The primer then, proudly

Is the bell jar gladly

Of the rythym belonging

to life

 

Vaunted still, sadly

Words bounce off madly

Echoed through the chambers

of heart

 

Very few, hardly

Are my extraordinary

Mental contemplations

of thought.

The terribly sweltering heat

Beating down relentless

     upon my back

Dripping beads descending

Unbearable

Must get inside

     quickly,

And stay hidden inside

The cool.

Anders Zorn (1860-1920), Swedish, "In the Woods"

I used to find that art was lovely

I used to find beauty a romance

I used to find the summer was endless

And in the palette I took sheer delight

 

I used to find the grasses were lush

I used to find the fidgeting a thrill

The shadows and folds they used to entrance

And in the form I found my true joy

 

But the softer hues all have grown flat

The figure has faded from view

It is only a picture now,

Some suggestion of my former youth.

I don’t really care for poetry

Except my own

Because it’s quite good

(Poets must have extraordinary self-confidence.)

Goree and Victor

Once into the woods

Wandered they

Said the former to his friend,

“We are lost”

But never did the latter agree.

The bravest of men

And wisest of council

Often will go to bed

Before they might change the world.

Just in case you’ve wondered where I’ve been, I’ve been away. 

Every so often, the Father takes us away from the normal flow of our lives to tell us or show us something critically important.  Thus have been the last few days of my life.

In spite of the pain of this particular lesson, the outcome is my faith is much stronger than it has been in a very long while.  So, if even for that alone, I am thankful for this time. 

I’ll be back again soon, when I feel the verve to write something pithy.

Be good,

MBH

 

All right, so I finished The Beautiful and Damned last night.  Wow, what an ending!  If you haven’t read the book, I won’t ruin it for you, but suffice it to say I was stunned.  The last two pages sort of redeem the entire book for me (if I had any major complaints to begin with).  For the first time in his albeit-short literary career, F. Scott Fitzgerald has managed to pull the rug out from under the reader and take his breath away—a talent he would deftly master in his next book, The Great Gatsby.

Speaking of Gatsby, it is with undeniable pleasure and anticipated delight that I will take to it again next.  This will complete my revue of Fitzgerald’s trifecta, and I must admit a certain satisfaction that I have accomplished what I pledged to do some two years ago.

Anyway, more happy reading.

MBH

My cat, Austin, died yesterday.  He was fifteen, a ripe-old age for a feline, but it makes his departure no less difficult to comprehend.  As of Sunday he was fine; then, yesterday afternoon, he was gone.  I miss him terribly, so much so if I write any more it will get to me.  At any rate, changes are inevitable in life, and this is just one more. 

In other news, I’m almost done with The Beautiful and Damned, which I think is a much better book than Paradise Lost.  You can see Scott Fitzgerald’s literary talent blossom, especially in the second half (once Anthony and Gloria get married, for those of you familiar with the book).  Nonetheless, I think it’s an incredible literary leap from Beautiful to The Great Gatsby–some strike of genius must have seized Scott between the two to make him write such a masterful work.  All I know is I can’t wait to get to Gatsby again.

Well, here’s to my dear old friend.  Rest in peace.

MBH

Had you known me

Back in school

I lived largely in the shadows,

Full of pluck and aplomb.

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