Goines On: †hank you Jesus

Click image for more vignettes

Whenever Goines passed the “†hank you Jesus” sign in the front yard of his friend and neighbor who was an ordained Christian minister, he checked whether someone in the family had cleaned it yet. So far, over many months – maybe more than a year – they hadn’t done so. The accumulated dirt and grime on the sign had become as noticeable as the words beneath it, and Goines had often itched to bring some Clorox wipes on his walk to clean the sign, or just come back after a walk especially for the purpose. It would be easy to do, wouldn’t take a minute. He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t done it. Maybe because it would be trespassing, even if he was “doing them a favor.” Maybe they wanted the sign to be dirty?

All Over the Place: Freedom

By Michael H. Brownstein

[From an anecdote by Alexander Yakoulov, who tells of one of Stalin’s trains on the way to Siberia stopping very briefly at a crossing and leaving behind a litter of small scraps of paper full of addresses, names, and phone numbers]


I was there when the train stopped,
Vents open in the cardinal corners like scars
Or better — the pox mark left by a crucifixion.
The day was a solid blue, so pretty, beautiful.
I could not know what was soldered in behind
Sealed doors and steel curtained windows,
But I could see the litter of paper scraps like rain.
When the train left, I picked up as many as I could
Pretending to be the one in charge of cleaning platforms.
When you bend to work, it is easy to deceive.

The Loneliest Liberal: Mo...m

By James Knudsen

[Originally published on February 28, 2015.]

Two-thousand fourteen ended with my siblings and me officially joining the ranks of the orphans following the passing of our dad Mo. I commemorated the event by changing the wallpaper on my smart phone to a very “Mad Men” shot of dad that was taken at a studio. This was replaced after a month with a picture of Dad and Mom which remains to this day.

Goines On: Table thought

Click image for more vignettes

Goines could tell that Mrs. Goines was thinking of something unpleasant during dinner. Between bites and chewing, her lips would twitch and quiver as though she were mouthing thoughts, but not mouthing them sufficiently for Goines to read. Both of the Goineses usually, and normally, occupied themselves during meals by thinking of this or that, occasionally breaking in to the other’s thoughts with an announcement of what they had just been thinking. “Do you remember when Nat told Gabriel in that restaurant that she could get Legionnaires’ Disease from eating the food?”

Fiction: Jaudon – An American Family (a novel) [16]

Click image for more of the saga

Chapter 16. Gay Paree

Claude Jaudon and Joc DeSalle made the crossing from Liverpool, England, to Le Havre, France, on the good ship RMS Scythia. Le Havre was a busy port of entrée, with ships from every country on continental Europe in its harbor.
    Aboard ship, Joc had inquired where Claude was spending the night. Claude hadn’t given any thought to spending the night in Le Havre. He had planned to catch the train and sleep aboard it until Paris. With most hotels full, Joc offered to share his room with Claude. Claude gladly accepted and now they stood on the dock awaiting a carriage to take them and their baggage to the inn where Joc had reserved a room.

Father’s Art: Works of Billy Charles Duvall [1]

Detail from “October 1978”

Introductory

By André Duvall

With great respect and admiration, I am delighted to present the first in a series of posts sharing the artwork of my father, Billy Charles Duvall. Painting – primarily oil on canvas – has been one of his hobbies since 1978. A self-taught painter, he has had a lifelong interest in the work of artists from varied cultural backgrounds, and in reflecting their art in his own experiments with structural, artistic additions to his home, inside and out.

Sketches from the Twin Cities: Bloomington Haikus

Morning rounds

By Geoffrey Dean

[Composed in Bloomington, Illinois, this summer.]








bench in graying greens
greets at a corner bus-stop –
moss meets moisture here

Goines On: Side by side with Jesus

Click image for more vignettes

Goines watched the birds cavorting around their feeders. He wanted so much to be one with them, their brother. In a flash, he saw that he was their brother – as much as it was possible to be. Because he loved them, cared for them. Cared about them. And in another flash, he saw that hunters, especially trophy hunters, were not – and could not become – at one with the animals they treated as objects. He remembered Kant’s categorical imperative.

All Over the Place: The Prince of War

By Michael H. Brownstein











My stomach full of casualties of war
Mango juice, pomegranates, Asian apples,
Sweat from carpet makers tethered to fabrics of goat.

Book Review: A Slipknot into Somewhere Else

Poet Michael H. Brownstein’s “Journey to the Borderlands of Dementia”

By Moristotle

A lot of books are easier to read and review than Michael H. Brownstein’s A Slipknot into Somewhere Else. Maybe most books. Some of the poems in this collection, on their first reading, seem to be only just begun and not yet fully formed or developed, as though an early draft had made it to press by mistake. But read them again.
    For that first impression of “undeveloped” is when the work of reading begins, and – if you enjoy the intellectual and emotional challenge of reading difficult poems whose author you trust – the pleasure of discovery also begins, not only of meanings and associations in the poet’s words, but also of depths and meanings in yourself. This review may be more a report of some of my experiences reading the book than a critical appraisal of it (that, fortunately for me, is one definition of “review”). Other readers will have their own experiences.

Goines On: When it isn’t a turtle

Click image for more vignettes

On his early morning walk, Goines saw a newspaper headline on one of the driveways he passed. He bent down to rotate the bag so he could read it: “Mueller denies exoneration.” A shame – a shame! – Goines thought, to have a man in the White House so depraved and criminal as to completely drain the possibility of having respect even for the Office of the President while he occupied it.

Fiction: Jaudon – An American Family (a novel) [15]

Click image for more of the saga

Chapter 15. The Deal

Ricardo entered the Wayfare Hotel. In a number of the leather chairs spread across the lobby sat men smoking cigars and reading newspapers. Most still had their coats on, as the lobby was chilly if you weren’t sitting near the large fireplace in the wall about halfway to the registration desk. A lone woman sat in one of the chairs with a baby. Ricardo guessed she might be waiting for her husband.
    To his right, on his way to the check-in desk, was the entrance to the bar. He glanced inside, hoping to spot J.F. Jaudon. He was disappointed not to see him, but he knew that he would be along sooner or later.

Goines On: Miracle in Paris

Click image for more vignettes

When Goines was in Paris in April, he witnessed – and was even able to access his camera in time to photograph – a miracle so powerful that he had, in the ensuing months, once or twice considered going to church again.

Interview: Tiffany McLemore on the road advocating

What it takes to knock on a stranger’s door

Interviewed by Moristotle

I met Tiffany McLemore when she knocked on our door to look into advising us on our health insurance. She came in person rather than telephone because I had indicated (falsely) on the postcard I’d mailed back “for information” that we had “no phone” – my reason of course being that I didn’t want a telephone call. I was actually expecting an email, if anything. Certainly not for someone to knock on my door.
    But there she was, smiling, friendly, open, kind. I felt as though I could open up to her, so I confessed that the only reason I had for mailing back that post card inquiring about our health insurance was to see whether I could get one of the promised Walmart gift cards. I was struck by the ease with which she said to my wife, who was standing beside me: “He’s a funny guy.” My wife didn’t disagree.
    I think that the knock probably says a lot about Ms. McLemore. So I emailed the address on her business card later and asked her whether she would like to do an interview. Graciously, she said yes. My questions are in italics.

Goines On: About face

Click image for more vignettes

The dream Goines had just awakened from was still vivid. A maga-church had opened in town. A broad neon sign beneath its curious, presidential cross – presidential because the top of the cross’s vertical was missing – blazed the name, “Church of the iMAGAlate Conception.” A cavalcade of black SUVs paraded around the packed, many-acre parking lot and came to a halt when the second vehicle was abreast the main entry walk. President Donald Triump stepped out and only nodded at the thousands of parishioners craning their necks for a look, for a meeting of their eyes with the eyes of their hero. Their disappointment was audible as the President made his way solemnly to the entrance and to the podium facing the 2,000 occupied chairs of the auditorium.