Thursday, December 8, 2011

Raymond Carver

Page thirteen,
     Big fish downstream.

"Get him on the bank someway, I dont care how."
"Oh shit, look at him!"
"There's no place for him to go.
      See he stopped again.
      He knows its tough shit."
"He's scared shitless."
"Get a hold of him and hang on."

"I wish I had my gun, that would take care of him."

Page fifteen, sixteen, and eighteen:
Throwing him out of the water, both of us falling
Out of the bank.
I held against my shirt, him flopping and
Twisting.

"We got him! We got him, by God!"
"Look at him! Oh God. Let me hold him."

"I want to show him to my dad so bad."
    I could have taken him if it came to that.

"I don't care, they're both the same right? I'll take
   That half."
"Whose knife did we use?"
   "I don't want the tail."

*Text from Raymond Carver, Nobody Said Anything

Monday, December 5, 2011

The Outline of History

---
Drunken
Men, growing sober,
Talk loudly
Of their “love,”
“Hatred,”
and so on—
                A headache.
Dead gods
                Between the shutters.
The French
Of Prussia in the story
Is the story
                Of affairs in Poland—
Unlike.
The monarchy
Had not developed
                Government
                With a king.
Each king
                Elected
                                 More
Republican,
More aristocratic.
Poland was agricultural
With great
                Waste.
Aristocrats,
The mass,
And savagely
                Ignorant.
She also
Very poor.
She was
Catholic,
Surrounded by
                Enemies.
She had no
                Definite
Sea, nor
                Mountain.
Her misfortunes
Elected kings—
                                ag-
gressive rulers,
                                ex-
-Patrick Conners Jr

Friday, December 2, 2011

Christ the Redeemer

                Scourge Him and kill Him,
                The sacred Passion.
                                The shadows keep—
                We find Him
                                Prostrate in the Garden. To this day
The Man of Sorrows,
                                Reminding the pilgrims
                                With unspeakable anguish,
                His sacred body drew from Him,
Did shine as the sun.
Spirits fled in terror—
                                The approach of the traitor disciple—
                                Kiss of betrayal,
                His agonizing lips—
“Father, this chalice pass from Me,
                                Our sins, my friends.”
He was soon to endure our redemption.
Christ, we friends, sad story of Christ’s Passion.
                Death, we must leave for another—
                                But for us, the cross of Christ
Is a shadow reality.
Christ may be the distant,
                                Visible and tangible—
                                In the cross, great world everywhere,
                World maddened with pleasure
Remain an enigma, were it not
That he will draw all things.
Through Him, the Cross,
                and degrading torture, “King of Glory”
The banner and flag of the conquering,
                                His ever spreading kingdom—
                                                The very spirit, this symbol. There
                                                                                                Lurks the danger.
Reality, meant to Him, He
                Bore it to Calvary,
Three hours, we now see the Cross
                With roses carved in gold, silver,
And ivory.
Diadems of kings,
                                                That many forget
                                                Stand in our lives.
Conclusion, we forget the lessons,
                It is well, the warning words of Christ,
                                That the cross,
                                                         resurrection of many,
Will either raise, or fall upon
Us, and crush us all
                Like the fiery pillar, the Red,
                It giveth light by night
Children of God,
                                A cloud of darkness among the actors
                                Of the Cross
We’re saved, hardened hearts, the Cross.
-Patrick Conners Jr