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Lawrence Hall Feb 16
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                       Has All the Gold Been Stolen from Fort Knox?

                     Elon Musk encouraged to crack open Fort Knox
                     and audit the gold reserves

                           -New York Post, 16 February 2025

President Musk will now make an audit
Of the gold in Fort Knox, down to the dime
But all he will find (he may have already caught it)
Is the missing TP from the covid time!
Fort Knox, Missing Gold
Lawrence Hall Feb 16
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                   Portrait of Monsieur Gaudry and His Daughter

                           For all Daughters and Their Fathers

Monsieur is dressed for a quiet evening at home
As is his daughter in her cozy white wrap
Leaning dutifully upon his shoulder as he predicts
With globe and maps the empires of her mind

The empires of her mind which she will rule
With subtle wit and work instead of war
With armies of thought and beauty and art and truth
To conquer chaos and set the world aright

She's a guardian of goodness in a little girl’s guise
(But inwardly, I think, she’s rolling her eyes)




“The Geography Lesson,” Louis-Leopold Boilly, 1812, Kimbell Art Museum, Fort Worth, Texas
“The Geography Lesson,” Louis-Leopold Boilly, 1812, Kimbell Art Museum, Fort Worth, Texas
Lawrence Hall Feb 15
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                                     Each Kiss is a Distraction

While we weren’t watching
They might have declared war on Canada
We’d better check around
Lawrence Hall Feb 14
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                                    Watching the Rain Without You

The rain is incomplete without you
If you were here we could sit on the couch
I’d put a Frank Sinatra on the machine
So he and the rain could sing to us

But especially to you

The rain is incomplete without you
If you were here we could lie on the floor
As I read the funny papers to you
And do you like good ol’ Charlie Brown?

But of course you do

The rain is incomplete without you
It misses you almost as much as I

Almost
Lawrence Hall Feb 13
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                                          My Shakespearean Girl

I woke in sadness that the dream had passed
But joyed that the vision had come at all              
To comfort me with happy memories cast
Into my sleep through moonlight on the wall

Through moonlight on the wall, through starlit sky
That long-ago world in our golden youth
When she danced as lightly as a butterfly
Through sunlit fields where all was truth

Through sunlit fields on her little bare feet
As gracefully as a leaping summer fawn
Or rhyme and meter when in verse they meet
In that magic hour whence breathes the dawn

In that magic hour we were once more
So very close to that opening door…
Feb 12 · 174
Groovin' on Graveyards
Lawrence Hall Feb 12
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                                       The Graveyard Shift

At two in the morning everything is old
The hours, the work, the fluorescent lights
The air, the night, flickering computer screens
Even the freshly-made coffee in the break room

At two in the morning everything is old
The way the new guy snuffles his dripping nose
The cleaning lady’s mop bucket and its rattling roll
The snoopervisor’s totally fake good cheer

At two in the morning everything is old
“You’ll love the fellowship on graveyards,” I was told
Lawrence Hall Feb 11
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                       A Penny Saved is a Worthless Zinc Disc
                                 Gathering Dust in a Drawer


                          “Feed the birds, tuppounds a bag…”

                               -as Mary Poppins did not sing


It seems that our last penny has been spent
We will miss the fakey copper glint
Our other ***-metal coinage should take the hint:
We do not have a stable governMINT
Lawrence Hall Feb 10
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                              Where Do Tariffs Go When They Die?


   “I have no window with which to look into another man’s soul.”

     Attributed to Saint Thomas More, Queen Elizabeth I, and others


And what do tariffs do while they are alive
If a Canadian cow ambles through a broken fence
And then gives birth on the south side of the wire
Can the calf claim birthright citizenship

                    (Did you hear about the bow-legged cowgirl
                    who couldn’t get her calves together?)

I have no window for looking into the soul of a cow
That is, if a cow can have a soul
Or aluminum / aluminium
Or pig iron (probably not made from real pigs)

                     (Or the clueless cowboy who wore a pig iron on his hip?)

We add 25% to this taxable cow
So that peace and justice return right now

                    (Just put down Canada and no one will get hurt)
Lawrence Hall Feb 10
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                           Just Another Smug Football Recusant

Last night at dusk I admired the brightening stars
And before going inside put the gate on the latch
While saying goodnight to the Moon, Jupiter, and Mars
(Someone said something about a football match?)
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                                    Exposition Kills Poetry

Poem:

Most exposition is an imposition
Like the supervisor who shadows you
Babbling incessantly needless admonition
Blocking your work so that nothing gets through

Respect your verse, how it dreams, how it flows
Your poetry is your will, your work, your way
But if you choose to explain it in prose
Your verse is left with nothing at all to say

Your poem is in itself your exhibition
Of art – so ditch the cluttery exposition

Exposition:

What I’m saying here is we shouldn't talk about our poetry because that’s talking about work instead of getting it done and if we have to explain to the reader what a poem means we’re not allowing the poem to be true to itself and so why attempt the discipline of meter, rhyme, metaphor, simile, narrative flow, and the many other elements of poesy if we’re just going to repeat in prose what the meter, rhyme, metaphor, simile, narrative flow, and the many other elements of poesy should be doing if we have crafted our work with artistry as well as imagination because exposition implies that either we don’t respect your work and our reader or that we have been deliberately obscure in our verse which in the event is pointless because a poem is itself, it is supposed to communicate an idea, a dream, a hope and not simply flounder about as a soup of disconnected words in a sort of the king’s new clothes of deception which is patronizing and not clever at all because if a reader who is reasonably well read and understands an age-appropriate catalogue of literary, cultural, historical, and artistic allusion to make connections then we have failed the reader and, worse, failed our own attempts at poetic art.
Feb 8 · 189
Little Thoughts of God
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                                             Little Thoughts of God

          We are not some casual and meaningless product of
          evolution. Each of us is the result of a thought of God. Each of
          us is willed, each of us is loved, each of us is necessary.

                                     -Papa Benedict, 24 April 2005


Our children play with little toy trucks and trains
Comb Barbie’s hair and then arrange Ken’s tie
They get fussed at for pulling the puppy’s tail
They cuddle up with kittens and Winnie-the-Pooh

Our children create worlds with construction paper
Discover Narnia in a new box of crayons
They get fussed at for writing on the wall
They squirm in church; they tickle Daddy’s beard

Our children love their chapter books (and us!)
“Is this a picture of a pirate ship?”
They get fussed at for asking soooooo many questions
“Daddy, will you read us a story now?”

Dear Lord –

Let our children grow up and make us proud

Dear Lord –

Let our children grow up
In 2022 firearms accounted for 30% of deaths in children 1 to 17

-Johns Hopkins Bloomberg School of Health
Annual Firearm Violence Data | Center for Gun Violence Solutions
Feb 7 · 121
Pirates to Starboard!
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                      Pirates to Starboard next to the Dairy Cows!

My neighbors’ field is low; it tends to flood
Their children sail their kayak as pirates bold
And laugh and splash upon the sloshy mud
Swallows and Amazons in search of gold

Most comfortable with our feet propped up
We old folks sit upon the porch all dry
Each an admiral with his coffee cup
And let the heavy monsoon pass us by

We too were pirates in our dreaming youth
We wish we still were – and that’s the truth!
Allusion to SWALLOWS AND AMAZONS
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                                 On a Morning of Sunlit Frost


                       The greatest adventure is what lies ahead

          -Laws / Bass / Yarborough for the 1977 film of The Hobbit


I dream of a morning of sunlit frost
An early October morning, the sun just up
At the end of the lane I make a left
Then left again on the high road north

I won’t look back at either turning
I won’t look back
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                    A Dachshund Dreaming of Rabbit for Supper

My little Luna-Dog has a bad habit
Of chasing after her back-yard rabbit

But still let not your mind be troubled or fraught
With fear for that rabbit who is never caught!
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                                Jim Croce and a Rainy Morning

When the plane went down that was the end
Of telephone operators and bottles of time
But the electronics are kind enough to send
Good memories of when coffee was a dime

You really could mess around with Jim
If you knew your way around a chord
And heard his lyrics as a workman’s hymn
That spoke of art offered to the Lord

He gave us good thoughts through his guitar’s strum -
And, yeah, a wild moustache to back away from!
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

        Forming a Committee Around a Car That Wouldn’t Start

The engine wouldn’t turn over; the electrics were dead
We stood around the open hood, each scratching his head

1st Member:

“It appears to me it’s the dead battery
There’s no indication of a charge, you see”

2nd Member:

“I’m a college graduate, so I am smarter
Obviously the problem is with the starter”

3rd Member:

“There’s a smell in the engine, something tannic
And I should know; I’m a certified mechanic”

4th Member:

“I’m a knight of the road; I drive a freighter
Just let me at that broken alternator”


But none of our skilled efforts came to pass
Because no one had bothered to check

                                                                                                        the gas
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                                  The Bright Green Wheelie-Bin

                            (Much Superior to a Red Wheelbarrow)

The wheelie-bin is pretty in its own rustic way
Thick plastic moulded in ecological green
To be rumbly-dragged on garbage day
To the end of lane to grace our suburban scene

Very little depends upon the wheelie-bin:
Unpleasant household garbage on its rounds
The really useful stuff has been well dug in
The loam – potato peels and coffee grounds

But note ye well - this garden plot thickens
For we have sparrows and crows
                                                           ­                   but no white chickens
Cf. William Carlos Williams' "The Red Wheelbarrow."
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                  Do Dreams Fade Away at Dawn? Or Do We?

Do dreams beyond the dreamer dream
The imagined lands from deepest night
In which we live and seem to love -
Do they exist at morning’s light?
Lawrence Hall Jan 31
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

        It Became Necessary to Destroy the Constitution to Save It

             -as an unnamed army major in Viet-Nam did not say


When old Rip Van Me wakes up each morning he finds
A world unlike the one when his nap began -
Who are these angry faces on great screens?
Why are there cracks in the Capitol dome?

Arrests and deportations, mobs with clench’ed fists
Grim armored vehicles patrolling our city streets
A presidential advisor hurling **** salutes
Personal loyalty checks within our surveillance state

When old Rip Van Me wakes up each morning he finds
A nation of madmen who have lost their minds
Jan 30 · 147
Flight 5342
Lawrence Hall Jan 30
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

             Happy Young Lives Rich with Promise and Dreams

                                 “I will go to the Altar of God”

Ephemera among the searchlight beams:
A paperback novel, a Mickey Mouse doll
Purses and ‘phones, and in-flight magazines
Briefcases still securing important work

Ephemera among the searchlight beams:
A note about souvenirs for the kids back home
From the Folger and the aerospace museum
Ice skates in the bins, safely stowed away

But now

Now lost to us among the searchlight beams:
Happy young lives rich with promise and dreams
Lawrence Hall Jan 29
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                             Cancelling the InterGossip Service

And how are you today I am so very glad to hear that thank you sir you have paid today so we won’t be able to cancel the service until next month I am so glad to hear that we need a mailing address so that we can send you a box for the equipment thank you sir no a post office box won’t do I am sorry sir you are breaking up yes sir let me read that back to you thank you sir let me verify your account number that is correct and thank you I will need your zip code will you repeat that thank you but our records show that your service address is oh that is not it please tell me again thank you sir I will read it back to you thank you sir you will have thirty days from the twenty-seventh of next month to return the equipment in the box we will provide to you at your mailing address and I have that mailing address so thank you sir if you will wait two minutes while I access your file thank you sir and I will need your mailing address oh I see I have that sir for the equipment return thank you sir which will cost you $350 if it is not returned thank you sir and now I must read you this list now if you have any questions if you will please wait two minutes thank you sir and may I ask why you are discontinuing service and are you moving sir if you will wait two minutes while I update your records thank you sir and I have your mailing address and may I ask why you are discontinuing service with us oh I am so sorry sir but did they tell you it is fibre optic I understand sir before we go I want to advise you that because you are a long-time customer we have a special offer thank you sir I am happy to have helped you sir and I hope you have a good rest of the day
Lawrence Hall Jan 28
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                                     Late January is a Time of Grey

I read a little in Billy Collins just now
Because Tolkien is in the other room
Along with the laundry and an unmade bed
Late January is a time of grey

I just want to sit with my coffee awhile
And then I’ll stow the laundry and make the bed
The dishwasher can remain silent until tomorrow
Late January is a time of grey

I was nibbled to death by ducks today
Because
Late January is a time of grey
Lawrence Hall Jan 27
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                           A brief Discourse on Forbidden Love

Our culture again is oppressively hag-ridden:
All love in our time is sternly forbidden
Lawrence Hall Jan 26
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                           Guarding the Borders Against Criminals


                    In any case we are not attacking them at all.
                    We are offering them incalculable benefits.

                      ― T.H. White, The Once and Future King


They began settling here a long time ago
At first they were welcome, but they developed a ‘tude
We need their charity - they tell us so!
But their intentions are obvious and crude

With insolence, edict, and a heavy political hand
They’ve come to save us from ourselves; that’s what they say
Here in our beloved, Canada, our home and native land –

Oh, won’t the Americans just go away!
Lawrence Hall Jan 25
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                       Third Sunday in Extraordinary Time

Dear friends in Christ,

The divine liturgy will be delayed for a few minutes
While the new regime checks everyone’s papers
Lawrence Hall Jan 25
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                         A Corporal Who Would Never Be a Sergeant

He was a corporal who would never be a sergeant
In a Palmach squad that would never be recognized
By the Palmach or by the Haganah.
He was a rabbi of the rocks and rubble and roads

He would never be recognized as a rabbi
He loved a curly-haired girl who would never marry him
And was friends with a little feral dog
Who crept out to him from behind the ruins

There was blood that called to him from Poland
In Yiddish and Hebrew; he didn’t remember why
He was a luftmensch, but dependable in his way
A littleness never admitted to staff meetings

He did what he was told to do, and then ignored
He delivered messages and curious packages
To obscure points forbidden to him and his kind
And the dog was shot dead for someone’s sport

With an old British rifle he cleared strongpoints
So that the officers could add to their resumes’
And he was told by the cooks that he was too late
As they laughed and closed the door on him

Confusion and smoke, and fighting in the streets
Burning corpses and armored cars, wild screams
There was little of him after the RPG hit
And children scurried out to mutilate and steal

He was posted as missing, possibly a deserter
Lawrence Hall Jan 24
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                            She Loved Waiting for Godot


                 “Like impatience etherised on a table”

                               -As T. S. Eliot did not say


She said that he loved Waiting for Godot
That for her it was a great work of art
I told her to go wait in someone else's life
Because I have built some meaning into mine
Jan 23 · 118
Substackery
Lawrence Hall Jan 23
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                                               Substackery

                         (I don’t know what a substack is)

To a man who wrote an essay on classical music:

I can’t tell you that I really enjoy your work
I’d have to pay fifty dollars for the privilege
But if you will pay me only five or so
I will tell you that I really enjoy your work
Lawrence Hall Jan 22
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office


  Tonight I Looked Up at the Sky and Named it Warren G. Harding

                                               Because I Can


     “All names will soon be restored to their proper owners. In the
                       meantime we will not dispute about noises.”

                -Aslan in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe


Denali, McKinley, Denali, McKinley again
The Gulf of Mexico is this week’s Gulf of America
Confederates in storage bewail their sin
Fort Beauregard is now good Fort Generica

Highways are named by passion and mood
Local streets for the glorious heroes of yore
But a new generation finds the old signs rude
And replaces them perhaps with a football score

Slow-fading names to cuss and discuss
But in the end what will God name
                                                                ­         each of us?
Lawrence Hall Jan 21
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                                       Tiny Artists of the Night

Snowflakes by flashlight in the deepening dark
I left them to their night of proper tasks
They beamed down to the earth all over the park
And for the cold grey dawn they’ve made great masks

Plateaus of iridescent white to layer the lawn
Transcendent beauty in a transient medium
Still falling against the feeble all-day dawn
Little artists who form great truths from tedium

And then mysteriously they fly away
To shape more existentials some other day
Lawrence Hall Jan 20
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                                           The Dignity of the Office

Whatever the incoming president fancies
(One hopes to speak without fear of libel)
Ageing (entertainers) in chancy pantsies
And will he take his oaf on a Village People Bible?
Lawrence Hall Jan 19
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                          The White House Inaugural Banquet
                           and the Idle Dishwashing Machine


                    Henry II: Fork?

                    Becket: It's for pronging meat and carrying it to the
                                 mouth. It saves you dirtying your fingers.

                    Henry II: But then you ***** the fork.

                    Becket: Yes, but it's washable.

                    Henry II: So are your fingers. I don't see the point.

                                                   -Becket (1964)

The White House dishwashing machine is idle, kids
Our leaders grub with fingers for their food
Cardboarded burgers as greasy pyramids
On mahogany Queen Anne tables strewed

The sycophants kiss their effendi’s (ring)
And fall to feeding at his soigne trough
No waiters are needed to pour and pass
The diners chortle and chew and choke and cough

The White House dishwashing machine is idle, guys
(Dessert is Velveeta oozing over French fries)
Lawrence Hall Jan 19
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                          The Holy Bible as a Base for a Potted Plant

On a shelf in our local pharmacy
A somewhat tattered Bible has reposed for years
And on that Bible is positioned a potted plant
And above them on the wall a cowboy cartoon

The iconography is elusive to me
One seeks for meaning in an assemblage:
So why this thing in this place at this time?
Existentially speaking (as we said in the ‘60s)
                        Why?

A curious piece of iconography
On a shelf in our local pharmacy
Lawrence Hall Jan 18
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

    Dag Hammarskjold  Negotiates with Himself and with God

                 Cf. Auden’s introduction to Vagmarken


          We are not permitted to choose the frame of our destiny
          but what we put into it is ours.

            Vagmarken (Markings), p. 55 in the 1965 Knopf edition


When you were a little child
If you attend a school named for Dag Hammarskjold
How long did it take you to learn to spell his name?

And you are now an adult
And blessed with Hammarskjold’s Vagmarken
How long did it take you to joy in his transcendent good?
Jan 17 · 324
Front Toward Enemy
Lawrence Hall Jan 17
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                                         Front Toward Enemy

If
In what we may laughingly call real life
You can read these three words

                                     FRONT TOWARD ENEMY

You’re in the wrong place
Lawrence Hall Jan 16
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

          Binding Each Word with an Incantation, a Charm, a Spell

You. Not a generalized out-there “you” but – YOU

                                          Gentle Writer

A mysterious thought is dream’ed unto you
Or a conclusion sails from your observant mind

You take a pen of goose-quill carefully carved
You dip it into a horn or pottle of ink
Not a metaphorical inkhorn of floridity
But the horn of a beast, hollowed out
Stoppered with a fitted wooden plug
And charged with ink of a curious blue
Of minerals or dyes or the juice of berries boiled
And worked with pagan spells or Christian prayers

You take an expensive page of animal-skin
Worked out with scrapings and scrubbings and acids
Or perhaps imported sheets of Egyptian papyrus
(Against which some of the younger brethren sneer)

Remember the annual budget! Be careful, now!
Paper doesn’t grow on trees, you know!
(Well, you could argue about the papyrus)

You set the light just right, the sun or a lamp
The Altar is where candles glow in honor of Our Lord
(And then there’s the budget; candles are expensive)
So you must work with the sun or a tallow lamp
At a writing ***** angled as the amarius says

You think a thought
You lift your pen
With a prayer upon it
You guide it down
You write a word

A word

Each word is magic






What did you write?
Lawrence Hall Jan 15
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                                        The Winter Cold Has Gotten Old

  For many years I was a self-appointed inspector of snow-storms...

                                         -Thoreau, Walden

The cold has gotten old without Christmas trees
And little lights in all their vestmental tints
No longer counterpoint the dark northern breeze
No visions of spring, no dreamings, no hints

The happy lawns of summer are mud and frost
The path to the cowshed is a rattle of sleet
The trail to the fishing hole was yesterday lost
And our boots are too thin for our freezing feet

But after our chores, boiling hot coffee, please -
The cold has gotten old without Christmas trees!
Lawrence Hall Jan 14
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                            Your Poetry's Background Check

          And above all, who is in power in that part of the country,
          or, rather, who will be by the time we get there?

                                  -Pasternak, Doctor Zhivago

We don’t suffer a Soviet Writers’ Union
Except that we do – and what are you up to?
Have you written an ordinary adjective
That will be forbidden in a future place?
                    You sound suspiciously colonialist

Last year DEI was mandatory
This year it will be a forbidden scheme
What guidelines for little magazines
Will be cleansed in the New Order to come?
                    Harriet Monroe is a non-person now

Who will be in charge of your poetry and your life
Whenever you don’t get to wherever it was
                    that you were going?
Lawrence Hall Jan 13
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                                         Stand-To for Night Patrol


                      The Americans were said to believe that the
                      Communists are on the defensive…

                          -New York Times, 11 January 1970


I keep seeing a boat’s black silhouette
Upon the red water, against the red sky
And the black-death tree-line along the shore
A dark, decaying scene, and I don’t know why
Lawrence Hall Jan 12
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                                      There is More Than One Book

A civilization writes and reads its books
As poetry, pictures, prose, and glorious song
Of war and work and love and peaceful fields
Scholarship and courage and a people’s arts

But when unhappy men with an unhappy god
Maintain that their one book is all we’ll need
In submission to build an empire of death
The threat is clear: their god doesn’t want us

Reading and writing are civilization
From the very beginning of Creation
Lawrence Hall Jan 11
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                                         The Magic in Hebrew Words

Max gave me a book: 52 Hebrew Words
For Christmas
Appreciate the irony that isn’t there –
If Judaism isn’t real, then neither are we

Words in Hebrew seem to be topped as flames
As Light - the light as truth, the light for truth
As flame for sacrifice, as flame for peace
As Torah unrolled, all Creation unrolled

Everything begins with a word, the Word
Today we will begin with Shema – Hear

With gratitude
Jan 10 · 133
Are You a Ptolemaic Too?
Lawrence Hall Jan 10
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                                  Are You a Ptolemaic Too?


            There was a star danced, and under that I was born

                  -Beatrice in Much Ado About Nothing, II.i.349


This little world isn’t much, but it’s what we’ve got
Our Narnia, our Middle-Earth; it’s green
It’s green and blue and round, an almost-sphere
Fitted with all the ancient conveniences

Let the stars encircle us as a crown
And who will dare to say it is not so?
For we are commanded to grow this garden
By the light of the sun, and of faith and love

As Shakespeare might have said, this blessed plot -
This little world isn’t much, but it’s what we’ve got
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                                     “LA Fires Bring Art to a Halt”

                 Hyperallergic: Sensitive to Art and Its Discontents


No.

A fire brings nothing to a halt

To the last respiration of the very last soul
And beyond: Art will live because Art lives -

A poet abandoning her car to flee for her life
Holds to her heart her notebooks in a grocery-store bag

To the last respiration of the very last soul
And beyond: Art will live because Art lives

A trumpeter manages to save the mouthpiece at least
While carrying his child out to an ambulance

To the last respiration of the very last soul
And beyond: Art will live because Art lives

A sculptor’s eyes record a wall of windows
To be re-molded as life-filled windows of dreams

To the last respiration of the very last soul
And beyond: Art will live because Art lives:

Firefighters wrestling a hose through smoke and heat
Are a choreograph of life against flaming death

To the last respiration of the very last soul
And beyond: Art will live because Art lives

An artist whose studio is now but smoke
Will stir ashes and water, and paint again

To the last respiration of the very last soul
And beyond: Art will live because Art lives

A little girl will write of her little dog
Her bestest pal whom she never saw again

To the last respiration of the very last soul
And beyond: Art will live because Art lives

In a shelter tonight an aging man
Will sing to himself the love songs of his youth

To the last respiration of the very last soul
And beyond: Art will live because Art lives



                                                        ­       then patch

                    a few words together and don’t try
                    to make them elaborate, this isn’t
                    a contest but the doorway

                                   -Mary Oliver, “Praying”
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office


        May Our Children Live Long Enough to Invade Greenland


Man arrested entering the Capitol with a machete and three knives

                                          -U. K. Daily Mail


No weapons in the Capitol; it’s a rule
The adults who work there must be safely bubbled
But when some pimply oaf brings a gun to school
No one in D.C. seems especially troubled
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

               “Now, therefore, write for yourselves this song.”


          -Deuteronomy 31:19 per Talmud at My Jewish Learning
           <community@mail.myjewishlearning.com>


                       “Nunc itaque scribite vobis canticum istud.”

                                             -Douay-Rheims


What song will you write for the people of God?
Something from the Prophets or the Laws
A hymn for Mary, dancing in the spring
Or maybe praise for patient and protective Joseph

What song will you write for your own true love?
Gentle rhyming for the music of her gentle laugh
Iambics and meters her intellect to please
Birdsong sweet to limn her holiness

What song will you write for the world God made?
Matins for mist and mountain and flowered glade
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                                        Daily Writing Discipline

My self-appointed duty is to write a line or two
Each day, no matter how busy I have been
But today at work I thought of little except you
And how your name is a verse upon the wind
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                The Arrogance of Proclaiming a Wake-Up Call

His wake-up call was but a manifesto
Retro1968 but less literate
Demanding that the world stop and pay attention
To the temper-tantrums of some middle-aged guy

Who knew all about guns ‘n’ bombs ‘n’ stuff
While the rest of us know all about raising our kids
Working 12-hour shifts, paying our bills
Building our lives, and taking care of each other

The rest of us have grown-up things to do
           The self-pitying waker-upper
Should long ago have ditched his childish ego
           And called himself
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                            Epiphany Moved and Improved

Whatever committee decides these things
Has chosen to shift ancient feasts about
For the convenience of the modern world
In scheduling meetings and interviews

Magi following a smart watch in the sky
The ostler wants the stable cleared by ten
King Herod tapping massacres on an app
Plough Monday must be reset to Tuesday next

Whatever committee decides these things
Is stricken deaf when the sacring bell rings
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                                         The Stray ‘Possum Café


          The only comparisons in Western literature might be with the
          Romantics or the Beat Generation, but the Russian Silver Age
          poets outdazzled them in glamour and intrigue.

                                       -Darran Anderson


We lay our scene not in Saint Petersburg
Where Anna Ahkmatova flirted and rhymed
With Gumilyov, Mandelstam, and Tsvetaeva
Among champagne, cigarettes, tears, and pearls

In the old and storied Stray Dog Café  
But in a field on a December night
Where two opossums meet in quest of love
And wrangle in the leaves of intimacy

Poor strays making…art…without any fear
Of execution by the Kremlin Mountaineer




Saint Petersburg’s Stray Dog Café was a matrix for art, music, dance, and poetry from imperial Russia to the Soviet horror, and thence into the world.  It almost serves as a sort of hinge between the 19th century and the 20th. Please read Darran Anderson’s professional and thus accessible article in City Journal:
Anna Akhmatova’s Bravery.

I am having fun with intruding ‘possums among the Silver Age poets, but as for them, yes, they are essential. Their brilliance still shines for us and influences what we write even if we are unaware of them – and for that most of them were murdered by the mad tyranny of Communism.
Stray Dog Cafe,  Darran Anderson,  Russia's Silver Age
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                          Activate Your Card Now! It’s Easy!

‘Enry ‘Iggins, Tiffany in Calcutta, and my Cousins Down the Road

     There even are places where English completely disappears -
     Why, in America they haven't used it for years!

                        -Henry Higgins in My Fair Lady

California and council flats, aye, there’s the nexus
Great Britain taught the world English right and proper
But in hearing my cousins from Caney Head, Texas
I conclude that the Empire has come a cropper!
For the obtuse among us, this is just a bit of fun.

Well, okay, activating an insurance card or credit card isn't fun; the corporations seem to work hard at making this difficult.
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