Tuesday, August 20, 2013

The Seventh Day

Written beside the St. Croix River on July 28th, 2013.

And God said: let us make man in our own image. He will know good and evil, and he will know the godliness of beauty.

And let him see lights above him that wheel across the sky: a billion stars and a virgin moon that mocks the earth. Let him see Katahdin and Chesuncook, each terrifying in its bigness and holy unto something unknown. Let him read the thundering Bible and the sweet Symposium. Let him hear angel-song in the mouths of elven tenors. And let him sense the white leviathans that stir in the deep, forever half-hidden from him.

Let man behold all this, but let him be cut off from it. Let him be mired in pettiness and sick with earthly life. Let him sneeze and be restless and squabble with strangers at the airport. He may see the angels of heaven in his fevered visions—but he may not struggle with a single one.

And there was evening and there was morning—a sixth day. And God repented of the curse that he had laid on man. And God said:

Let him also have peace.

Monday, February 4, 2013

To Smiling Virtue

     Humean Timothy
     sat in his postered-up
     dorm-room at Yale.
"Ethics I've jettisoned
     all of my morals are
     empty and stale!"

     Kantian Anthony
     sold off his clothing and
     made himself poor.
"Though I can't stomach this,
     still I'll press on with it,
     helping Darfur."

     good-hearted Emily
     dog-eared the Ethics in
     laughing dismay.
"Who ever thought to write
     Julia's sick, so I'd
     better not stay."