Heaven

I have lately revised a prose poem, whose first draft was written nine years ago, and blogged here shortly afterwards.  Am hoping that it will interest at least one reader, and perhaps even bring a measure of delight.


Humbly submitted for your consideration, here is "Heaven."

Sweet and tender hooligan

I must be the only person who wakes up thinking of people in the news who haven't been in the news in a quarter-century.


Mathias Rust, the German fellow who flew a single-passenger aircraft into Moscow's Red Square during the tail-end of the Soviet Communist days.  They charged him with something that in the English translation sounded almost comic to me: "rank hooliganism," or words to that effect.  Maybe "malicious hooliganism" or "hooliganism aforethought"!


Well, my thoughts elided from Herr Rust to this marvelous anthem by the Smiths, presented here for the delectation of those who are inclined to be ... delectated?

Just like the white-winged dove

I must have said this before, but listening to Stevie Nicks sing is a sensation not unlike that of kissing a Brillo pad.