The Trajectory of Jared Lee Loughner

When I see this man,
His face a gun pointed,
Pointed at me,
I feel the point of impact:
Blood drains;
Ice cold fear is pumped to the exit wound.

When I see this man,
Bullet eyes formed into casings,
Finger twitching between good and evil,
Schizophrenic, delusional, chasm born,
I see him no longer seeing me.
Devoid of me, the other,
The visage of reality is destroyed at gunpoint.

© Sally Paradise, 2011, All Rights Reserved

Pocket Calendar

A Scorpio,
Born in the Year of the Dragon.
Ouch! I bit my tongue!

“Contentious!” Sure.
Such passion can leave no survivors.

And so, my endless eruptions
Cover the world –
Magma cum laude?

Beware! I am a Scorpio born in the The Year of the Dragon.

Pocket Calendar © Sally Paradise, 2010, All Rights Reserved

I Miss My Children (Life in an Old Shoebox)

I miss my children –
The very life of them –
The up and down of seesaw,
And, the back and forth again.

I miss my children –
The laughter and the tear,
The playful and the pouting,
How I wish they all were here.

I miss my children –
The reason and the rhyme,
The rattled day’s disharmony
That never falls in line.

I miss my children:
“She had so many memories she did not know what to do.”
I miss my children and
I wish they missed me, too.

© Sally Paradise, 2010, All Rights Reserved

Brokeback Valley

 

******************

“In the world it is called Tolerance, but in hell it is called Despair, the sin that believes in nothing, cares for nothing, seeks to know nothing, interferes with nothing, enjoys nothing, hates nothing, finds purpose in nothing, lives for nothing, and remains alive because there is nothing for which it will die.” Dorothy L. Sayers

******************

“Blessed are the poor in spirit for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.”  Jesus

******************

THOU hast made me, and shall Thy work decay?
Repair me now, for now mine end doth haste;
I run to death, and Death meets me as fast,
And all my pleasures are like yesterday.
I dare not move my dim eyes any way;
Despair behind, and Death before doth cast
Such terror, and my feeble flesh doth waste
By sin in it, which it towards hell doth weigh.
Only Thou art above, and when towards Thee
By Thy leave I can look, I rise again;
But our old subtle foe so tempteth me,
That not one hour myself I can sustain.
Thy grace may wing me to prevent his art
And thou like adamant draw mine iron heart

John Donne, The Holy Sonnets I.

William H. Johnson

Mount Calvary by Wiiliam H. Johson, 1944

(The bright coloring used in the painting reveals the promise of the resurrection.)

*******

Holy Sonnet XI: Spit In My Face You Jews, And Pierce My Side by John Donne

Spit in my face you Jews, and pierce my side,
Buffet, and scoff, scourge, and crucify me,
For I have sinned, and sinned, and only he
Who could do no iniquity hath died:
But by my death can not be satisfied
My sins, which pass the Jews’ impiety:
They killed once an inglorious man, but I
Crucify him daily, being now glorified.
Oh let me, then, his strange love still admire:
Kings pardon, but he bore our punishment.
And Jacob came clothed in vile harsh attire
But to supplant, and with gainful intent:
God clothed himself in vile man’s flesh, that so
He might be weak enough to suffer woe.

UltraSound

UltraSound

  

Look! Joseph!  Look!

Space and time converge

In my belly!

_

Test.

Submission:

_

The Three-in-One now resides

Etched within a black and white sonogram:

A baby (no storm in a tea cup!)!

See the heart beating? The limbs akimbo?

“Put your hand on my side, Thomas.”

Can you feel the sound waves of My Being: Your God and My God immersed in time?

Yes! I feel it!

A kick!

A belly full of kenosis!

Fetal tissue,

Hanging on limbs –

The weight of glory descending down –

Soon will suffer evil

To save hoary Adam,

Banishing the body’s self-absorption called Death

From the garden and

For all.

(A womb may hold Him;  A tomb can not.)

****

© Sally Paradise, 2010, All Rights Reserved

O Holy Flight (From Christmas)

(A postmodern Christmas)

Christmas Eve:

Over the waiting and through the body scanner,

To grandmother’s house we go…

The TSA knows the way,

To handle …your package.

“Underwear bombers move to the end of the line, please!”

  ***

Yuletide carols being sung by a secular choir;

Female pop singers whining down another year,

Music streaming, reprogramming.

***

Broke, Flat-out busted, Best Buy-ed,

Macy, Macyier, Macyest,

Amassed among the Amazon-ed.

***

Fizz the season, too, by golly:

“Plop, Plop. Fizz. Fizz.

O, what a relief it is!”

 ***

Sprigs of Hollywood and Vine dance while

Visions of HD sugar plums fairies

Tug remotely at

Lazy Boys

Churning.

***

Egg nog, glug and figgy pudding?

G-G-Ghosts of Christmas gastronomy.

***

Superstore angels bring good tidings of great joy:

Black Friday is the new White Christmas!

***

Down the chimney,

“Ho, Ho, Ho,”

Global Warming comes,

Inconveniently,

Melting away minutes of our snow covered evening.

Bah, Humbug you opportunistic

Scrooge of a scourge.

“I’ll cap and trade your ass!”

***  

Up on the housetop reindeer pause…

Carbon footprints in the snow! Oh, no!

Update:  Reindeer games beginning 10:00 EST.

***

Santa, “APPROVED”,

Baby Jesus, ACLU’d.

Nativity Receptivity?

It takes a village to raze a Christ Child.

*****
Marquee lights announce the second coming of Black Friday.

Electrified houses boast of more watts per square inch.

Tree lights twinkle when tickled by boughs

Glowing snowmen bobbing, bobbing slow men glowing

White blinking lights, sentinels flanking our windows,

Warn us of Christmas!

****

© Sally Paradise, 2010, All Rights Reserved

Golden Boy

You come to my screen door
Bare-chested, bronzed,
Sandy hair surfing your head;

Now, I’m riding a memory pipeline:

-Toasted days popping up,
-Tequila soaked mornings,
-Topless cars, aqua Jello pools,
-Tecate hosting lime and
Threadbare clouds.

…Ban de Soleil dollops and
—-Flip!
—–Flop!

You come to my screen door
Salty; Sand-caked:
“Hey, dude, Surf’s up.”
“Waves don’t wait.”

(The girls always find you.
Under the sun, riding the sea,
Your boogey-board charm
Ogled by Oakley eyes.)

You come to my screen door
I say,
“Summer, you’re too lazy to be much good,
But I’ll keep you ‘round just to look at.”

© Sally Paradise, 2010, All Rights Reserved

Imagination-The eye of the storm

Disillusionment of Ten O’Clock

The houses are haunted
By white night-gowns.
None are green,
Or purple with green rings,
Or green with yellow rings,
Or yellow with blue rings.
None of them are strange,
With socks of lace
And beaded ceintures.
People are not going
To dream of baboons and periwinkles.
Only, here and there, an old sailor,
Drunk and asleep in his boots,
Catches tigers
In red weather.

Wallace Stevens

The Fourth Of July

 

  “O Beautiful for Spacious skies:”

Our star-spangled sky awaits the launch of the surprise party.

Batteries of anxious fireworks keep cover in the bushes,

“Happy Birthday!” forever moments away.

***

 The guests of honor arrive blanketed with family.

Squares of earth are filled with tonight’s squatters.

“Look!”  The party now begins:

A single whistling flare finds its way up to center stage –

 

KA-BOOM!

Now, other party favors come out of hiding:

Reverberation Red

Whistling White

Brandishing Blue

Go-for-it Green

Poised Purple

Startling Silver

Yackety Yellow

Gracious Gold

Outspoken Orange

***

A jetting candle begins with a swoosh,

Then,

a hunting, hinting sizzle scorches a path upward

Then,

A silence pauses mid air

Then,

a whispered cork pop releases

 

KA-BABOOM!

A sudden burst of Spectacular etches America’s book cover.

The book:

The Land of the Free, The Home of the Brave.

***

 The birthday party continues on the ground:

– Sparklers arcing on sticks, light splashing onto large-eyed looks

– Smoke bombs cloaking crowds in fogs

– Snakes coiling out of their black dot cages

– Rockets shooting straight up to find freedom

– Fountains erupting impulsively

 – M80s breaking the drums of ears.

***

Heaven gazing figures are photographed,

Secretly captured by a popping flash bulb sky.

Gun powder sulphers the air,

Ashes rain down speckling faces.

***

Today, there has been preparation for the birthday party:

Parades lined the streets,

Marching bands bugled and drummed The Stars and Stripes,

Pies, apple and blueberry, were swallowed à la mode,

Picnics popped up in parks,

Punch tie-dyed white tee shirts,

Potato sack races tripped up with laughter,

Horseshoes were flung at neighbors.

***

Flags are bowed forward on porches,

Flags wave fields of stars,

Flags march stately with fields unfurled,

Flags receive honor when are hats are removed, when salutes are rendered,

Rendered by men and women who secured their honor with life and limb.

Grandparents, smiling their tearful approval from lawn chairs,

Stretch out tired legs and stand for Old Glory.

***

America, you are beautiful,

From sea to shining sea beautiful.

Tonight we see your birthday smile,

Your ear-to-ear you grin, revealing to us your dazzling braces:

“Liberty under God and the law”.

Each year we return to your birthday party with fused smiles and arsenals of hope

Seeking sparks of optimism to ignite our dreams and shoot them skyward.

With wide-eyed wonder we stare into your “Spacious Skies”

Wishing you many more.

******

© Sally Paradise, 2010, All Rights Reserved