Ink for the Blind, or Did You Ever See the Devil, Uncle Joe?

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Ink for the Blind

I am the last one left in the garden.
Gone is the dragon. Gone is the apple of discord.
Gone are the daughters of Nyx,
the Hesperian nymphs who in dusk would change into liquid
camphor-oozing trees and sing French arias
in the winds.
Gone.

To the shadowed lakes and darkened groves.
To the Valley of Two-headed Calves where a dwarf
transports
Himmler’s brain and the staff of Moses
to the halls of Dis.

I am the last one left in this garden.
Left to my reflection in the goldfish pond. Left with a flame
lily for a shield, a pot of ink for the blind
and no music.
Left to serve and knowing not why.
(To know is not to know).

I am the last one left in the garden.
Forsaken by the god of the dance of the blood,
by red-gold autumn
and the beautiful charlatans of my youth.

Abandoned
to these old tired forms
that do little more than groan and fight off apathy.
They are dying, and the tragedy gnaws my heart,
but in their death I can sense the breath of wild magic,
of upward,
outward release and wheeling dark fires.

The vision in the inward eye of the unseen serpent.

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38 thoughts on “Ink for the Blind, or Did You Ever See the Devil, Uncle Joe?

  1. It is well, Michael;
    Your oeuvre is rich in dimension, and deeper still, in soulful trepidations. Your laddering into Ancient Myth is, too, quite beautiful on its own accord.
    I’m glad to have read you.

    • Hey Amiga. I have been working way too much lately. I haven’t had any time to get over here. Thank you for missing me & the good words. You are one of few who feels them like me.. now I need to get over to your place…

      • Haha. I’m going there now.

        I am reworking Fortuna. Not happy at all with the first version. It was a mistake to jump the gun on self-publishing it, but that’s the great thing about self-publishing. You can change it or put it out of print whenever you want. I’m about 35,000 words in on the new version & very happy with the way it’s going.

      • I think this may happen a lot with self-publishing — sending out things that aren’t perfect. I didn’t know you can revisit your work though, and that sounds great. I really want to read Fortuna when you are ready.

      • I’ll let you know. I am FINISHED with my Florida novel, new title: ALL STRIPPED DOWN. I like what I’ve done with it, esp. in the way of humor, but haven’t tried to get it published yet. It’s pretty blue collar, so that might make it difficult, but I’ll get it out there one day, one way or another.

      • Publishers like novels about Dracula, the FBI, Russian Oligarchs, serial killers, secret agents and all that lot, with cardboads cut-outs for characters. They don’t care about life in a South Florida tool rental shop. Stories about *real people* don’t sell.

  2. Seriously, man, when you don’t post here for a while, I damn near forget that the online realm is capable of conveying works of aesthetic dignity. But when I read your writing, I note to myself: Ah, that’s right, even in the desert of the Internet, one can attain THAT high of a water mark… So I’m thankful that you keep offering (pro bono) these splendors to us who thirst for contemporary poetry. And BTW I love that song that you included as an audio track & also in your subtitle — I hadn’t heard it before; and now I can’t help wondering if the “Powers” in the name “Fiddlin’ Powers & Family” might bear a relation to the same in “M.P. Powers”… I’ll assume it does, for all the best reasons, even if proven otherwise.

    • Thank you for your kind words, my bruthrrr. I go through phases every once in a while where I just have to redirect from the internet and put my energies elsewhere. It makes me feel guilty because I miss your and a choice few others’ gems for a bit, but stepping away is also a good way to recharge and move in some new direction. Lately I’ve been reading a lot of mythology and psychology, two fields I can never get enough of because there’s just so much great stuff out there and I’ve sadly hardly even scraped the surface.

      I’m glad Fiddlin’ Powers & Family didn’t slip past you. I recently bought a book of R. Crumb’s drawings of blues and jazz and country musicians from the early 20th century. Great stuff. BTW, If you haven’t seen the documentary Crumb (1994) I HIGHLY recommend it. Greatest documentary ever made according to Jordan B. Peterson, and I must say I agree.

      Anyway, Fiddlin’ Powers was in the Crumb book.. never heard of them before, but did some investigating on You Tube and am really disappointed they only left a handful of songs behind. I love what I’ve heard and like to think I am related to them… Erica is a geneologist. She’s done most of one or two branches of my family tree. One of her discoveries is that Hemingway and I share the same 11th great grandfather. That’s from my Mayflower forebears which must interest her most because she’s British. Still waiting for her get to Powers – my Irish side. Will thrash her with a fiddle bow if she keeps dawdling.

      • O god the idea of redirecting one’s energies from the ‘net is the wisest thing that anyone can do… I’m all for it: I’m embarrassed that I spend so much time online; I need to break from it, too… yet all’s well, cuz my sole concern is that you & I don’t lose touch, and here we are! …Those fields that you say you’ve been reading in–mythology and psychology–& which you say that you can “never get enough of” & yet of which you’ve “hardly even scraped the surface” – I feel exactly the same: I wish I knew more – so I’m healthily jealous that you’ve been making progress… & I hope you can eventually relay some of the radiance usward…

        YES!! the Crumb doc is one of my favorite films – I’ve watched it again & again… the first time I saw it was back in the Reel-to-Reel days (I mean VHS cassettes): I rented it from Video Update on one of their special “2 movies for 2 dollars” Tuesdays… Then I forced all my friends to watch it with me… –I probly shouldn’t admit it so readily, but I relate very much to Robert’s brother Charles (the one who lives with their mother) (ha! I remember his catchphrase: “How perfectly goddamned delightful it all is, to be sure.”) …Yeah & I recently enjoyed a book from the library, in which R. Crumb illustrated scenes from the biblical scripture Genesis, which you know is my favorite enigma to wrestle with… OH and I loved the music from that Crumb film so much that I bought the official soundtrack CD and played it nonstop… (tho I’m sure Crumb himself would hate that I got it on digital disc instead of right & true vinyl) …so I’m overjoyed to know that the Fiddlin’ Powers & Family shares this root…

        & re geneology, I am fascinated with that discipline as if it were a branch of magic, so much so that I’m afraid to learn anything about my own family tree — it feels almost dangerous — I’m terrified that I’ll find in my background a cast of horrendous characters: Iagos ad infinitium… and so I know nothing about my own ancestry, beyond my four grandparents (and very little of them, even)… But I should get over my silly fear, cuz maybe there’s surely interesting stuff there… So, to the vicarious pleasure of thrilling to your overseas adventures, I now add the vicarious pleasure of thrilling to your lineage discoveries… British Mayflower; Irish Powers: those are good names… Ah, & for me, alas, the only connection I share with the legend HEMINGWAY is that our next-door neighbors named their dog after that author; so, every day, when they let the the creature out to do his business, I hear them shrilly calling him back to the house: “C’mere Hemmy!” (They call him Hemmy for short.)

      • Somehow, Herr Ray, I KNEW the CRUMB doc had fallen into your hands. It doesn’t surprise me that you relate to Charles. He supposedly was a classic creative/Oedipus complex type, and from what I’ve heard you say about your mom and dad at different times, I think there might be some of that going on with you too. I don’t say this as an insult, only maybe from the perspective of a beercan cyber psychologist. Whatever the case – and I’m sure you know this is true – you would be a headshrinker’s holy grail. I probably would too. It takes one to know one, as they say, and what could be better for an artist but to be bowled over by any number of Freudian complexes?

        Erica wants me to write a blog about some of my ancestors one day. There’s several famous ones due to the Mayflower guy I’m related to – Thoreau, Longfellow, Ulysses S. Grant, FDR, Orson Welles, Taylor Swift, Sarah Palin – those aren’t the interesting ones. They’re distant. The better ones are much closer on the tree. There’s bank robbers, idiots, cheesemakers, suicides, war heroes, countless drunks and my great-great grandfather murdered at least 2 people and did time in a California insane asylum, etc. I found several articles online. It’s fun to look into… so… I encourage you to delve. It’s just another form of self-investigation. I agree with Aesop “Nature over nurture.”

      • The best part about conversing here on this entry of yours is that every time I get a notification about it, I see the title of your poem, and it triggers the Fiddlin’ Powers & Family song to play in my mind (by the way, I think a family band like this one is a really good idea: so refreshing in our modern moneyworld), after which I re-read your words and re-listen to the song. A blissful way to start one’s day.

        Yeah & what you note about the Oedipus complex and my relating to Charles Crumb seems quite right to me. I’ve talked about this with my friends and my sweetheart a lot, cuz, like so many other poor souls in this world, I’m always trying to figure out “What went wrong” with my life-path (Why do I feel so sure that I’m not ‘playing the part’ correctly? Or that the narrative went off-track somewhere…) Anyway, my take (as a fellow “beercan cyber psychologist” ha!) is that the Oedipus complex would fit me like a glove, if we could revise the complex from “anti-dad, pro-mom” to “anti-dad AS WELL AS anti-mom”! — I hasten to add that I’m talking loosely and broadly here, tho there’s a kernel of truth to my farce. Most accurately, I love my parents and I hate my parents. — The first time I heard about the Oedipus complex, I thot: Well that’s interesting, but it seems more applicable to sons; but what about daughters: do daughters have a complex where they hate their mother and love their father? And now I quote the encyclopedia: “In Neo-Freudian psychology, the Electra complex, as proposed by Carl Jung, is a girl’s psychosexual competition with her mother for possession of her father.” So it seems that there’s a complex for everyone hahaha! But one last thing about this concept that I find mega-interesting is what Harold Bloom says about Freud (pardon my mentioning of these controversial figures: I’m only trying to give credit where it’s due, and to avoid stating Bloom’s ideas as my own): Bloom says that Freud’s entire accomplishment boils down to basically the codification of Shakespeare. And I, following Bloom, wish that the Oedipus complex would’ve been called the Hamlet complex. If we say that Charles Crumb has a Hamlet complex, and everything that that entails, then I answer readily yet with a heavy heart: I’m in the same trap.

        Re the idea that I would be “a headshrinker’s holy grail” — this makes me weirldy proud: I take it as a compliment! I’ve always WISHED that some headshrinker out there would “discover” me (like they found our forerunner Kaspar Hauser on that street in Nuremberg) and study me, day & night, like I am an artwork. Maybe that’s the expected fate of poetic natures in a time that values only the non-poetic. A poetic soul harbors pure passion for the world and its inhabitants, so, when the rulers of this world determine that poetry is useless, and that art is a silly waste of time, true artists, instead of lashing out like PHYSICAL warriors at the system that mistreated them, I say, true artists (MENTAL warriors) are left with no recourse beyond the desire to exhibit themselves, to put their soul on show, like freaks in a circus.

        When you say, regarding unveiling my family tree, “I encourage you to delve”, I say: I’ll definitely try to work up the confidence to do so. I’ll seriously try: but I’m very seriously scared! I agree with your take on it (“It’s just another form of self-investigation”), and I somehow already know that I’d never regret it. I gotta stop being such a chicken!! …Now you say, about the famous names you’ve discovered in your own ancestry: “those aren’t the interesting ones” — while I understand what you mean (and I truly believe, right along with you, that the lesser-known, “closer” branches of the tree are every bit as interesting, perhaps more interesting — this notion of the worth of EVERY SINGLE LIVING SOUL is basically “Song of Myself” in a nut-shell: my favorite poem, so how could I NOT agree!) I still am in awe of the names on your list: Thoreau, Longfellow, and MOST OF ALL Orson Welles (who is a mortal god to me)…

        OK I can tell I’m hooked on the concept now. The concept of genealogy. But the strange thing about knowing your place in a long line of beings is that it throws into high relief both your own ACTS, which is to say how much you deviate from the “norm”, as well as your own DOOM, which is to say how little control you have over your path. And these details that you enumerate, about the “interesting ones”: that they contain “bank robbers, idiots, cheesemakers, suicides, war heroes, countless drunks” (I copy your speech verbatim because I love it); and you conclude with “my great-great grandfather murdered at least 2 people and did time in a California insane asylum” — you see! that’s exactly the type of thing I’m afraid to find out! Cuz if my own great ancestors were roaring lions, howling wolves, raging stormy seas, and destructive swords (as you know, I’m stealing Blake’s description of “portions of eternity too great for the eye of man” from his Marriage of Heaven and Hell), then I might have to face life head-on like everyone else, and stop my cowering!!!

      • I now feel kinda stupid about throwing the Oedipus complex comment out there. As if I would know. ahahah. I guess all the Jung I’ve been reading has put my head in a fever. That said, I read Oedipus Rex by Sophocles several years ago and I like thinking I might know someone who personifies that myth, all be in a loose symbolic way. Freud says we all personify that myth in that way, but Jung wasn’t in agreement with him about that. I’m with Jung (and Joyce for that matter). The monomyth seems to be pretty much omnipresent, and also a good place to look for directions when you’re lost. “Find yourself a myth that fits/and live for it.”

        BTW, I’m now starting to see Donald Trump at a Trickster God. If you can get your hands on The Canterbury Tales, read The Nun’s Priest’s Tale. Trump is Russell Fox, the fox in the story. He even has the red-gold coloring, and of course nothing Russell ever says is true, very typical of the Trickster. Renyard the Fox (Reinicke der Fuchs – see: our pal Goethe’s poem) is also worth investigating for Trumpian likenesses. I always keep in mind that for all the destruction and mayhem that tricksters cause, in the end, they simply disappear and something good comes out of them. Sometimes you even end up missing them. I’ve had a lot of tricksters in my life. At least 4 that I can think of, and none of them were sane.

      • Well tell the peanut gallery that I love them, but the advice-giving in question is not presumptuous at all! I know you’re being self-deprecatory, to soften the blow and increase the friendliness, and I appreciate your compassion; and I say you’re right: “walk toward your fears” is a wise maxim. Start small and ramp up to real adventures: I totally agree and hope I can live up to the challenge. My only misgiving is that, by the time I conquer my fear of travel, there will be no safe places left on the globe to go to!

        …& re Oedipus, I’m right with you: I like what you said and I agree; there’s something in me that definitely relates to the classic complex, but that side of me that most relates is probably precisely the part that wants to wriggle out from under the label, hence the idea-volcano that such an observation occasions! …An unfun fact about myself is that I’ve never actually read Jung’s texts — I’ve read about him and his formulations, but I’ve never tackled any of his own books. I tend to know him thru Joseph Campbell, who (if I remember right) prefers him to Freud. I’ve read a little of Freud, and I’ve read Peter Gay’s bio of Freud; and Bloom tends to wrestle with Freud a lot; plus Freud is everywhere in our culture, in whatever bastardized form, so it’s his pose that I’m more familiar with. Ego, superego, id: Who in the world hasn’t misused these terms at some point! (I wish his translators had rendered them as “self”, “over-self” & “it”, just to be a tad bit less obscure.) I admire Freud for dominating the vocabulary, at least.

        Yeah and the Sophocles play is a favorite: Joy & I keep re-reading it, over the years, always with great pleasure. When I think about the Oedipus complex thru the lens of psychological diagnosis (that is, how the analysts tend to use the term), it seems to focus a lot more on personal WILL (I mean a knowing, or at least half-knowing dislike of father and preference for mother, etc.); whereas the story in Sophocles centers upon the FATE of the whole enterprise, how Oedipus is utterly unaware of these awful certainties; and then there’s the irony of everything being set into motion and eventually accomplished by the very machinations that were intended to bar their occurrence!

        I love that saying “Find yourself a myth that fits/and live for it.” If we really get to choose our own myths, instead of them choosing us—that is, if I could actually “put on” a myth and wear it for life like a well-made coat, I’d definitely choose (no surprise here) Satan or Prometheus. And by the former I mean something more like the character from the early chapter of Milton’s Paradise Lost, not at all the “evil” demon from horror movies like The Exorcist (I side with Nietzsche re “good & evil”), and definitely not the devil as represented in the few (surprisingly few) biblical passages that mention him. I always recoiled from whoever’d read the Bible and say “I reject this God Jehovah; I side instead with his enemy Satan” — that seems silly, because his character is not attractive as propagandized by the opposition party; whereas when certain anti-Jehovah aspects become Los or Orc in Blake’s extra-biblical prophecies, or the savior in classical gnosticism, or even peak thru the equivocal mal of Baudelaire: “Glory to you on High / where once you reigned in Heaven, and in the Pit / where now you dream in taciturn defeat!” — that’s from the Prayer at the end of the “Rebellion” section of The Flowers of Evil …Also tho I have a soft spot for the traditional Zeus-defying Prometheus, my deepest truest preference is for the Zeus-forgiving Prometheus, which I’m grateful to the poet Shelley for sparking into my imagination. In fact, the too-simple formula for my choice might be that the LORD cannot forgive and thus save Satan, but Satan does forgive and save the LORD.

        & I love hearing your thots on Trump. I’m fascinated by what you say. I don’t like the repetitions blasted daily by the various loudspeakers inside of U.S.A. (non)culture. But you and a handful of other poets and intellectuals are well worth listening to. What you propose makes me think subtler thots — it’s not just a war chant of “Go, team, go!” (By the way, in case it’s not clear, for the record, I despise Trump: I will be most happy if the day comes when none of us can even remember his name, and he is forgotten among those old, old presidents whose facts one stumbles upon in an encyclopedia and to which one reacts with incredulity.) You say “I’m now starting to see Donald Trump at a Trickster God.” I see exactly what you mean, and I agree, especially when I consider the example that you give, from our most holy and sacred hilarious comedian Chaucer, the TRUE father of time). But, at first, I almost wanted to argue against your assertion, because the chief example of Trickster that comes to me, since I was raised on the King James Bible, is Jehovah; and Jehovah, as much as I disagree with his hardening into the Ancient of Days, does not seem proper company for this pseudo-Mussolini. Yet then I reflected: However, Jehovah IS sort of the Don Trump of the Elohim (the gods), which is why he ousted the best and brightest Lucifer, who then became Christ (sorry, I can’t resist the temptation to provoke any angels out there), whom of course Jehovah then cast into Tartarus, where he remains, to this day, mellowing into forgiveness. Yes but I can’t thank you enough for sending me back to The Nun’s Priest’s Tale. it clarifies your point perfectly, and it also reminded me, as a bonus, how I need to hold The Canterbury Tales as close to my heart as the Bible. Now I gotta check out Goethe’s Reinicke der Fuchs – about a year ago I finished reading thru an English collection of G’s verse, but I’m still not familiar with that poem!) Most of all, I love this reflection of yours “for all the destruction and mayhem that tricksters cause, in the end, they simply disappear and something good comes out of them.” I really, REALLY hope you’re right. I hope this isn’t one of those things that “only happens in the movies” hahaha! You say “Sometimes you even end up missing them.” I already miss Trump: I miss when he was just the inspiration for the “bad future” in Back to the Future, Part II. I’ve heard Bob Gale, who wrote that film’s screenplay, say that he tried to imagine the worst possible scenario for the ugliest of the plot’s time-path outcomes, so he patterned his antagonist Biff on Donald Trump and let him become The Ruler. Here’s a quote that I quickly grabbed from Wikipedia’s summary: “The ‘1985’ to which they return is now altered: Biff is wealthy and corrupt, and has changed Hill Valley into a chaotic dystopia.” But what I loved most about rereading Chaucer’s Nun’s Priest’s Tale, which, again, I can’t thank you enough for luring me towards, is the way that the Fox flatters our Chauntecleer, with the heavenly description of his father — I’m not proud of myself for admitting that, if Trump would be so mock-nice to us modern fiddlers, I’d have less of a problem with his burning down the empire (but I hear that he doesn’t like much art beyond TV):

        Save yow, I herde nevere man so synge
        As dide youre fader in the morwenyge.
        Certes, it was of herte, al that he song.
        And for to make his voys the moore strong,
        He wolde so peyne hym that with bothe his yen
        He moste wynke, so loude he wolde cryen,
        And stonden on his tiptoon therwithal,
        And strecche forth his nekke long and smal.
        And eek he was of swich discrecioun
        That ther nas no man in no regioun
        That hym in song or wisedom myghte passe.

      • Sorry for the confusion, Sir. I was sitting up in bed half-asleep when I wrote my original reply, and the reread of it later left me unimpressed. I had to chop the bottom part off. You are right about my good intentions though. Some of the fears you mention you have seem so easy to solve from the outside, but since I don’t know what precisely is going on inside you and have never met you in person, I feel a bit like the pedantic and presumptuous fool saying anything, hence the deletion.

        Your words re: all things Biblical, though always spot on, are generally above my pay grade. I am embarrassed to say that though I was raised Catholic, and though I love ancient literature, outside the four gospels, I have read very little of the Bible. I guess the reason is because it pressed so heavily down on me as a youth – from my school and American culture as a whole, not so much by my parents – that I still regard it as something of a dead weight. I know this is stupid. I know there is much that is sublime in the Bible, and I do plan on getting into it one day, but it’s kind of like the Germans I meet who don’t bother exploring Goethe because they were force to read him in school. Still, I love what you say about Satan & Jehovah, et al. I never thought of Jehovah in the context of a trickster, but you stated that very eloquently, and now I must explore.

        Another one of my literary shortcomings is Chaucer. I have The Canterbury Tales here (I’m in Florida now) and another copy in Berlin, but I’ve only read that one tale – The Nun’s Priest’s Tale – after hearing it was about a trickster fox. The reference came from an article I read about Trump being a trickster god and Jung, who in 1936 wrote a brilliant essay comparing Hitler to the Norse god Wotan.

        Here’s the article in case you’re interested.

        https://thebaffler.com/magical-thinking/donald-trump-trickster-god

      • [Oh whoops, I just added my response to your last comment, and then I realized that some of the stuff I was reacting to got apparently edited away from the current draft, which is different from the draft of your words that exists in my email – and it’s the email that I was responding to… If that doesn’t make sense, here I’ll try to say it again so that the waters get even more muddy hahaha: I first read your words yesterday, and I started to type a reply, but then I got called outdoors by my sweetheart and had to go rake the leaves in my yard, which took the whole afternoon, so I could only save your original note and my work-in-progress reply… then I awoke this morning and typed out the rest of my words and pressed “Enter” and here I am proclaiming in this addendum that anything nonsensical should be blamed on the aforesaid mix-up or attributed to our souls’ shared genius/monomyth.]

      • Ah I’m glad that you linked to that Baffler article, thanks! I just read the whole thing with intense interest: it leaves me wishing more than ever that I had a big loud voice that could be heard thru all the land, rather than a still small voice that only reaches a happy few, because I have SO MUCH to say on these issues: I could add my own idea for every idea in the essay, causing the author to smile and agree, and everything would end up even more marvelous. That’s how I truly feel. Maybe it’s just overconfidence, but I believe I have all the answers.

        Oh & I wanna repeat, only because you mention feeling “pedantic and presumptuous” for offering advice: I welcome all your advice and am always happy to hear it. You’re totally right, when you say, about my fears, that they “seem so easy to solve from the outside” — that’s exactly the case; and it’s a unique torment that I know how simple it is to solve my dilemmas, yet I still allow these silly fears to block my progress. Yes, you must take me seriously when I say: never hold back from offering me solutions, even obvious ones. I’m the elephant who remains captive because I assume the thin string that binds me is a thick steel chain. You’re the good citizen who passes by and says: “Why not just walk away? Nothing’s holding you!” I’m only embarrassed that I require so many reminders. One would think that I’d have risen again by now.

        Yeah & what you say about the Bible being “dead weight” because of the burdensome culture here in the U.S., I know what you mean: I have felt that too. It took me well into middle-age before I started relaxing enough to truly READ that ancient collection. You yourself know far more about the Roman classics & mythology than I do, and certainly many other arenas of literature where I am impeccably ignorant! And altho I’m decently familar with a portion of Chaucer, I by no means know his tales as well as I should. You know I try to follow that line that Blake gives his Devil in The Marriage of Heaven and Hell, “The worship of God is: Honouring his gifts in other men each according to his genius, and loving the greatest men best…” Well, by that definition, with regard to the divine Chaucer, I am remiss in my worship.

        Yes & when you say “it’s kind of like the Germans I meet who don’t bother exploring Goethe because they were forced to read him in school” — I wonder if all cultures have this problem with their genii; because I recall reading a similar reaction from a Frenchman regarding Victor Hugo (who I take as the Shakespeare of France): the man said something like “Oh Hugo’s only read by our children” as if this disqualifies him in some way—the attitude was dismissive, because of the school tradition. This makes me redouble my support for Samuel Johnson’s maxim “Clear your mind of cant.” I want to absorb everything with FRESH EYES.

        And one idea I wanna add, sparked by your statement “I never thought of Jehovah in the context of a trickster”: Yes, I should stress that when I asserted that, I knew I was saying something offbeat and controversial, because Jehovah is more commonly associated with the Storm God than the Trickster; and I should clarify that it makes less or more sense depending on which Jehovah one is speaking of — I mean, the Bible was authored by different minds, and although the Jehovah of one author is often very similar to the same of another, they can also be quite different; so the trickster characteristics are surprisingly present in the Jehovah of the Genesis-Exodus-Numbers sequence, and also somewhat in the books of Samuel. My preferred biblical critic Bloom actually suggests that those above-named portions of the Bible may have been composed in the same generation, by poet/scholars in the court of, say, Solomon, or shortly thereafter. (The same way that you yourself could be writing an epic about the very first cavemen, while I, your contemporary, might be writing an epic about the development of Mormonism; and then either we ourselves or some future editor could publish our works as a continuous history.) Anyway, especially in the early parts of Genesis, Jehovah is impish, but the trickster element in him is often missed by readers because our piety blinds us (we read into Jehovah’s character the uprightness that he lacks); which is understandable, for we’re taught that this is the God who created our soul. It’s hard to admit that your heavenly father is Puck.

  3. …and when the last one left in the garden steps over the fence and leaves, the garden will cease to be a stage and return to green, displaying the memories in solitary beauty as a promise of the future…
    Mr Powers, your name shall thus appear amongst the classics, such is the nature of your toil.

  4. This is beautiful! I love the imagery. I do have to say that while reading this, I was listening to a song that completely contrasted to this piece, but it made everything more vivid and the two together (the song and this piece) inspired me to at least pick up a pen again. Thank you so much for sharing!

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