A Plea to the Lamb of God: Diary Entry (June, 2005)

6/4/05

What came to hand this morning:

Oh, Lamb of God, I am
Too sharp, too tired,
Make me more amiable, Oh Lamb,
Less tired,
No longer what I am.

So cried poor Colonel Mort, I heard him cry,
And yet he was a good man and fought energetically,
His men loved him, his country too, and did not find him tearful,
Then what a funny cry for him! I thought it made him wonderful.

Change me, Lord Lamb,
Leave me not as I am.

–Stevie Smith

6/6/05

New words. From Davidson: fucktard. The rejection letter came from a fucktard. From a friend in Orange County: buzz-kill. A rejection letter is a buzz-kill.

Great lashing thunderstorms today while the boys and I were at the gym. Trees coming down. Near their mother’s house we were stopped by the fire department because a power line had come down on a road sweeper and the driver was trapped inside. Yesterday paddling a canoe in the Schroon River I saw a sun halo, naked men covering themselves in bushes, and a snapping turtle.

Signs and portents. Heralds of vast doom, or change, or rejection, or maybe just a change in the weather, or maybe still (hopefully) vast doom.

dg