Brian Friel

Brian Friel, one of the greatest playwrights from Ireland known most famously for Dancing at Lughnasa, is notorious for his privacy. This was one of his rare answers in an interiew and I think it's appropriate-just the facts: 'I am married, have five children, live in the country, smoke too much, fish a bit, read a lot, worry a lot, get involved in sporadic causes and invariably regret the involvement, and hope that between now and my death I will have acquired a religion, a philosophy, a sense of life that will make the end less frightening than it appears to me at this moment.'"

Eleven Addresses To The Lord

"Eleven Addresses to the Lord"
by John Berryman
Sole watchman of the flying stars, guard me
against my flicker of impulse lust: teach me
to see them as sisters & daughters. Sustain
my grand endeavours: husbandship & crafting.

Forsake me not when my wild hours come;
grant me sleep nightly, grace soften my dreams;
achieve in me patience till the thing be done,
a careful view of my achievement come.

Make me from time to time the gift of the shoulder.
When all hurt nerves whine shut away the whiskey.
Empty my heart toward Thee.
Let me pace without fear the common path of death.

Cross am I sometimes with my little daughter:
fill her eyes with tears: Forgive me, Lord.
Unite my various soul,
sole watchman of the wide & single stars.
'Eleven Addresses to the Lord' by John Berryman, from Love and Fame. © Farrar, Straus & Giroux, 1971. Reprinted with permission"

Ole and Lena

"When Ole and Lena were young and in love they would got to their favorite spot to park. One night while parked, hugging and kissing Ole asks Lena, 'Lena how would you like to go in the back?'
'No,' she replies. So they hug and kiss some more. Again, Ole asks Lena to go in the back. Once again, Lena says, 'no'. After some more hugging and kissing, Ole asks Lena to go in the back. Lena replies, 'Ole, why are you always asking me to go in the back, I want to stay in the front with you!'"

Chance Meeting

Chance Meeting
by Susan Browne
I know him, that man
walking- toward me up the crowded street
of the city, I have lived with him
seven years now, I know his fast stride,
his windy wheatfield hair, his hands thrust
deep in his jacket pockets, hands
that have known my body, touched
its softest part, caused its quick shudders
and slow releasings, I have seen his face
above my face, his mouth smiling, moaning
his eyes closed and opened, I have studied
his eyes, the brown turning gold at the centers,
I have silently watched him lying beside me
in the early morning, I know his loneliness,
like mine, human and sad,
but different, too, his private pain
and pleasure I can never enter even as he comes
closer, past trees and cars, trash and flowers,
steam rising from the manhole covers,
gutters running with rain, he lifts his head,
he sees me, we are strangers again,
and a rending music of desire and loss —
I don't know him — courses through me,
and we kiss and say, It's good to see you,
as if we haven't seen each other in years
when it was just a few hours ago,
and we are shy, then, not knowing
what to say next.
'Chance Meeting' by Susan Browne, from Buddha's Dogs. © Four Way Books, 2004. Reprinted with permission."

O Best of All Nights, Return and Return Again

O Best of All Nights, Return and Return Again

by James Laughlin

How she let her long hair down over her shoulders, making a

love cave around her face. Return and return again.

How when the lamplight was lowered she pressed against

him, twining her fingers in his. Return and return again.

How their legs swam together like dolphins and their toes

played like little tunnies. Return and return again.

How she sat beside him cross-legged, telling him stories of

her childhood. Return and return again.

How she closed her eyes when his were open, how they

breathed together, breathing each other. Return and return again.

How they fell into slumber, their bodies curled together like

two spoons. Return and return again.

How they went together to Otherwhere, the fairest land they

had ever seen. Return and return again.

December

December

by Gary Johnson

A little girl is singing for the faithful to come ye

Joyful and triumphant, a song she loves,

And also the partridge in a pear tree

And the golden rings and the turtle doves.

In the dark streets, red lights and green and blue

Where the faithful live, some joyful, some troubled,

Enduring the cold and also the flu,

Taking the garbage out and keeping the sidewalk shoveled.

Not much triumph going on here—and yet

There is much we do not understand.

And my hopes and fears are met

In this small singer holding onto my hand.

Onward we go, faithfully, into the dark

And are there angels singing overhead? Hark.

"December" by Gary Johnson. Used with permission of the poet

My Favorite Christmas Song

Truly He taught us to love one another,
His law is love and His gospel is peace.
Chains he shall break, for the slave is our brother.
And in his name all oppression shall cease.
Sweet hymns of joy in grateful chorus raise we,
With all our hearts we praise His holy name.
Christ is the Lord!
Then ever, ever praise we, His power and glory ever more proclaim!

O Holy Night...