that gloire
and Newton's particles of light
where Israel's tents do shine so bright.

I have recently done a whole series of Good Friday villanelles on themes from various poets.
Here's another one.

On a Theme from Richard Rolle
a villanelle



My truest treasure so traitorly taken,
  so bitterly bounden with biting band,
how soon of thy servants was thou forsaken.

They winked as thou wept, and would not awaken.
  They stared when they stood, did not understand
my truest treasure so traitorly taken.

With slobber and slime their sleep was well-slaken.
    With fever of fear their fire was fanned.
How soon of thy servants was thou forsaken!

In dreams did they dread the devil, that drakon,
    and hated for hell to hold by the hand
my truest treasure so traitorly taken.

They shifted their shadows, they shook, they were shaken
    by sight of the sword and spear that there spanned:
how soon of thy servants was thou forsaken!

How quick did they quit the quest when was quaken
    the ground where they grieved the graces so grand!
My truest treasure so traitorly taken,
how soon of thy servants was thou forsaken!

I had the most interesting experience yesterday.  I was on Amazon and checking out a record of art songs.  At first I couldn't hear it, then I realized my sound was off.  I turned it on and heard wonderful Celtic music, which surprised me, sung by a lady.  Then a classical baritone came in quietly in the background, but after a few seconds grew loud as the Celtic grew quiet.  Then the Celtic grew loud again and they both sang loud, but in perfect counterpoint.  It may well be the most beautiful sound I ever heard.  I got excited, and determined to buy the album.  Then I realized I had Celtic music playing on Windows Media Player - two songs played at once, the beauty a coincidence.

This one is also out of season

On a Theme from T. S. Eliot
a villanelle

The bloody flesh our only food,
the dripping blood our only drink,
and yet we call this Friday good.

We fast, but inwardly are fed;
We feast on flesh (Come, have a chunk),
the bloody flesh our only food.

Nails wait to nail a hanging God,
while plank is nailed crosswise to plank,
and yet we call this Friday good.

From the perpendicular bed
of nails we carve fresh flesh—we think
the bloody flesh our only food,

and we think right.  Our God is dead.
His flesh is old and cold and rank,
and yet we call this Friday good.

Perhaps at last we've understood
the dripping blood (our only drink),
the bloody flesh (our only food)—
and yet we call this Friday good.

I know this is out of season, but I often write out of season.

A Secret Which Surprises Us No More
a villanelle　




God a newborn behind a stable door
came unexpected to a doubting age,
a secret which surprises us no more.


An angel first announced it to the poor,
a star first portended it to the mage,
God a newborn behind a stable door.


Though few indeed were told that heavenly lore,
his birthday now is all the yearly rage,
a secret which surprises us no more.


Ignorant then, we now choose to ignore
or not ignore, engage or not engage
God a newborn behind a stable door.


It is a much too often used trapdoor
causing a disappearance from the stage,
a secret which surprises us no more.


It is the seed inside the apple core,
it is a re-read mystery’s last page,
God a neborn behind a stable door,
a secret which surprises us no more.

Increase
　
      Increase my skill
    to understand your pain.
      Do what you will,
    even to bloody rain
that waters hill and rill and vale and plain.

      Increase my craft,
    to understand your death,
      the cup you quaffed,
    the giving up of breath;
blood, water, after-shaft, completed faith.

      Increase my art
    to understand your love.
      Give me your heart,
    and leave me dying of
a broken heart, thus start to live and move.

This one is largely fiction.

Allí Leigh

Allí Leigh, you pierce my heart
with your poor attempt at art
on your nails and on your face,
which belies a deeper grace,
giving me a deeper smart:
Allí Leigh, you pierce my heart.

Allí Leigh, you stir my soul,
which could scarcely be your goal,
knowing so little of me;
I know less of you, but see
how your half-smile is whole:
Allí Leigh, you stir my soul.

Allí Leigh, you torch my mind,
and at Eucharist I find
myself seeing you, not Christ
who for true love sacrificed
himself: were my eyes but blind!
Allí Leigh, you torch my mind.

Allí Leigh, you pierce my heart
with the way your dark eyes dart,
the way that you toss your hair
and sigh softly (what an air!);
thus we finish where we start:
Allí Leigh, you pierce my heart.