V. Alan White
Randall Terry Meets His Maker
The vision blurs. Sounds submerge under final thoughts
of baby and fetus burst forth with fecundity.
The firefighter snatches another infant from Lucifer's
flames only because their mothers did not abort them,
though they well could have. The cancer cure pours from
fallopian tubes as surely as from pyrex in the nervous
hand of the not-unconceived to-be Laureate.
All great and good not lost because of protest,
shaming, virtual silver, and rock-solid faith.
That part containing mothers Dahmer, Bundy,
Oswald long sedimented into quite another rock,
laid deep under strata of heavy yearning and pain.
At a moment no one knows, a last synapse snaps,
and descends the dark peace of Jesus' first nap.
V. Alan White reports that he is an excellent second-class
philosopher at the University of Wisconsin--Manitowoc who sings
excellent second-class songs on his Internet site "Philosophy
Songs". He is dubious of all bushes--burning or otherwise. |
