Friday, February 17, 2012

Oh, holy mackerel

I really should be more awake when I blog.  I accidentally posted something here a while ago, something that wasn't intended for public consumption!  Big time oopsie.

More coffee.  That is the remedy.

And who knows -- maybe I'll abridge and revise some of my private obiter dicta, and make them fit for public consumption.  Or something like that.

More coffee.  Now.

Until soon, mesdames et messieurs!

Monday, February 13, 2012


To the wedding, Christ, the human, the divine,
Came with his friends, who drank a lot of wine.

The guests at the feast succeeded in draining
Each jar, each clay-cold tank, quite dry.  The wine

Disappeared, imbibed by thirsty carousers
Who you would think had never tasted wine!

Mary of Nazareth, mother of Christ, was there,
Spoke to her son plain words: "They have no wine."

"Woman, what's this to me and thee?  My hour
Has not yet come."  Those gallons of wine,

Would she have him replace them?  If so, how?
Costly to purchase, and hard to make, grape wine.

"Do whatever he tells you," Mary said
To the certainly-bewildered stewards of wine.

The lowly, lordly Christ summoned those servants
Who had been helping to dispense the wine.

"Bring me the jars of water."  And they did.
But water, though refreshing, is not wine.

Was it a touch, a blessing, or a breath
That changed what came from a well into fine wine?

Sister water, the modest maiden, blushed:
And soon the water-jars were filled with wine.

The guests of the happy couple marvelled, danced
With newfound joy.  Where did he find this wine?

They thanked their God, they thanked his unknown Christ.
"At this late hour, we have the choicest wine."

Sunday, February 12, 2012


Bob of Trousered Ape has produced a very fine, a very serious, a very elegant ghazal.  This reader, for one, is abashed by the adroit expertise and poignant grace of this most moving poem.