The antenna-edged ants attack first. They attach a butterfly to a memory deep in our hearts. They turn to a transparent lie, as they try to match their skin with ours. That these ants get their smarts From bells and ringing shells, chords that detach to ply a misericordia of all the parts tooContinue reading “The Garden Butterfly”
All the magnolia trees have lost their elfin charm. The garden is as rough and silent as their bare branching arms. They look like ragamuffin soldiers fighting upside down, their hair scouring the earth. Winter can be a muguffin in a garden (see Alfred Hitchcock). It can scare the bejesus out of all the gardenContinue reading “The Garden in Winter”
Explain this to me. Hamlet has been here for two months now, shuffling around in the gloomy recesses of Elsinore—dreaming of a giant wave in a sea of troubles—and now, all he wants to do is get the swords out and duel in the surf. It seems he’s been taking lessons— The better to smiteContinue reading “Silent Tsunami”
This is the longest piece I ever wrote. I published it on extrasimile in four parts. it also appeared (and still appears, though it difficult to find) on00 arduity.com. You will be forgiven if you don’t read it, but it is something of f an Ars Poetica for me. Donald HallContinue reading “Wallace Stevens: Adorning the Rock”
Horatio is braggadocio Personified. It’s hard to believe. One minute, he’s cool as a mule, The next it’s like he has invented silence— But it’s a good silence, a probing silence A void devoid of what Claudius needs— A good cheerleader. When All the King’s Men, Get together again to play the play, The MurderContinue reading “A Dumb Show”
Just as sleep can become a rock, only A jolly rogue can become a dream language large enough for what a nightmare stands for. For what are dreams if not the ground We stand and fight for, eh Horatio?\ And what a stone is, is what a rock can be When divided too many times—pebbles,Continue reading “This Jolly Rogue (A Dream Language)”
I Horatio believed the laws of heaven Should be obsequious to the laws of earth. God coughed. Only the lonely holy boy Believed that god was stretched beyond Himself. God loomed. God boomed. The land began to pitch… The ghost was unhouseled, disappointed, And unannealed when he died. He was Condemned to walk the earthContinue reading “A Most Excellent Fancy”
An empty space left to occupy a meadow: Hey, bouquet, let’s play.
The summer sun, like a leaf blowing, like a lip swelling, turning red– in and out of life the sky darkens into rain— No birds until now.