Sunday, March 6, 2011

Broadway Revival of an Old Favorite


Scripting had been simple:
total improv, each night
a different story, whatever
inspired the sole cast member:
a voice blaring on a loudspeaker.

The director’s job was easy:
put your name on the program
and coach the voice to speak,
preferably loudly; no music,
no choreography, no budget.

The hard work belonged
to the set designer, who later
said in a celebrated interview
that it took more than work,
more than sweat; blood.

Like the voice on the loudspeaker
the audience changed each night
but generally had the same
predictable reaction: great
expectations, disappointed.

Democracy in America: A Contemporary Reprise
Based on a work by Alexis deToqueville

This poem is submitted for One Shot Sunday, sponsored by One Stop Poetry. To see other poems prompted by the photograph and an interview with the photographer, Jacob F. Lucas, please visit the site.

Photograph: The Show Must Go On by Jacob F. Lucas. Used with permission for One Stop Poetry.

Saturday, March 5, 2011

What a wonderful snack this will be


Don’t know much about vitamins,
don’t know much about phosphorus,
don’t know much about calcium,
don’t know much about nutrition.
But I do know enriched corn meal,
and I love my maltodextrin, too:
what a wonderful snack this will be.

Don’t know much about losing weight,
but I love my carbohydrate,
and my fats and my sugars, too,
artificial flavor don’t make me blue,
but I do know my sodium,
and love those calories in the tum,
what a wonderful snack this will be.

Okay, so Marty Duane Scott is a Cheetos fanatic (they have cheeseheads in Wisconsin and orange tongues in Iowa). He dreamed up this idea of a Cheetos poetry contest, aided and abetted by likeminded villains (at least, that's what I've heard).

How could I resist that? And I don’t even like Cheetos.

So if you want to see who else has indulged in waxing poetic about this famous snack food, go visit the site and see what’s snackin’.

Photograph: Bag of Cheetos Crunchy, taken by the poet of this blog who paid 75 cents to a vending machine at work so he would have a prop for the photo. The bag is still sitting – unopened – in my office.

Saturday Good Reads


I’m seeing a number of blog posts and online articles combining forms – prose and poetry, poetry and photos, prose and videos – which makes it hard to fit some of them into my nice neat categories but which do serve to surprise and enlighten. Several of the links below are like that, and they’re rather wonderful.

Prose

“Life is a Patchwork Quilt” by Jenifer Dukes-Lee at Getting Down with Jesus.

“Banishing a Constant Source of Annoyance” by Greg Sullivan at Sippican Cottage.

“Spinning the Truth” and “Why Write? Does It Matter?” by David Rupert at Red-Letter Believers.

“The Baptizer” by Bob Spencer at Wilderness Fandango (this one could have gone in poetry, too.)

“Broken in Brooklyn: Duke Snider Dies in California” by Fred Sanders at The Scriptorium.

“Small Cuts and Deep Wounds” by Billy Coffey at What I Learned Today.

“Shall We Dance?” by Athol Dickson at What Athol Wrote.

“So Let Him Walk” by A Simple Country Girl at Aspire to Lead a Quiet Life.

“Enter Spring” by Kelly Sauer at A Restless Heart.

“Snowdrops bloom now” by Cassandra Frear at Moonboat CafĂ©.

"The Leader as Parent" by Scott Couchenour at Serving Strong.

“Birthdays” by Deidra Riggs at Jumping Tandem.

“Get Real” by Jeanne Damoff at The View From Here.

“Yarr” by Michael D. Perkins at Untitled.

“Looking for a Fight” by Douglas R. Young.

“Best Friends” by Erin Kilmer at Together for Good.

“That Moment” by Dour Spurling at Spurling Silver.

“Mother Nature, I’m Disturbed" by Louise Gallagher at Recover Your Joy.

“The Reader” by A.G. Harmon at The Image Journal.

"What to Do When You Are Completely Overwhelmed at Work" by Bradley Moore at Shrinking the Camel.

Poetry

“Clive” and "Sitzfleisch" by Jerry Barrett at Under the Door Frame.

“Knowledge” by Nancy Rosback at A little somethin’.

“The Shadow” by K. Duane Carter at Songs from the River.

“Bill of Goods” by Maureen Doallas at Writing Without Paper.

“Snowflakes” by Kathleen Overby at Almost Paradisical.

“Longing” by Brendan MacOdrum at Oran’s Well.

“The Difference Between” by L.L. Barkat at seedlings in Stone.

“The Swoon” by Arron Palmer.

“Between Where” by B.K. McKenzie at Signed…BKM.

“Sing and fly” by Sandra Heska King.

“Armistice” by Steven Marty Grant at Urbanality.

Paintings and Photographs

“Following the Leader” by Susan Etole at Just…A Moment.

“Portrait of Edouard and Marie-Louise Pailleron” by John Singer Sargent, via Greg Sullivan at Sippican Cottage.

“Winter Creek Study,” watermedia on paper by Randall David Tipton.

“Charles-Francois Daubigny” via Maggie’s Farm.

“Artist at Play” by Kathleen Overby at Almost Paradisical.

“Because I Could Not Pass by Beauty” by Michelle DeRusha at Graceful.

“The Grand Finale” by J of India at Neither Use Nor Ornament.

Videos

"Writing Advice from 10 Authors: #5 – William Faulkner” by M.L. Michaels at Chronicles of a Writer.

Photograph: Fern on Stone by Nancy Rosback. Used with permission.

Friday, March 4, 2011

My Bias Was Showing

One of the wonderful things about the worldwide web is the connections that can be made literally around the world. Most of the readers of this blog, for example, are based in the United States. But there’s a fairly sizeable contingent from Canada, the United Kingdom, Germany, Russia and the People’s Republic of China.

And India.

J of India (that’s his name on the comments) is retired and living in India. He blogs at Neither Use nor Ornament, and it’s a blog that strikes me with wonder – the photographs of processions, religious ceremonies, launching of boats – all of the things that comprise daily life where J lives. He was raised and worked all of his life in England, and then retired to India. His blog, he says, is a diary of life on the Malabar Coast. For me, one of the most striking things about the photographs J posts is the color, almost an eruption of color. It’s absolutely fascinating.

We occasionally exchange emails on different subjects. Recently, after seeing one of my posts, he sent me an article entitled “Faith in the Darkest of Moments,” an account by Shoshana Garfield on how many of her clients, who had endured serious and awful torture, often spoke with utter certainty that God was with them. The first surprise was her conclusion – that these clients were perfectly sane, and that their accounts were generally true.

My second surprise was where this article was found – the Guardian in the United Kingdom.

Journalists for the Guardian would likely speak of their progressive leanings; my own experience (including direct contact with their reporters) leads me to believe that the Guardian makes the New York Times look like an apologist newspaper for the Tea Party. The Guardian leans leftward, and rather hard leftward.

So I told J how surprised I was. And he sent me another article, this one entitled “Richard Dawkins, the Protestant Atheist.” It was another surprise – the Guardian including (at least online) a perceptive characterization of Dawkins as being heavily influenced by the Protestant Reformation. It’s thoughtful and rather amazing.

And to punch the point home, J sent me what appears to be the religious page of the Guardian and a listing of a whole group of people who are blogging on the great works of religion and philosophy. The series includes blog posts on Genesis, Job, the Book of Common Prayer, Calvin, the Acts of the Apostles, Kierkegaard and others.

When I expressed my profound surprise, J said this: “I find the Guardian publishes many articles that, though often critical of institutional Christianity's attitudes, are strongly supportive of spiritual faith.” An exploration of all of these links proves he is right.

Three years ago, I was working one Saturday on a deacons work project at church – tearing out old rotted railroad ties that formed a wall along a very long driveway. About an hour into the work, a young man showed up to help (and carrying coffee containers from Starbuck’s – a true hero). As soon as he mentioned his name, my jaw dropped. He was the reporter for the St. Louis Post-Dispatch whose beat included my company. He joined us in the work project and became a regular attender at church. He later moved to another job down south, and his replacement and his wife actually joined my church.

What’s the Post-Dispatch doing employing Christians? That’s as odd as a Republican driving a Volvo.

All of which serves to remind me that God can be found in the darkest of places, places far darker than newspapers. Although I have to admit I’m still amazed at the Guardian.

I owe J of India a debt of gratitude for allowing me to see – very gently allowing me to see – that my bias was showing.

Thursday, March 3, 2011

Muses, China, a Birthday and Books

Time for another splendid edition of Pleasantly Disturbed Thursdays, with our host Marty Duane Scott, who’s been pining away up in Iowa while his better half is visiting in California. On Twitter we would add this hashtag: #separationanxiety.

Someone asked if I were turning this blog into an all-poetry blog, given my posts for the first three days of this week, and the answer is no. What happened is that the poetry muse moved, and I got carried away. Well, the poetry muse really moved, and I even have another already scheduled for next Tuesday.

Another person asked where the poem “The Angle of the Chinese Shadow” came from. It started last Sunday in church. During one of the hymns, I happened to look toward the stained glass windows and the sunlight coming through and the phrase “angle of light” came into my head. Then I was reminded of the bedroom I occupied as a child; the hallway light was right outside my door and it cast a triangular shaped shadow on the door. I likely fell asleep at least 1800 times watching that shadow, which seemed to resemble what we would call a Chinese “coolie” hat. Then I recalled reading the Hardy Boys novel The Mystery of the Chinese Junk (I think I’ve read every Hardy Boys novel ever written.) Then many of the other references starting coming to mind spontaneously, and some I deliberately added.

A side note: I was in college when President Nixon established diplomatic relations with the People’s Republic of China. My senior year, for the first time since 1949 (the fall of the Nationalist government), LSU offered two semesters of Chinese history, and I took both courses. I was more diligent about going to class during the first course. The mid-term exam was a take-home research paper, and in keeping with how Chinese government officials were tested and selected for offices, I wrote a play. And got an A. And a special class presentation of a Chinese calendar. During the second course, part of the required reading was Edgar Snow’s Red Star Over China.

Last Saturday, we celebrated my oldest son’s birthday at a Bosnian restaurant in south St. Louis called Grbic (pronounced gribick). It actually services continental European food with a tilt toward Central European and Bosnian fare. I’ve had the sarma several times (cabbage rolls stuffed with ground meat and topped with a red sauce) and the goulash. This time I had strips of chicken baked with spaetzle (egg noodles common in Central Europe). We were kept entertained at dinner by my grandson, who has discovered that if he yells, adults frantically do things. I suppose I didn’t help by laughing every time he did it.

I’ve been reading a new fantasy novel called The Canticles of Andurun: Dragonsong by Ian Thomas Curtis. I’m about halfway through it, and I’m completely enthralled with the world Curtis has created. The sheer imagination involved boggles the mind. A big story like this also requires a very tight control of the fictional world that’s been created, or otherwise the story will get away from the author and the reader. Curtis has pulled it off; it’s an amazing novel. The author blogs at What’s in a Name.

Next on the reading list: The Faithful by Jonathan Weyer; Resurrection by Mike Duran; and Paradise Valley by Dale Cramer. And my copy of The Four Holy Gospels, illustrated by Makoto Fujimura, finally arrived, and it’s spectacular. Here’s a sneak peak.

Wednesday, March 2, 2011

And on the Seventh Day


On that seventh day
when it was all good,
all things created,
I wonder and ask
what God did to rest.

No Sunday football,
no art museums;
perhaps a visit
to the global zoo
or a longish nap?

No Little League game,
no worship service
or church welcome lunch;
perhaps choir practice
with heaven’s angels?

No short Sunday drive,
no movies to watch,
no Starbuck’s to drink;
perhaps a silent stroll
on the empty beach?

No good books to read (or bad ones),
no trashy novels (or good ones),
no stories or articles to write,
no Barnes & Noble bargain books;
perhaps a dive into the Word?

No one to Facebook
or follow on Twitter,
no one’s blog to read,
no net to surf;
perhaps a spider’s web to watch?

I will never know
what God did to rest
on that seventh day
when all things were good;
I’m at the ball game.

To see more posts on “Rest,” please visit Bonnie Gray’s blog carnival at Faith Barista. The links will be live on Thursday morning. To see last weeks posts on "Forgiveness," please visit the site.

Photograph: Stillness by Michael Drummond via Public Domain Pictures. Used with permission. The photograph is of St. Mary’s Loch, Scottish Borders.

Tuesday, March 1, 2011

The Angle of the Chinese Shadow


The light in the hall angles
a shadow across the bedroom door,
shaping a Chinese hat.

I read The Hardy Boys: The Mystery
of the Chinese Junk (sounding like
a pile of refuse in Shanghai),

Or Judge Dee, period mysteries
by an expatriate Dutchman, both relics
of imperialism littering the landscape.

Birthing the love affair with all things
Chinese in the 20s and 30s, including
Charlie Chang and No. 2 son, and

San Francisco tong wars;
noir novels wouldn’t be noir
without an opium den.

Henry Luce exploded
Madame Chaing and her husband
on Time’s cover how many times?

Edgar Snow lionized Mao;
Warhol lionized Snow’s Mao;
pop culture lionized Warhol
and gave him his 15 minutes.
Mao’s heirs de-lionized themselves
at Tiananmen Square (iconic photo
of the young man staring down
the tank) and re-lionized themselves
by embracing the Japan Inc cliché.

Rosemary wanted to get you
on a slow boat to China;
Marco Polo if you can and
Genghis Khan if you can’t.

Matteo Ricci angled his own
memory palace while Dunaway
and Nicholson added California
incest to Chinatown’s legends.

They built the railroads;
we built the stereotypes.

Leave the door open, Mama,
I need to see the light,
I need to see the shadow
of the Chinese hat
cast upon the door.

This poem is submitted for One Shot Wednesday hosted by One Stop Poetry. To see more poems, please visit the site.
Photograph: Side Alley by Peter Griffin via Public Domain Pictures. Used with permission.