Up is elusive and hard to catch. Just when you think you’re gaining ground, you have to stop while a frikking freight train goes by at five miles an hour and by the time the path is clear again, you don’t have time to chase UP anymore because you’re late somewhere else. So it was [...]
Archive for May, 2009
Catching UP
Posted in Uncategorized on May 31, 2009 | Leave a Comment »
Night Vision of a Sleepover Guest
Posted in poetry, writing on May 30, 2009 | Leave a Comment »
Night Vision of a Sleepover Guest
by Job Conger
written Wednesday, May 6, 2009
His head turned to the wall,
he likes awake, thinking about her
and he senses, perhaps he dreams,
she is standing by his bed,
naked.
His eyes are open,
imagining her skin, her warmth, her scent,
her softness.
He knows that if he turns to her,
she will walk away silently.
So he remains,
his [...]
Second Look at Lenore’s Poetry Page
Posted in poetry on May 28, 2009 | Leave a Comment »
Before I begin (a metaphysical impossibility to be sure), I note for the record that “Lenore” is not a member of my Facebook community.
Lenore’s Poems Take Two
by Job Conger
written 3:30 pm, May 1, 2009
The first time I read
what I thought was your poetry
I read a home page
table of contents,
patina titles over blistering realities.
Today I read [...]
Lenore Is Gone
Posted in writing on May 28, 2009 | 3 Comments »
As I used to sing,
“It’s a lesson too late for the learnin’
made of sand, made of sand
In the wink of an eye my soul is turnin’
In your hand, in your hand.
Are you going away with no word of regret?
Will there be not a trace left behind?
I could have loved you better,
didn’t mean to be unkind.
You [...]
Affirmation of Fate
Posted in poetry, writing on May 27, 2009 | Leave a Comment »
I’ve thought long and hard about beginning a new series here at H&Q — maybe a new blog — called “Living With Lenore.” It would be about the joys and not-so-joys of living with a friend I call Lenore because that’s not her real name. It’s a 100 percent platonic circumstance, though I would gladly [...]
Day’s End with Lenore
Posted in poetry, writing on May 26, 2009 | Leave a Comment »
Day’s End with Lenore
by Job Conger
written 10:10 pm, Monday, May 25, 2009
She’s folding clothes.
God, she’s so lovely!
Not a word spoken,
Yet how much we share.
Deep in her eyes
I see my forever.
I see my heart’s joy
Glimmering there.
We who have dreams
Ardently follow
Questioning never,
Forever true,
Knowing the cost,
Paying it gladly
As only fools
Deep-devoted can do.
She’s on the couch.
I sit in a [...]
Memorial Day Commentary
Posted in writing on May 25, 2009 | Leave a Comment »
Vachel Lindsay wrote a poem entitled. . . .
What the Sexton Said
Your dust will be among the wind
Within some certain years
Tho’ you be sealed in lead today,
Amid the country’s tears.
When this idyllic churchyard
Becomes the heart of town,
The place to build garage or inn,
They’ll tear your tombstone down.
Your name so dim, so long outworn
Your bones so [...]
Poetry On CD – Considering a Special Production
Posted in arts, poetry, writing on May 24, 2009 | 1 Comment »
Barb Robinette lived in Divernon, Illinois and worked for Sangamon State University when we met via a Sringfield, Illinois poetry group. She was — and is — a competent poet, a valued friend and the only person I know whose smile could escape the gravitational force of a galactic black hole and turn the rest [...]
The Problem with Teleprompters
Posted in writing on May 23, 2009 | Leave a Comment »
The word “teleprompter” is the vernacular for the machine we callled “chiron” when I filed television news stories in graduate school. The chiron is always a teleprompter, but a teleprompter is not always a chiron. The teleprompter can also be the person holding large cards with scripts for jokes or adlibs or breaking news printed [...]
Flirting With a Facebook Stranger
Posted in Uncategorized on May 22, 2009 | 1 Comment »
The current circumstance with the sofa-crashing friend I call Lenore has unbound in me a burst of awareness of what it means to be a male hummin’ bean with no intimate (classified as anything from totally clothed, sustained touching to shared nude frolicking) affirmation of that maleness. In a sense I could not have imagined [...]
