By Linda Gregerson
The hobbled, the halt, the hasten-to-blame-it-on-
crowd, the undermined and over-
their-heads, the hapless,
the hassle-me-nots. The night
before the night my uncle Jens
standing in the hayloft, he -
my uncle Jens, that is - considered
cashing the whole
thing in. Bettina gone
the way she had, the boys all gone
to hell . . .
The mild flat light of evening lay
like a balm on the fields. But for his heart
in sight. So Jens
gave all his money to the local charis-
and in exchange his fellow faithful told him
to forgive himself. God's god-
all over the suburbs and the country-
side are dying in the service
of a market
the redhead I used to go to college with,
the trombone and studied Kant and now
performs the laying on of hands somewhere
Tennessee. Beneath her touch
quenched sight returns, the myelin sheath
and lets the wheelchair rust, the cancerous
cat comes purring back to health.
whose otherworldliness imperfectly
cohered, took to driving his pickup
off the road,
in desultory fashion for the most part,
so that cousin Ollie's cornfield took
of harm. The hens
ran loose. And Jens, who in his mother's arms
for joy and in tow-headed youth had leapt
to favor in each tender heart, went weary
Having learned from a well-meaning neighbor
will not have her if Jesus
does first, my three-year-old daughter
the visible world for a sign.
The other she's found in abundance -
death on her
dinnerplate, death in the grass -
and drawing just conclusions is beside herself
the Archbishop said smoothly, "are still residual
We still need a clergy for funerals."
The televangelist's plexiglass pulpit,
the crystal veil
of his tears, assure us the soul is
transparent too. No stone can break
nor scandal mar
the radiant flow of video con-
version. Close now, closer
enhancement, the frictionless
story that washes us clean.
encumbered of contingency,
of history, of doubt. God's
they swore, the old ones,
the believers, as now we swear by sex or shit.
which failures of attention made.
I had kind of a lazy day. Was supposed to have lunch with gblvr, but we both agreed a bit before noon that we were too disorganized and postponed. Ran out to CVS and the Hallmark store to get birthday cards and other necessities (being Jewish, I certainly did not buy the Cauldron Trouble Ornament, I mean, I would never have a tree and I stopped collecting the Star Trek ornaments and oh look isn't that cute hanging over my computer?). Wrote an article on Kate Mulgrew's rave reviews in Iphigenia 2.0 which I would love to see and might even try to get up to New York to see if it was anyone other than, you know, Kate Mulgrew. Oh, and I forgot to mention that I got to write up a fun interview with Jonathan Frakes, who is always so lovely and unpretentious in interviews, and who is now living in Maine and teaching college film and is just very high on my "celebrities with their priorities straight" list.
My really fun article today was reviewing the Star Trek: New Voyages episode "World Enough and Time" -- I can't link to the episode because the web site is currently having big problems, but they had sent me a review copy on DVD and the first amazing thing about it is that on DVD, this episode looks more professional than 3/4 of professional Star Trek. Whoever has been doing the crappy special effects for the Trek video games should hire this team. On top of that, it's a well-told story, absolute classic original Trek (derivative of several episodes but who cares, so were a lot of TNG and Voyager), with a lovely performance by George Takei and surprisingly good camera work including an overhead shot of the bridge. My kids, who quite often got bored particularly with the original series' third season, watched the entire thing quite enthusiastically. I'm really impressed.
...and the replica of it as one drives into the town (taken through the windshield, sorry about the blur).
Here is the long view of the horizon with the lighthouse along with a World War II defense tower, taken from the top of another tower.
And here is the Kalmar Nyckel berthed at the Cape May-Lewes Ferry Terminal Dock.
Summer vacation is over! I'm entitled to beach nostalgia. *g*