This, toward some obscurity
Precariously balanced on the miniscule shore
'twixt me and the spectacle ...
I, the winds of grief, of hate and love
seize me easily, competently
and carry me, spread me through
the all-pervading wind.
and I ghost into the minds
The Individual Universals,
The reincarnation of ...
I don't know:
I feel it all and nothing.
the red-mauve sunset has lost
me in nostalgia.
Do we all cling to obscurity?
John Chrzan
Patient: Doctor, after this operation will I be able to play the piano?
Doctor: Of course.
Patient: That's marvellous! I've never been able to play before.
Tree magnificent, in the sky,
Aweful and wondrous to the eye;
Short grass who by the foot
Be covered, and lost from those who look;
Servants all of nature, to be blessed,
If they to her command show grace,
And bow their heads before her face.
But - rigid to the wind doth stand a mighty tree,
In whole body, the grass, does it bend for thee?
Suddenly from the sky, making bare the tree,
And breaking the great arms so once swaying free,
The Mistress responds:
"Oh, gracious green! I'll let thee cover ground,
For in you a humble heart is found."
John Edmison
I wander alone to the bottom of the hill overlooking the small village. It is deserted but for the occasional spider weaving its trapping net. The wind does not blow here; and the thick layer of evergreen needles upon the ancient pines screen out the sunlight. The air hangs overhead like a thick blanket of cloud that covers the outside world.
The rows of headstones have turned from their bright white to a dim grey which melts into mists. The names, like the souls, are now lost, somewhere beneath the creeping vines.
There are no flowers, and a last Lily has wilted before the coming of winter. These people passed silently from the earth, passed silently into their graves, and lie here silently, far from the great city which drew their sisters and brothers. Now they lie, remembered only by a spider who creeps among the growths upon the stones, forgotten by the world which moves on.
Carol Denniston
Algebra: 'Thy fifty yet doth double five-and-twenty.'
English: 'Some time I shall sleep out, the rest I'll whistle.'
Geometry: 'Ten masts at each make not the altitude.'
Physics: 'Nothing will come of nothing.'
French: 'Poor Perdu -'
Lunch: '(to) that place I shall no leading need.'
Trigonometry: 'These late eclipses in the sun and moon portend no good to us.'
Chemistry: 'Who's there, besides foul weather?'
Chantal lnfeld