au verso 1983 VALENTINE Yes, there might be humans born Without passion : since there are calves Bom without heads, there are flames In magic shows that give no heat There are days one wakens in the dark Shutters open to the dim air, and crickets start With daylight died and morning wasted - " Perhaps you still have not yet tasted Our gifts of fire, fear and life (The scent is musk cross-bred with garbage) One has good reasons. But still I think no outpost of creation Would long ignore this lure of wings, Its madness, or its deep fruition. — Shanghai SISTER THERESA Sister Theresa canve in that day with a candle amd a pack of matches. It wasn't one of those long, thick, white candles that cover the sanc­ tuary and altar. It looked like a candle you'd see in a restaurant, short, stubby, pink. "Today I have an offer to make you heros," began the nun sarcastic­ ally. She had been given the boys who were going to be confirmed, because, it was thought, her strictness could keep them in line. The boys called her TWo Ton Hieresa because she seemed so large. Her reputation was just as big. She had been seen grabbing a couple of brawling boys by the hair and smashing their heads together. As she lit the candle she continued. "As I've told you before, the devil can offer you an hour of Pleasure. His price is eternal hellfire. If you choose to take up his offer your soul will writhe forever in fires hotter than any earthly ones." With these last words,.she looked from the hoys to the candle, then back to the boys. When she finished a five dollar bill appeared in her hand. "This," she said ominously, "would give any one of you more theui an hour's pleasure." She snapped the bill a few times, smiling. "My price is not an eternal flame." She looked at the candle. "I only ask that you place one finger over this candle for one minute." Her eyes scanned the room, looking for tedcers. At first they fell on Kent DuBois. He was a skinny shy boy who always had the right ans­ wers when he was called, but never volunteered. "Kent, would you like to try?" taunted the nun. "No, sister," came the reply. Satisfied, she turned to James Hornsky. "What about you, James? This five could get you a pizza next time you cut after recess." James sat straight and wide eyed. He looked at the candle, then the bill, then the clock. His eyes returned to the nun's face. Then he lowered them and turned to where Patrick McAdam sat. Patrick was looking out the window, rubbing his desktop with his eraser. The nun's eyes moved over to follow the other boy's stare. As she came to his face, Patrick looked at her. After a few seconds his eyes returned to the window. She seemed about to say something when Patrick stood up and walked silently to the candle on the desk in the front of the room. "I see we have a volunteer," the nun said tentatively. Patrick looked at the clock. "That's right," said the nun, "just one minute. Then you can treat James to a pizza next time you cut." Her controlled features seemed broken when Patrick held out his hand. Everyone gasped as he lowered it into the flame. He closed his eyes. During the following seconds the class was frozen. Sister Theresa stood poised to run to the desk and aid the boy. James sat wide eyed and dull. Only Kent smiled, although that was mixed with surprise. The rest of the class seened fixed between the painful yet exciting spect­ acle at the desk and the terrifying yet comforting nun who stood fixed. Patrick, feeling the pain in his hand rush up his arm and jump from his shoulder to a place behind his ear, remembered his brother's tell­ ing him that dying from cold is better thein dying from heat, because people fall asleep before they freeze to death. This reminded him of a story his father had told him. It was snowing when his father told him about the time he was in France, at the end of the war. He had a twenty four hour pass and got lost in the hills near Borgogne. There was snow everywhere, but only his footsteps were in it. When darkness came he gave up trying to find his way out. He figured that with his wool overcoat and hat on he would be warm enough that still and cloudy night. He lay down in the snow and his cool pillow lulled him to sleep. Some time in the night he began to dream of all sorts of things. At first the dreams didn't make any sense. They were chaotic and meaning­ less. Soon he found himself in a room that felt like a courtroom. When he looked up a fiery face rushed towards him emd shouted: "Hell!" In­ stantly he yelled back: "No!" and awoke. When he stood up he noticed that the sun was on the horizon. The snow where he had lain was grey. This made him look down at his coat which was cleemer them it had been the night before. The snow had cleaned his coat. Patrick's pain brought him back from his memories. As he pulled his heuid out of the fire, he whispered: "No." Sister Theresa had begun to move towards Patrick but held back when she saw the hand move out of danger. "I hope you've learned your lesson, young man," she said pedantically. "Yes ma'am, I have," he said, raising his eyes to hers. The nun was unable to hold his gaze and looked away. Without a word, Kent DuBois walked up to the candle and snuffed it out. — Peter John Mary Joseph McMenamin II sort. Quelle nouyelle a frappe mon oreille? Quel feu mal etouffe dans mon coeur se reveille? Quel coup de foudre, o ciel! et quel funeste avisl Je volais toute entiere au secours de son filsj En m'arrachant des bras d'CEnone epouvantee, Je cldais au remords dont j'ltais tourmentee. Qui sait meme ou m'allait porter ce repentir? Peut-etre k m*accuser j'aurais pu^consentiri Peut-'fetre, si la voix ne m'eyt ete^coupee, L'affreuse verite me serait echappee. Hippolyte est sensible, et ne sent rien pour moil Aricie a son coeur^ Aricie a sa foil Ah, Dieuxl Lorsqu'a mes vobux I'ingrat inexorable S'armait d*un ^il si fier, d*un front si redoutable, Je pensais qu'a 1’amour s^n C(8ur toujours ferme Put contre tout mon sexe^egalement arme. Une autre cependant a flechi son audacej^ ^ Devant ses yeux cruels une autre a trouve grace. Peut-etre a-t-il un coeur facile a s'attendrir. Je suis le seul objet qu'il ne saurait souffrirj Et je me chargerais du soin de le defendre? Scene V - Phedre, seule 1193-1213 Racine Ill sounding fortune, what bad news has rapped my ear. What fire stifled now heart awakened do I hear? What blow of thunder, and what fatal warning drum. Oh sky, I dear wish to be of aid to my son. In tearing out from Speaking-Oenone's frightful arms, I yielded to the torment with which I am harmed. Who knows where dark repentence would have carried me? - perhaps to my accuser able to consent perhaps if guilt hadn't been severed in the present This frightful truth, silenced, would have escapea me. Hipoolyte is feeling and feels nothing for me! Aricie has his heart, Aricie he believes! God! when toward my wish the immovable ingrate Armed himself of eyes so proud, of a front so straight, I thought that of love his heart was forever closed. Rooted against my sex, silent, equally clothed. However another has broken through his face In front of his cruel eyes another has found grace. - perhaps he has a heart easily made tender. I am the only object he will not suffer. And I had charged myself to be his defender! Scene V - Phedre, seule 1193-1213 translated by Beth Povinelli Moments strung like beads echo, in their shine, Refrain repeated time and time again. They pass, it seems, swinging. But sometimes in the dance the Click and Jump like locusts from their shells clad newly just as before. FOR MICHELLE When I walked round back to fill up the bucket three Ravens were flying back to the mountains Over the mountains hung the moon not quite round and not quite full (the moon the bucket and me) but almost. Joel Glanzberg Quiet Song I will serenade you With the songs of gentle streams, I shall garland your golden hair With weightless flowers sprung of dreams. Earth to Earth, essence to essence. And thus I pass, with that which is prescience Lighting the dark within the womb Where abides Tomorrow. I shall dance with you And whirl with you through the skies. We shall gaze into brilliant burning Sol, Who watches, one of God's eyes. I shall call you by your name, 0 Terra, and give you happy thanks. You who loved me, guided me, bore me As your own, enfolded me and sent me home. Earth to Earth, essence to essence, I pass through the luminesence Afforded by your near-eternal light Till I leave you behind, sailing home in the night.