HoopDance

So Many Poems Which Sweeten On Loss

Caution: Close Mind Before Striking

Filed under: Current Events, Poetry, Politics — Val at 10:32 am on Saturday, October 18, 2008

_____”Librarians much prefer reading to the ‘infantry’
rather than becoming the infantry in a cultural war.”

With the sound of one small snick it begins.
A tiny fiction struck by hand across the truth,
like red phosphorous on a matchstick it conjures

A devil’s firework of intimidation from the
once inert ground of sulfur, KClO3, and silica.
Scratch and its head spews fear

Jagged as a swastika. Sparks explode
thermals of smoke, slice through bindings,
tear quotes from context.

Stoked by the storm of pages, quartos
crumble under the acrid stink of matches.
Edges singe. Books blacken, and sanity

Sucks like oxygen from rational discussion.
Whole futures die in the heat of censorship.
Thought itself dissolves in ashes of silence.

Safety matches are only ’safe’ because
they don’t spontaneously combust. But,
all it takes is one brazen lie to ignite a mob.

© Val Morehouse, Oct. 2008


Jersey Boy Jewish: Philip Roth’s Indignation

Filed under: Books For Adults, Reviews — Val at 2:47 pm on Friday, October 17, 2008

Roth Indignation, Philip Roth’s newest, is a small but potent box of surprises: a little J.D. Salinger, a bit of Henry James, and a dash of Alice Sebold’s voice from beyond.  Roth follows sophomore college student Marcus Messner from his Newark Jewish neighborhood to Ohio’s WASP Winesburg College. A master commentator on country and conscience, Roth’s story is set in 1951 as the draft reaps any man without a deferment for the bloody foxholes of Korea. Young Marcus, a kosher butcher’s son, is a true American innocent in spite of his intimate acquaintance with butcher shop blood and entrails.  Roth’s foreshadowing lovingly develops the boy’s meat market education in all its gory detail.

Soon enough Marcus and Roth’s readers will discover that killing can be done with more than a cleaver. (Read on …)

SPIRITUAL RADICAL: ABRAHAM JOSHUA HESCHEL IN AMERICA, 1940-1972

Filed under: Books For Adults, Reviews — Val at 2:07 pm on Friday, October 17, 2008

Spiritual Radical 

When a spiritual polymath with a poetic voice encounters a worthy biographer, who is himself an expert in French poetry,  thorough researcher, sensitive interpreter, and eloquent writer, the result is stunning.  Such is Spiritual Radical, volume two in Edward K. Kaplan’s study of Abraham Joshua Heschel, a foremost thinker of 20th century American Judaism. Winner of the 2007 National Jewish Book Award in the American Jewish Studies given by the Jewish Book Council, the book covers Heschel’s escape to the United States in 1940 until his death.

Walk the shelves of Temple Isaiah’s library noting author’s names, and you will touch the cast of this book. The seminal Jewish-American thinkers appear in intimate detail, revealed through their synergy and their cultural wars with Heschel. For readers it’s a verbal trip to Heschel’s study, piled with books and papers, as the man himself sits smoking a cigar, sharing notes from his latest conversation about “radical amazement.” The immediacy is heightened by numerous candid photos. (Read on …)

I’ve Seen Sarah Palin Before: She’s a Far Right Paris Hilton Of Politics

Filed under: Articles, Current Events, Politics — Val at 9:35 pm on Thursday, October 2, 2008

 It Always Starts With Censorship

Once there was a censorship attempt by an operative of the School Board Takeover Movement. Multiple books were challenged, and used as leverage to shoehorn a far right “mother” onto the School Board. Her first act as Board Member was to march into the Superintendent’s Office with a fist full of reprimands for teachers and librarians who had stood up to her, including the Teacher of the Year. It got nasty fast. The educators and librarians “identified” by this little stunt (not effective since Board Members cannot act unilaterally, nor do they hire and fire staff) were barraged daily by scores of hang-up phone calls to their homes,  designed to threaten, harass, and intimidate.

This “mother” actually proposed censoring the online library catalog of the school district (remember Mayor Sarah’s library book caper?).

The More Things Change, The More They Stay the Same

Since the School Board  “mother” was incapable of an original thought, her handlers had to provide her with talking points for every board meeting, which they often delivered by ducking under the TV camera, in plain view of the audience. Read more of this story on this blog under the category “Articles“, under the title The Stand. Sarah Palin the “mother”,  is a dead ringer for the “mother” above.  Both are egotistical, ambitious, manipulative clothes horses, seekers of the spotlight, yet fearful of the media, unable to think on their feet, and at their very core, ignorant air heads operating as stalking horses for others. (Read on …)

Mortgaged

Filed under: Current Events, Poetry, Politics — Val at 10:19 am on Tuesday, September 30, 2008

Bright-faced flowers and bushes circle these old foundations,

the way wagons rolling West once curved in defense of life and limb.

This is the country where seasons still bloom from memory to hope.

 

Settlers have put down 30-year stakes and nested here on the

well-kempt streets, caped inside green yards played by stair-step

next generations, romping with their furry side-kicks.

 

Weekdays childish hordes grab lunch boxes decorated with

super heroes, stuffed with PB&J’s,  and run for a bus to that place

where they are all taught to count on the future.

 

Weekdays Moms and Dads back out of the driveway,

bearing lunch in a brown paper sack. Frugal and reasonable, they

support the PTA, make work happen, help neighbors, and pay on time.

 

For this crime of naïveté all stand in contempt, and are

accused of harboring the ‘American Dream’. Guilty of

trust and that silly old belief in the law, these little people have

 

Mortgaged it all to powers housed far from the family place,

in great skyscrapers of marble, steel and glass fed by

concrete streets and elevators that rise higher than ethics.

 

There nothing but a faceless number in a computer knows

their address, their name. The only thing green is plastic,

% interest is the only crop; and honesty died with the Pilgrims.

 

Even then some insider with options back-dated, off-shore shells, birthday parties

where the ice statues piss champagne, and bonuses for failure and greed,

is stealing their last identity for quick sale on the internet.

 

 ______© Val Morehouse, September 2008

Prizewinning Novel Challenged: The Giver is Important Reading

Filed under: Articles, Current Events — Val at 8:19 pm on Sunday, November 25, 2007
The Giver, by Lois Lowry Popping pills? Suicide? Lethal injections? These are reasons given [CC Times, 11/6/2007, A1] for two mothers’ request for removal of Lois Lowry’s prizewinning novel The Giver from all Mount Diablo Schools reading lists and libraries. Not so fast. Before we “burn” this book, readers should take these out-of-context conclusions, and place the pieces right back in context where they belong, inside the whole story. (Read on …)

Death of a Refugee

Filed under: Poetry — Val at 5:08 pm on Friday, September 7, 2007

“Old woman, where is it? Give it up!”
You crouch saying nothing.
“Nothing?” One soldier ravishes
a green crust jaded with mold,
your answer, from the
small box of your body.

Like opals your eyes alarm them.
Faces consume your last moments,
but soldiers cannot devour
your miserable crust,
or your tears not different from
diamonds, or wind
that curls snail-like in each ear.

You breathe once. Still they find
nothing. Jewels in your cupboard,
gems in plain sight sparkle.
“You are wasting your time,” you say.
Armpit, breast, wrist, crotch,
eyelid, pulse, and pelvis are
pregnant with your secrets.

One brainy pearl mothered inside
your shell, wheels of blood,
the liver a garnet hub,
intestines that gust in weighty
rhythm; thus your heart keeps
time with sighs. The soldiers
at last synchronize.

One hand knots podlike lungs
with silence. Outside snow
dissolves into a white buzz only
soldiers hear now. Their hearts
counting down time yours lost, white
drifts ticking from bone of what was
once your house.

© Version 2007 Val Morehouse. All Rights Reserved.

Swept Away

Filed under: Poetry — Val at 8:28 pm on Sunday, September 2, 2007

Tornado watch.
Hot air riding up and over
stillness. The horizon
bends like a lens and darkens
to the color of your eyes.

My skin gives up
whirling leaves of scent
to imprint a funnel of sheets.
Your body
rises over me.

Wind bends with the sound of
ripe wheat, your breath weaving my hair.
Let your hands cover my body
the way rain sweeps a landscape.
At my feet the rippling starts

Bones undulating. Spines snap,
My thigh becomes a harp playing the weather.
My nipples lift like the cloud tops. Stop.
Now. Stop now. Or run
for cover.

In a hail of kisses I turn my face
twisting into the sound of your heart.
Thunder let me be
Rent asunder to receive each
melting secret,

The way earth weeps, every
crevice inundated and swept
away in this devastation of
touches until nothing is left
but the rainbow.

© Version 2006 Val Morehouse. All Rights Reserved.

Hunter (Haiku)

Filed under: Poetry — Val at 8:19 pm on Sunday, September 2, 2007

Dawn’s red cap early
over silver spoor tracking
dewprints of the moon.

© Version 2006 Val Morehouse. All Rights Reserved

August (Haiku)

Filed under: Poetry — Val at 8:12 pm on Sunday, September 2, 2007

Summer night, trees, sky
earthly eyes to heaven rise…
Ah. Falling star rain.

© Version 2006 Val Morehouse. All Rights Reserved.

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