Monday, June 25, 2018

Two-Line Poems Running Out of Steam!

June 18:

I forgot about that first day of kindergarten in the basement of the Presbyterian Church when strangers oohed and awed over an itchy cast gift from the boys in Florida and their pancake toss to the ground.


June 19:

The Club sounds like a golf outing, a martini, or a jump in the Olympic sized pool. Instead, it’ a Chilean film so brutal three dogs were killed during its climax.

June 20:

I have nothing more to say about church except that I’d never quote Romans to make locking up children (or putting families in chains) seem okay.

June 21:

A summer solstice, another rainstorm, and a towel, those are my tools for the day, coaxing terry cloth under an old dog’s chest, offering longer life to limp legs on the shortest night of the year.

June 22:

Bidford-on-Avon with its White Lion Inn where Shakespeare probably drank, near Henley-in-Arden and the Othello for squid and onion prep, those are the memories I hold of a place that no longer carries those names.

June 23:

“World Without End” a Gloria Patri ending, “As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be: world without end. Or, Leigh-on-Sea’s Amen. Doxology meets Documentary.

June 24:

Unitarian Univeralism has its own space in the Wikipedia entry for Doxology, with words from Curtis W. Reese's adaptation of "From all that dwell below the skies" sung to the old 100th “in every land, in every tongue.”

June 25:

What happens when we hold memories based on photographs? Blind men describing an elephant, projecting and ignoring partial experiences instead of building a whole truth.



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