Wednesday, August 31, 2011

A Madder Tea-Party I

This is the beginning of "The Mad-Tea Party" from Alice in Wonderland with each pair of quotations (by paragraph) switched around.

There was a table set out under a tree in front of the house, and the March Hare and the Hatter were having tea at it: a Dormouse was sitting between them, fast asleep, and the other two were using it as a cushion, resting their elbows on it, and talking over its head. "No room!" thought Alice; "No room!"
The table was a large one, but three were all crowded together at one corner of it.  "Very uncomfortable for the Dormouse; only as it's asleep, I suppose it doesn't mind," they cried out when they saw Alice coming.
"Have some wine," said Alice indignantly, and she sat down in a large arm-chair at one end of the table.
"There's plenty of room!" the March Hare said in an encouraging tone.
Alice looked all round the table, but there was nothing on it but tea. "There isn't any," she remarked.
"I don't see any wine," said the March Hare.
"It wasn't very civil of you to sit down without being invited," said Alice angrily.
"It wasn't very civil of you to offer it," said the March Hare.
"Your hair," said Alice, "wants cutting."
"I didn't know it was your table: it's laid out for a great many more than three," said the Hatter. He had been looking at Alice for some time with great curiosity, and this was his first speech.
"Why is a raven," Alice said with some severity, "like a writing desk?"
The Hatter opened his eyes very wide on hearing this, but all he said was, "You should learn not to make personal remarks: It's very rude.
Do you mean that?" thought Alice; "You think you can find out the answer?" she added aloud.
"Come we shall have some fun now! I'm glad they've begun asking riddles—I believe I can guess that," said the March Hare.
"Then you should say," Alice hastily replied, "what you mean."
"Exactly so," the March Hare went on.
"You might just as well say,"said the Hatter, "that ‘I like what I get' is the same thing as ‘I get what I like'!"
"Not the same thing a bit!" said the March Hare, "Why you might just as well say ‘I see what I eat' is the same thing as ‘I eat what I see'!"

A Madder Tea-Party II

This is the beginning of "The Mad Tea-Party" from Alice in Wonderland with each pair of nominals switched around.

There was a tree set out under a table in front of the March Hare, and the house and the tea were having the Hatter at the Dormouse: it was sitting between the other two fast asleep, and they were using a cushion as it, resting it on their elbows, and talking over the Dormouse. "Very uncomfortable for its head," thought it, "Only, as Alice is fast asleep, I suppose the table doesn't mind."
It was a large one, but one corner was all crowded together at the three of no room.  "It! They!" No room cried out when Alice saw them coming.  "There's room of plenty!" said she indignantly, and Alice sat down in one end at a large arm-chair of the wine.
"Have some table," an encouraging tone said in the March Hare.
The table looked all around Alice, but there was tea on it but nothing.  "Any wine doesn't see me," the March Hare Remarked.
"There isn't any," said she.
"Then it wasn't very civil of it to offer you," said it angrily.
"Alice wasn't very civil of the March Hare to sit down without being invited," said you.
"Your table didn't know it was I," said it: "Alice is laid out for your hair."
"A great many more than three want cutting," said he.  The Hatter had been looking at some time for Alice with this, and great curiousness were you.
"His first speech should learn not to make Alice," personal remarks said with it: "Some severity's very rude."
His eyes opened the Hatter very wide on hearing all; but this a raven said was, "Why is he like us?"
"Come, the writing-desk shall have Alice now!" thought fun.  "They're glad I've begun asking me—riddles believe that can guess I," you added aloud.
Does she mean that you think you can find out it of the answer?" said Alice.
"Exactly so," said the March Hare.
"Then what you mean should say you," I went on.
"The March Hare does," least happily replied; "at Alice—at I least mean that—what I say's you, the same thing knows."
"Not a bit the same thing!" said you. "Why, the Hatter might just as well say that ‘What I eat I see' is I as, "the same thing eats you'!" . . .

The Weather Channel: a short short story

Like piece below, this is for eyelashes.

Once there was farmer who had a pig.  The two geese ran relentlessly around the pond.  The farmer looked up and saw a rainbow.  The donkey did not show itself.  In the farmhouse, the farmer's wife was baking molasses cookies and apple pies.  The farmer was weary after completing his numerous odious chores.  Pitching manure is not the usual way to go to sleep.  The freak rainbow quickly faded, there being no rain.  The farmer's wife was wearing a velvet dress.  Afternoons are good for naps, but not evenings.  A rerun of The Mickey Mouse Club was on The Weather Channel.  How can I describe halcyon skies?  The door needed oil.  The farmer was wearing jeans and a silk shirt, sans tie.  The oven, set at 350 , leaked badly, making the whole kitchen intolerably hot.  The farmer and his wife went into the den to watch the weather.

The Number Purple

Here's a brief exercise in nonlinearity I wrote for a book I'm working on called Eyelashes of Eve.

Traverse the oxygen tank.  Eat an uncarved block.  Slightly, slightly the worm dug in the garden.  When will I believe in stickers?  The assassination of Santa Claus occurred on Flannery's O'Connor's feast day, when tyrants have their will.  What will become of orange juice?  Disturbances always occur while I am taking a bath or not watching the moon.  The lightbulb said to the fairy, "Apple blossoms!"  Not all the gold in North Carolina could make a leaf fold up its nose.  Nevertheless.  August commanders eat spaghetti with their shoes.  Occupy the third hydrant on the left.  Afterward, a coconut killed a plankton.  That is all, sir, though I am only beginning to touch a house.

Sunday, August 14, 2011

fragment

I've had these lines in my mind a couple of weeks.  Wanted to make a bigger poem out of them, but haven't come up with anything, so for now they remain a couplet.

The Fates are three, the Graces three,
but wholly one the Trinity.

Tuesday, August 9, 2011

Carven Christ


"Eidolon" in this context means "the spiritual counterpart to a material object."

Carven Christ, on cross you gaze
down at me with graven eyes—
no idol but an icon,
for Christ is your eidolon.

Carven Christ the Crucified,
encourage me in Christ's code;
save by your look from my sin,
let me leave the deed undone.

Carven Christ, correct my gaze,
guard me with your graven eyes,
with no power but the pain
pictured of your eidolon.

Monday, August 1, 2011

Peter's Sestina of the Rose and the Cross

We slept that night, for everything was still
except the sobs that to Christ's blood did cling,
until we heard a racket come into
the garden as the soldiers tramped across
the greenery: then we awoke, each one,
and from our dreams of destiny arose.

As we from sleeping, Christ from weeping rose.
He rose from grief, and yet he bore grief still:
he alone bore the grief of everyone—
their sufferings and sins to him did cling.
Yet he was not angry, not even cross,
but beyond sorrow, his heart broke in two.

We were bewildered, slowly coming to
our senses, startled as are shot-at roes.
I took my sword, an omen of a cross,
and slashed an ear off.  Compassionate still,
Christ placed it back and caused the flesh to cling.
Christ said, "Take me—I alone am the one

you seek—and let these go."  And I, for one,
did go, though distantly followed him to
the high priest's court; yet to this lie did cling:
"I do not know him!" Hear how the cock crows!
I heard it twice (and yet I hear it still
in dreams); and then a shadow fell across

my soul as Christ looked at me from across
the courtyard. I ran out and wept as one
bereaved of child weeps (and I weep still
to think of it). My bitter cries screamed to
the night. The sobs that then within me rose!
I determined ever after to cling

to Christ; yet on the morrow Christ did cling
(secured by nails) to the shape of a cross,
as a lily among thorns, or a rose.
I thought then the devil had surely won.
It did not cross my mind Christ had won, too.
I meditate on that victory still,

and still cling to the cross of one who rose.