If once again, this night 
     
     hope burning bright, this life again he choose, 
     
     to ignite once more light, 
     
    

    
     if tonight, he arose, ' 
     
    

    
     to join again this worlds dull repose; 
     
    
   
   
    
     Here in this earthly dark, .. \ 
     
     he felt again .the soil beneath his feet, 
     
     and saw again the mark » 
     
    

    
     where earth and foot did meet 
     
    

    
     and heard aga’in his heart, its steady beat; 
     
    
   
   
    
     l'f once again, he came g 
     
    

    
     again the messiahs message to say, 
     
    

    
     to cure on earth, his lame ,. ' 
     
    

    
     to Shed once more, the ray 
     
    

    
     of resurrection, would We let him stay? 
     
    
   
   
    
     he walked among usas he had said, 
     
    

    
     would we receive him, how? 
     
    

    
     or, let us to be led,.__ 
     
    

    
     waving-our palm branches over his head. 
     
    

    
     If once again this night 
     
    

    
     he came to shed the dark, and set us free; 
     
     would we accept his light? 
     
    

    
     open our eyes to see? ' 
     
    

    
     or put-him on a positive action committee? \ 'v 
     
    
   
   
    
     The Analyst: modern day witch doctor... 
     
     talks to repressed female of forty... 
     
     (he's a beige man, in a beige suit, 
     
     by*a beige couch, in a beige rrxnfi 
     
    

    
     "So you say; you don't care for it, 
     
     really don‘t, or won't perhaps? 
     
    

    
     No.- ‘ ' 
     
     hnph...hmph...hmn» 
     
    

    
     'strange synnnrns. , . 
     
     pray to the ghost of Myra Breckenridge, 
     
    

    
     . Erica Jeng is a saint.- ' 
     
     What”do you mean you need a connandment 
     
     other than let it all hang out, ‘ 
     
     inhibitions." 
     
    

    
     ,Moral of this Story? Why obvious.” 
     
     ‘ ‘ Be liberated 
     
     fBe liberal 
     
     BeFree: ' r 
     
     i be analysed i 
     
     of course. 
     
    
   
   
    
     AN. EFFORT 'AT BEAUTY AND mum ' 
     
    
   
   
    
     Ivory and indigo china plates, accentuate the fragile 
     
    
   
   
    
     fingers of her flawless hand, 
     
     passing in a perfect arch of expression over her 
     
     i ' .' , a ” \ brows 
     
     _of black and plucked perfection, ‘ ‘ 
     
     the sun seeps through the damascie drapes to where 
     
     she lay shaped,_> 
     
     7 in a Studied pose of ease, talking easily and 
     
     , / i ‘ _ ' unceasingly 
     
     0f poverty and its ills. a 
     
     I study the purple and cream African violets on 
     
     the window sillr ' » 
     
     My thoughts go easily in her shrill and steady 
     
     ,silence, until I see again, 
     
     the red and raw,.arthritic angles of my mothers 
     
     hands, as they ran, 
     
    
   
   
    
       
     
    
   
   
    
     I’CJIEAAES 
     
     ' Ill! 
     
    
   
   
    
     g [)l)(|E 
     
    
   
   
    
     Here in this world now  
     
    
   
   
    
     a..-__,-_‘_..-__~.._-- ,. .- 
     
    
   
   
    
     THE UPEIVSUN, Thursday, November 22, 1979, page 95 
     
    
   
   
    
       
     
    
   
   
    
     'On.a long dark road, we are going: 
     
    

    
     nowhere ' FAST! 
     
    

    
     Faster than hell, 
     
    

    
     which was contained within those four walls; 
     
    

    
     just walls; no halls; cubic comfort 
     
    

    
     but comfort is deceiving, 
     
    

    
     cus while you were fighting sleeping, 
     
    

    
     the t.v. set was eating me. 
     
    

    
     And the book that you wereholding, 
     
    

    
     slowly began its growing, 
     
    

    
     to a paperback tomb which starting glowing 
     
    

    
     revised rhetoric, 
     
    

    
     my enriched white bread in its plastic wrapper, 
     
    

    
     furiously fermented, dangerously denented, 
     
    

    
     it covered up the kitchen. 
     
    

    
     And if I really listened, I could hear the gas 
     
     stove hissing 
     
    

    
     its battle plan, to the cans of Lysol, stalling 
     
    

    
     in the bathroom; 
     
    

    
     now - swoom - we‘re free. 
     
    

    
     or is it too soon, to resume peace, presumed we'd 
     
    
   
   
    
     MACDONALD nee-ed. 
     
    
   
   
    
     0h GOd, now do you see 
     
     how the window frames the tree? . 
     
     Carrying us, in a cineoscopic slice of life, 
     
     no dice, the only deaths in dying, . 
     
     no crying, the infernal machine gets mean 
     
     if you don 't meet the standard of strength, 
     
     - relent, repent, return, 
     
     don't spurn the eneny: 
     
     ' it's out time 
     
     Christ died, we survived, lets see. 
     
    
   
   
    
     A plastic petunia on top of the table 
     
     between his false teeth and weaving, he left 
     
    

    
     he danced the flamingo the cops picked him up off 
     
     to the bar rooms beat the sidewalk and heard 
     
     legs bent and unstable beWeen wheezes and coughs 
     
     he gave us a step, " - Oh Jesus, I hurt. 
     
    
   
   
    
     , HERITAGE 
     
    
   
   
    
     Can you feel the chains on your 
     
    

    
     soft shoulders? ' 
     
    

    
     Steel cold strength like the frigid white teeth 
     
     of the stuffed head, _ 
     
    

    
     hanging over theioily shined sideboard: 
     
    

    
     laden with the grotesque memories 
     
    

    
     of ancient incest and miscarriages, 
     
    

    
     and the men with tobacco spit 
     
    

    
     on your white lace tablecloth 
     
    

    
     where the goose lay spiit open 
     
    

    
     5 for the feast. 
     
    

    
     0f vulgar windreddened women 
     
    

    
     and pimply sore, gangling girls, 
     
    

    
     carrying their first signs'of their womanhood, 
     
     with tall awkward Sunday school pride 
     
    

    
     and bloodstained fear. 
     
    
   
   
    
     in their soothing strength over my sweating 
     
    

    
     brow and how, 
     
    

    
     crooning unceasingly through the angry night 
     
     draughts, she laughed, loudly, in the dishevelled 
     
     morning before,once more, I 
     
    

    
     going through the frosty door, to work. 
     
    
   
   
    
       
     
    
   
   
    
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