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  • 09/13/15--21:09: Article 1



  •                                                    "Momma they shot me."

    99 days ago Tywanza Sanders died in his Mother's arms in the Charleston church massacre.  I witnessed his mother Felicia Sanders on video this morning praying God's Grace and mercy for all her son's killers. I had already forgotten about her with so much else going on in the news. I don't really believe in Jesus, not like Felicia does, not yet. But I stifled the rage and hate that inhabits my inconsistent heart and I prayed with her--that is to say, I silently mouthed the words; 'forgive them.' Sometimes I wonder how God mourns. So like many others before me have done, I brought my wounds and prayers to Jerusalem and wept upon the marble Stone of Unction where Jesus mangled body was prepared for burial. The ancient marble slab at the entrance to the Church of the Holy Sepulcher is now half worn away by all the tears and kisses of the centuries of mourners. Some believe that when our sorrow and grief have melted that stone completely away, then Jesus will return and gather all those redeemed tears into a New World. I pray it may be so. I pray that we don't just replace the stone.

    Mother; Felicia, forgive me.

    Late Gothic Pieta from Lubiąż in Lower Silesia, Poland.


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  • 09/27/15--07:40: Article 0


  • Before Pope Francis there was another and I wrote this poem for him…and Bella.  Benedetto XVI once wrote, "In the end, even the "yes" of Love is a source of suffering--love always requires that I allow myself to be wounded otherwise it ceases to be love." Those are hard words for me to embrace right now, except for grace.

    Sedia Vacante
    Papa Vecchio
    E Bella

    #1. The Agony in the Garden

    Benedetto tallies his rosary alone as
    Fall shadows the single window
    Where light escapes over the Leonine walls
    Shoe-less Sisters have left tea and schnapps
    Beside a phone that no longer rings

    #2. The Scourging at the Pillar

    Flushed Cardinals once bobbed their beaks
    In and out of feeders near his cell
    But the old man no longer chases away
    The black crows who rob their seed and
    Steal their chicks

    #3. The Crowning with Thorns

    Once there was a young woman in Schulstraße
    Who tormented him with night-sweats and doubt
    But she did not survive the war and his
    Cloistered loins never burned for another though
    Her body was never found

    #4. The Carrying of the Cross

    Mozart has finished his quintet but
    the old priest is so deep in prayer with
    The Virgin Mother
    Just a single eye cracks when
    Purring Bella claws into his lap

    #5. The Crucifixion and Death

    Only the boisterous cheers and applause
    Carried by the wind from
    The far side of Vatican hill
    Cause his fingers to forget their place
    Among the five sorrowful mysteries


    Outside my  studio/shed




























    Klediments:

    "The world is divided between capitalism and fundamentalism – in other words, between those who believe too little and those who believe too much." (Zizek).

    “All paradises, all utopias are designed by who is not there, by the people who are not allowed in." (Toni Morrison)

    * I am making a list of all my beliefs that I would be willing to spend 5 days in jail for as my staunch sister Kim Davis in Kentucky did.  So far its a very short list.

    * Not that anybody in the debates asked for his birth certificate, but I believe that #2 Presidential candidate Ben Carson was born in Detroit to Seventh-Day Adventist parents. (wiki)

    *I'm so over self-validating, closed-circuit systems of mutually reinforcing assumptions and their apologetics that ever more deeply beg the question, and the mental/emotional knots they tie folks up in." (David Fetcho)

    * Roman Catholic politicians of all kinds may disagree, but I'm not sure that Pope Francis is entirely on board with the historical religious project of converting or killing all heretics, infidels, and unbelievers.  Interestingly, it seem that others are willing to take up the challenge?  Well, God never closes a door without opening……

    * ''Give to everyone who asks you, and if anyone takes what belongs to you, do not demand it back.'' (J)

    *  “Prayer holds together the shattered fragments of creation. It makes history possible.” (Jacques Ellul )

    *Sometimes, no matter how often or loudly or how much apparent love, grace, and forgiveness, I proclaim, my own prayers still seem boil down to, "Lord, smite my enemies." Fortunately, I am my own worst enemy.

    *  “When you live in the dark for so long, you begin to love it. And it loves you back, and isn’t that the point? You think, the face turns to the shadows, and just as well. It accepts, it heals, it allows. But it also devours.”  (Raymond Carver)

    *  “Nothing true can be said about God from a posture of defense.” (Marilynne Robinson)

    *We know that the Jews were prohibited from investigating the future. The Torah and the prayers instruct them in remembrance, however. This stripped the future of its magic, to which all those succumb who turn to the soothsayers for enlightenment. This did not imply, however, that for the Jews the future turned into homogeneous empty time. For every second of time was the strait gate through which the Messiah might enter." (Walter Benjamin)

    “Rats and roaches live by competition under the law of supply and demand; it is the privilege of human beings to live under the laws of justice and mercy.” (Wendell Berry)

    * "And that work of liberation is not *glorification* of the self, but rather a kind of social freedom for the continual and persistent resistance against other lords." (prof. Ry Siggelkow)

    **  “What is honor compared to a woman's love? What is duty against the feel of a newborn son in your arms or the memory of a brother's smile? Wind and words. Wind and words. We are only human, and gods have fashioned us for love. That is our great glory, and our great tragedy.”  (George R.R. Martin)

    *  Forgiveness loves the past with hope—rather than with desire—that it will not in the end have been simply what it was." (prof. Craig Keen)

    I have seen enough death to know that dying isn’t just dying. There are a million ways to die and live.   Jesus has the one. We have our million." (prof. Anne Michelle Carpenter).

    *  "So awestruck were we, by the falling stars, that we never noticed that the world was burning.  And as the smoke filled our throats, our final words — we spoke without knowing we would forever after be silent — were ‘thank you’.   Then we too were burning.  With the plants, with the oceans, with the animals,we were all of us burning.  Our lungs blossoming into flowers; the fire in our bones at last released to join the fire in the earth, in the air, on the water." (Dan MzacKenzie)

    "Light has come into the world, and the darkness will never overcome it." (J)

    Blessings, and very much obliged.    


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  • 10/28/15--11:52: Article 0


  • This painting was my attempt to make a copy of Vincent's "Wheat field With Crows," for a "Forgery Art Show" here on the Island a few years ago.  The accompanying poem references Wallace Steven's "13 Ways of Looking at a Black bird."

    13 Other Ways Of Looking At a Black Bird.  Daniel Imburgia  (Way one:  Through Vincent's Wheat Field with Crows)

    I.
    The crow as knowing
    Growing in the sky-scape
    Racing the storm among
    Double moon swarms

    II.
    Only these crows can testify
    To why Vincent was murdered
    In a wheat-field where miraculously
    Un-healed he survived

    III.
    Wounded by lead-gray grieving
    Bleeding Cochineal lake
    Vermillion contrasted against
    Vandyck brown and smalt viridian

    IV
    Invisible to all but he
    Three advents direct his fall
    Cawed by the 57 black birds
    Inscribed in his final canvas

    V.
    Experts accuse the Jesuit crows
    Rose in fear and fled from
    Vincent as he erected his
    Easel and gauged perspective

    VI.
    But hearing the shot and cry
    Why would darkness flee
    He whose deprivation and lack
    Exposed only more mystery

    VII.
    Field, sky, birds, roads,
    Chose this pilgrim pigment
    Instead of chrome stars Umber
    Gashes in murderous constellations

    VIII.
    Rising ochred tears of grain
    Strain to fly among the swirl of
    Blue rosettes without a why
    Bend, break, fall, and die

    IX.
    The sower scattering his seed
    Heeds the internal coming to be
    Shakes each kernel from its husk
    Un-forsaken by eternity

    X.
    The work of being world and making
    Breaking earth in old peasant's shoes
    The slow bleeding-out day to day
    Unconcealing our mortal clay

    XI.
    Come we have upon the altar
    Slaughter, bread, psalter
    Cowled priests and bells
    Spells, water, wine, blood

    XII.
    Conjured winged tricksters rise
    Disguised from his unrepentant palette
    Spectres snatching tatters and dregs
    God's self-portrait hued by saudade

    XIII.
    The artist seeks with naked heart
    Not apart but inhabiting the wheat-field
    A scare-crow clothed with scraps
    Of grace and ragged love

    Blessings and obliged.


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  • 11/30/15--19:59: Article 1
  • Snoot and Tehya

    The Eucharist is not a chew-toy: Why My Dogs Are Roman Catholic.
    (#Hegelianmaster-slavedialectics).

    I should have more respect than to eavesdrop on my dog Snoot when he is praying but from what I overhear he may entertain some questionable forms of Eckhartian creation spirituality with universalist overtones but I long ago gave up attempting to challenge Snoot's or anybody else's divergent theological suppositions--Yet when we leave Snoot home alone I put "Nature" shows on the TV for him to watch but perhaps I shouldn't presume that he would enjoy watching wild packs of free roaming timber wolves chasing down fleeing caribou while he lays on soft carpet gnawing a green toothbrush shaped kale and chia-seed stick (and I choke down my vegan bean and sawdust burger) when what we both crave is to tear the throats from of our prey drink their blood howl at the moon and dance naked around a fire swinging fists full of entrails into the air while ripping bites from the raw bloody hearts of the vanquished--

    "Civilization" is the most violent word imaginable especially after it's horrifying apocalyptic phase is accomplished and it has begun to somulate its victims with "Adventure Cruises,""reality TV," and populist mega-churches leading to the false worship of an imaginary Snow White Xmas-card religion celebrating a Disney-Christos born painlessly in a spotless manger surrounded by Bambi, Thumper, and Mrs. Possum, when the actual Bambi was Jewish (written by Felix Salten) and he and the rest of the forest animals were refugees running for their lives from anti-semitic falangist maniacs intent on genetic/religious purity and destroying the forest for their own profit--

    Perhaps that other infant messiah, the brown Palestinian Jesus can help me resist these "civilizing" projects and maybe its this outsider Jesus who barely escaped with his own life once as a baby when CEO's concerned about commodities markets and the bottom-line figured it was more economically efficient to just kill every newborn in the ghetto rather than take a chance on a future hostile corporate take-over--maybe its this alien survivor Jesus that is the one being discussed by the other soon to be slaughtered sheep in their own secret language and who are wondering whether this peculiar 'Messiah' will oppose and confront the slaughter of ALL of the innocents or will he just gorge himself on beers and God-father's pizza while cheering his brain-damaged home-team to another Superbowl victory or if instead he will he become a wild desert coyote prophet messiah who burns like volcanic magma against the empire's principalities and powers while hanging about with tax-collectors, whores, and lepers, exchanging barbs with the daemons he extracts and transplants into the herds of tiny piglets who clog our minds and arteries and who will at the last trump be cast into the lake of Lipitor--

    Our dogs Snoot and Tehya love it when company comes over because they get more attention and food is always getting dropped on the floor so the other day some folks came over and we were  exchanging japes and jibes and watching the romantic comedy "bringing up baby" and peacefully bantering in a cozy little house chuckling at this movie couple's antics who are so obviously in love with each other but are having such a hard time consummating the relationship because of an endless series of mishaps and hijinks--*oh how will they ever get together?*-- there is wine and moldy european cheeses we pretend to enjoy within the parameters of socially administered Jouuisance and all the rules of acceptable interaction are unconsciously being interpolated and obeyed--imagine us as an Althusserian community of yellow-labs who have learned to carry our leashes in our own mouths as our sashaying flaneurs amble about the town without exercising any apparent means of external control over their thralls as exactly on cue we grinning golden-hearted dog/angels wag our bottoms and choke back our repressed rage--

    Kathryn Hepburn reads: "…'he's three years old, gentle as a kitten, and likes dogs.'" She puzzles, "I wonder whether Mark means that he eats dogs or is fond of them?" But our stomachs are full and we're all a bit tipsy/drowsy and our two dogs Snoot and Tehya are laying on their sides like two bloated heifers snoozing oblivious to the dramas---until Snoot lifts his head and begins licking his testicles right there in front of everybody so we'alll just sort of ignore him and swirl and snuffle our shardonay but then Tehya takes an interest in Snoot's private parts as well and gives them a quick sniff but decides that a dropped prosciutto wrapped canapé is more interesting so she lunges for it when this transgressive act of wolf code-breaking expropriation incites some dormant instinct deep inside Snoot's limbic cortex where some tiny amt. of wildness I haven't lobotomized yet with 'atta-boys' or 'bac-o-bites' survives and it awakens in him with such violent fury that he pounces on Tehya like a velociraptor to claim his right of possession and restore the household pack to the established dog-order while we humans are all too shocked to move when this terrific dog-fight breaks out--

    Now Tehya is a Siberian Husky with fine sharp teeth and she is much closer to her Canis lupus ancestors than the Malamute mongrel Snoot is and so she battles tooth and dew-claw for the right to the canapé and in an instant my 9 X 12 carpet is transformed into a battle-field stained with blood, fur, and cured meats as two ferocious beasts attack growl howl and snap at each other--its not a fair fight though, it seldom is, but Snoot is a boy and he's got 20 pounds on Tehya and he eventually bites her so hard that she yelps in pain and surrenders by rolling onto her back and offering her throat and soft belly to her masculine overlord--Snoot cowers over her scanning the room defiantly as if to ask if any of the rest of us wine-swilling domesticated E.D. plagued males wants to question his authority--but the entire incident only lasts maybe 10 seconds and we are all still too shocked by this breach into barbarism to even move but just as I start to rise from my chair to defend my sweet baby girl, Snoot on his own accepts Tehya's surrender allowing her too rise to her feet and then they begin to nuzzle and lick at each other playfully a bit when the next thing you know his ears go half-back and his tail stiffens and now Snoot starts sniffing Tehya's private parts and then just like that he is humping away at her backside even though his testicles are in a dumpster behind the veterinarians office because although he has been "fixed" sometimes phantom urges compel him to just keep going through the motions in a humiliating sacramental parody--

    So when people ask me why I assume that my dog is Roman Catholic I tell them that its because its the church where they hang a half-naked life-like statue of an executed terrorist up on the wall for everyone to witness--its a church where Jesus' wounds and blood haven't all been sanitized and tidied up and the whole filthy mess tossed into the dumpster behind the chapel because in the Catholic church they worship blood and they make more and more of it each time they gather turning water into wine--wine into blood--and then that blood mingles with our blood and other bodily fluids through a miracle of redemptive miscegenation and for just a few moments each week it overflows the gilded grails we keep constructing for it in the blasphemous hope of containing and controlling the power that inheres to sacrificed hemoglobin and as we sing elegiac sagas ministers scurry about attempting to mop-up any of the blood that escapes onto the floor contaminating our shoes so we won't track it out into the parking lot or streets, shops, or homes, but still sometimes you can see those bloody trails drying and fading in the early sunday morning sun or being washed away by rain and tears, after the music changes into a silent whistle and we beasts who have been broken and bred to civilization take our leashes back into our own mouths as we lead ourselves out into the life-like machine world of blood-less grace.

    God bless and obliged.

    p.s. I started writing this at morning Mass recently the day after Tehya died as a sort of a farewell obituary.  We miss and love her.



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  • 12/14/15--08:56: Article 0

  • I am making a book of Black-Birds
    I hope that this photo and poem may be included.

    Jackdaw Fool -- Daniel Imburgia.

    “There is a world elsewhere.” Coriolanus, William Shakespeare.

    It began the day I was born
    When the drugs wore off and
    I first opened my eyes to the
    Light which would come to
    cause me such
    pain.

    I was addicted to amniotic fluid plus
    nicotine, alcohol, and barbiturates
    and a biting satire that would
    cost me friends among
    the snugglers.

    In the darkness god
    was everywhere and
    we had no secrets until
    my parents circumcised me
    after that I began hiding when
    people spoke of
    fathers.

    During catechism they tried to
    blame me for god's murder
    so I confessed weekly to
    being the cause of paradise lost
    and I would punish myself
    accordingly.

    Doctors invent new medicines for
    my condition but still no cure so
    pain-management specialists
    administer the bread and wine
    at sunday communion
    until the market objects.

    The Jackdaw reminds me
    that he is god and
    I should have no other
    the sun is also a jealous deity
    and she makes dire threats
    flooding rivers charge the banks
    demanding my worship
    a newborn fawn dwells
    at the center of her universe, but
    the willow I planted now shades the
    old Japanese pear tree and so
    it no longer bears fruit
    or speaks to me.

    I come to miss that darkness
    I fear less abiding in mystery
    attending to the voices of silence
    speak not of unforgivable sins
    or the promise unkept
    why wait for someone to
    come get us from
    somewhere else

    Obliged.


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  • 01/21/16--21:33: Article 1


  • To A Grieving Poet:

    Forgive us when we say
    There are no words
    Let us mourn together
    Their ultimate failure and
    Make for them bodies to
    Dwell among us
    Incarnations of word-flesh
    Are no going down though
    But a rising
    Into speakable love
    We are told that
    Energy is fungible
    Matter thrums
    Quarks accelerate
    Particles collide, but
    My broken child
    Is all the universe

    That matters

    obliged.

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  • 02/02/16--19:36: Article 0
  • Golden Crowned Kinglet

    Invisible Killer.  Daniel Imburgia.

    I found this beautiful little bird
    Dead on the concrete floor
    It had crashed into a large picture window
    Newly installed and freshly cleaned
    I warmed her in my hand and waited
    While her Spirit decided if she would stay
    I called her *'Lizzie' after Elizabeth Taylor
    Who survived many near-death experiences

    I prayed for Lizzie but nothing too specific
    I wanted to allow space for her and the
    God of birds to consider all voices
    See the big picture so to speak
    Reflect upon future aeons
    Who am I to say who lives and dies?

    "Golden Crowned Kinglets
    Are an exceedingly tame bird,
    Often entering human habitations and
    Allowing themselves to be picked up or stroked."
    (Audabon Field Guide To Birds)

    For a hundred thousand years at least
    Tiny Kinglets have been flying above these cliffs
    Migrating up and down the west-coast
    Over glaciers a mile thick and arid desserts
    Evading terrible storms and hungry predators
    Until men (sic) erected
    Stupendous windows on this bluff

    In human words the Kinglet's songs when
    Flocking and mating translate as a
    Very high jingling--'tsii tsii tsii' followed by a
    Thin sibilant 'Tsieeee' that chatters toward the end;
    'Tsii tsii tsii tsii tiii djit djit djit djit'

    Each song has a purpose just as
    The window on the bluff has a purpose
    As some believe that "Nature has a purpose"
    Or as one might speak of a being
    Reckoned by what it chooses to see
    And what not to

    Obliged.


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  • 02/18/16--22:07: Article 0


  • 'Consider the ravens: They do not sow or reap, they have no storeroom or barn; yet God feeds them all.' Jesus son of Joseph.

    Book Report on, *The Raven's Gift.*

    An old guy Jon Turk kayaks to Siberia and meets 96 yr old indigenous Koryak holy-woman Moolynaut who asked Kutcha Raven-god to heal Jon's pelvis shattered in an avalanche--and so he was healed. Koryak life was lived among Raven Reindeer Salmon Mink Wolf Rabbit Bear River Fox Ice Tree Ocean-Being for thousands of years until the czar's soldiers and priests came from the west and took most of the Reindeer and Furs every year and the czar's priests called them savages and devils so some of the Koryak began wearing brassiere and drinking vodka but other Koryak moved farther into the Wilderness to preserve their lives and culture. years later stalin's soldiers came and took away the czar's priests but also the rest of the Reindeer and furs and proclaimed that all Koryak were now comrade-citizens of the great soviet socialist republic!  so the Koryak had no more Reindeer and their life was violently shattered and the Koryak went hungry or were forced to work in factories and many killed themselves or died from rotten livers. but some few remained on the Tundra and meagerly survived hunting Rabbits and fishing Salmon.  but then again officials from moscow arrived but now they were capitalist and they announced that all the Koryak were now subjects/citizens of a democratic republic, and they possessed many papers (and weapons) proving that all the Salmon and furs were now fungible commodities entirely owned by rich overlords in giant cities thousands of kilometers to the west and then factories invaded on boats tracks planes and they took all the Salmon Fox Mink and cut down Trees so the Koryak could not hunt or fish or breathe. the capitalists priests returned also and preached to the Koryak that their Raven-god was a devil and must be destroyed and since the western men were great destroyers, the few survivors now pray inside wood boxes with colorful pictures of a strange god on the walls.  but it was the men from the west who had killed their own god not the Koryak so they ask why should the Koryak be made to suffer? Moolynaut is the last Holy-woman of the Koryak and she worries that no one will follow her in the way of the Tundra and Kutcha the Raven-god.  there was one other holy-woman even older than Moolynaut from the area of Magadan but 2 years earlier she knew she would soon die so when she could find no young woman willing to learn her wisdom she embraced the sacred Tree and prayed, 'my power came form Kutcha Raven-god and now i return it.' then the Tree exploded as if struck by Lightening and she and the Tree fell shattered and dead among the smoldering splinters and so her power returned to her creator.  I fear when Moolynaut dies something immensely good, holy, and life-channeling will be lost from this world; not like when the dinosaurs went extinct or a tsunami kills thousands, we may grieve through the loss caused by an ocean storm and still come to dwell in a greater wholeness, but how to we come to abide the transformation of the whole Earth into a murder/suicide crime scene?

    “Every creature is a word of God.”  Meister Eckhart

    Moolynaut

    Reindeer was god
    Snow was god
    Trees were god
    Light was god
    Wolf was god
    Rabbit was god
    Sea was god
    Children were god
    Tundra was god
    Grass was god
    Bear was god
    Ice was god
    Fire was god
    River was god
    Salmon was god
    Raven was god
    God was love

    men from the west came bearing a new god--

    many of the people were killed
    reindeer were exterminated
    snow stopped falling
    forests cut down
    sun went dark
    wolf was trapped-out
    Rabbit sickened and died
    Mothers feared to have babies
    Fathers died of shame
    Sea went sterile
    Tundra was desolated
    Grass withered
    Bear fled north
    Ice melted away
    Fires went cold
    Rivers were damed shut
    Salmon suffocated
    Earth was punctured
    Death was God

    List of some of the tribes of the northwest coast of usamerica where I live:

    Tlingit
    Nisga's
    Bella Coola
    Nuu-chah-nulth
    Haida
    Tsimshian
    Gitxsan
    Kwakiuts
    Haisla
    Makah
    Heitsuk
    Nuxalk
    Salish
    Quileute
    Chimakum
    Nootka
    Nisqualli
    S'Klallam
    Wilapa
    Chinook
    Makah
    Tilamook
    Wuikinuxv
    Shuswap
    Nuxalk
    Haisla
    Quinalt
    Kwakwaka'wakw

    "Jesus told his followers a parable: The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed planted in a field.  It is a small seed yet it grows into a great tree and becomes a home for all the birds who come to shelter in its branches." Matthew 13:31-32.

    Obliged.


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  • 03/01/16--21:33: Article 0


  • Partheno-Genesis/Daniel-Imburgia

    I watched a baby
    Rocking on African hips
    Absorbing the cadence of life
    And wondered
    If we all had mothers
    Who pounded cassava root
    And danced with us on their hips
    Maybe we could have survived

    The Orchid-Mantis is the brightest
    Predator in the rain forest
    Wielding its brilliance to attract victims
    It hunts for promiscuous bees
    Among pure white blossoms the
    Flowers evolving into silent accomplices
    To this erotic butchery even though
    Cutting their own throats

    The ancient Greeks wrote:
    Our bodies return to Earth
    Our blood returns to sea-water
    Our soul returns to fire
    Our breath returns to air
    This seems so obvious
    Who would take time to
    Write it down?

    Tsupuuu is the Quechua word
    For the sound that a wounded pig makes
    When it tumbles into fast-running water
    There is no equivalent word in english
    If he ever saw a wounded pig fall into a river
    Wittgenstein wisely kept silent about it

    The Talmud teaches that four men entered the Garden
    Ben Azzai, Ben Zoma, Ben Acher, and Ben Akiba
    Ben Azzai beheld the garden and perished;
    Ben Zoma walked in the garden and went mad;
    Ben Acher became enraged and destroyed the garden;
    Ben Akiba entered the Garden in peace and left in peace

    My newest gadget has
    Ten thousand bird songs
    Mating calls, pictures, stats, even
    Sounds of many birds already extinct
    Sometimes when deep in the forest
    I play out-loud their forgotten songs and
    Even the Ravens fall silent
    For my weeping

    The anchorite is mostly blind and rarely speaks
    Sometimes trekking virtual pathways
    The old one traces the keening of
    Desolate machinery seeking help-meets and
    Mourning the triumph of binary intercourse
    It was the evening of the eight day
    And one of their last creations had
    Already gone missing


    Video is from the documentary film, "Ghost Bird." Much obliged.


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  • 04/10/16--20:50: Article 0


  • There’s been so many bible based shows coming out recently who needs church? In the last episode of the show “Of Kings and Prophets” the prophet Samuel, King Saul, and Queen Ahinoam, argued over whether to massacre the Amalakites before or after attacking the Philistines. Samuel insisted that commandos whack the pacified Amalakites first but King Saul thought that would be a bad P.R. move and would slow down expansion of the Eastern Empire. Then Queen Ahinoam who knew how to influence dick-headed men attempted to use her pheromones to thwart God’s genocidal plan by seducing Saul and posting a bunch of crap about Samuel on Facebook. Saul was still afraid of God’s wrath though but he also wanted to cuddle with Ahinoam, so when God ordered Saul to un-friend Ahinoam Saul refused—and un-friended Samuel instead! Samuel who had been repressing a bit of a thing for Queen Ahinoam himself retaliated by making fun of Saul’s penis and posting dozens of insulting memes on Saul’s timeline via David’s FB acct. (this move will have regicidal implications in the future I suspect). Then Saul whose pride was engorged by his own blood-thirsty desires did the un-thinkable and un-friended God!!!      Then there was a great pause in heaven..….And God got really pissed and cursed the internet and hid it in a cave in Egypt for 3000 years until Indiana Jones and Chewbacca rescued it from Kylo Ren. The show got canceled after just 2 episodes so I guess I’ll be back to church next Sunday :(



    We are thinking about watching "Risen" next:

    "(Rated PG-13 for Biblical violence including some disturbing images).  “Risen” Follows the epic Biblical story of the Resurrection, as told through the eyes of Clavius, tasked with solving the mystery of what happened to Yahshua following the crucifixion to disprove the rumors of a risen Messiah and prevent an uprising in Jerusalem. Written by Sony Pictures.”

    “Plot Keywords: crucifixion—judea-- resurrection--bare chested male bondage--See All (20).”

    Couple of things. “Written by Sony Pictures.” A thousand years from now will the canonicity of the collected works of Apostle, *Sony Pictures,* be debated at the 3016 Academy of Religion convention held on Pandora?

    Keywords: “Bare chested male bondage.” (This is why we need the Catholic Legion of Decency censoring our films again—go Santorum!).

    And Is there a separate category now for “biblical violence?” How does BV differ from other violence? If you graphically mutilate and murder someone’s child does it drop from a NC-17 to a PG rating because the victim is a character from the bible? No matter how much sensitivity you used crucifying a chihuahua you would still never get a PG-13 rating.

    Obliged.


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  • 05/31/16--19:58: Article 0





  • Photos of my dog Snoot before and after I forget to give him the last bite from my table.

    “The woman knelt before Jesus and cried out, “Lord, help me!” But Jesus asked, “Is it right to take the children’s bread and give it to the dogs?” “Yes, Lord,” she said, “even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their master’s table.” Mathew 15: v. 25 (Babylonian Talmud: Tractate Baba Bathra 8a.)  h/t Craig Keen

    Of Kissing: An Evolutionary Paleo-Ontology With a Key to the Scriptures.

    My dog is 100 years old
    I wonder who’s master
    How many nights
    Could he have killed me in my sleep
    Yet chose not to

    Our deal is
    He gets my last bite
    I get to eat without pestering
    Except for his Jesus on the cross eyes

    The Talmud cautions
    Sin not against dog
    Against our life—world
    These are the only unforgivable
    Second bites at the apple

    Reneging on the deal
    Biting the cosmos that feeds you
    Forgetting which tree is which
    Consolidating etymologies until
    Word don’t mean shit

    We watch television together
    Two broken-down voyeurs
    Flickering eyes track fleet wolves
    Running to ground an old Caribou
    The exhausted bull ran his heart out
    Until his legs and lungs surrendered

    Respecting the food chain
    The Alpha-wolf eats first
    Starting with the bleeding-heart
    Then the warm liver and soft guts

    The congregation circles waiting
    For the *Liturgy of Addai and Mari*
    Take this spleen, this tongue, this haunch
    This is my body
    Given up for you

    The weakest member gets the last bite
    This is the way of the wolf—pack
    Before money markets or mercy
    We licked fresh blood from each others lips
    And over aeons
    Found love

    (From *The Book of Lost Kisses* By Daniel Imburgia).
    Obliged.

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  • 06/21/16--08:59: Article 1

  • “The Triumph of the Church over Fury, Discord, and Hatred.”
    (By Peter Paul Rubens. c.1625)

    There are 783,137 words in the King James Bible
    (And 783,138 spaces)
    One day Barabbas bumped into Lazarus in Jerusalem
    They drank wine and spoke of old times
    Neither mentioned the elephant in the room
    Bartholomew died soon after
    Sadly of ‘natural causes’
    James son of Zebedee finally came out of the closet
    Of course the Rabboni knew even before JZ did
    Mary Magdalena lives alone in a cave
    Ministering to sick pilgrims who come looking
    No one sees Thaddeus much anymore
    He travels Italia mongering miracles from knock-off Mandylions
    Judas took off with the stash but he keeps on
    Financing doomed revolutions with profits from his brothels
    Pontus Pilate retired to Corinth to remodel his compound
    I think theres a cable show about it
    Peter keeps insisting on circumcising eunuchs
    And embracing socialism
    One fundamentalist who got healed took up his bed to follow
    But he won’t put it down again until Jesus comes back
    At some point people started calling “Jews,” “THE” Jews
    Saint Paul never burned his Roman passport
    Simon (called “The Zealot”) decided after all to just
    ’Change the system from the inside’
    The ‘Gadarene Swine’ became a chain of Paleo-cafes
    Saint Junia was an apostle of indeterminate gender
    (we don’t know where (s)he peed)
    Two Popes disappeared without a trace
    Christian Crucifixes are all made by tiny Chinese communists now
    Simon Magus wasn’t first to capitalize on the zeitgeist
    Zwingli starved the Roman Catholic Swiss cantons in retaliation
    Hussites defenestrated Prague’s schismatics
    From the Cathedral of the Virgin Mary of the Snows
    I received holy communion there in 1992 but
    The Carmelite nuns had already fled in terror
    When toads in Hamburg began exploding in the summer of 1486
    Fearful church elders blamed ‘The Jews,’ and burned them publicly
    As is common practice in europe during any calamity*
    A chariot imported from Egypt cost 600 silver shekels ($77,000)
    One shekel was a weeks’s wages (1 Kings 10:29)
    ‘Pele-joez-el-gibbor-abi-ad-sar-shalom,’ is the longest name in the bible
    It holds place for the passing shadow of the nameless un-god
    The devil tested Jesus with absolute everything, but
    After fasting 40 days in the desert Jesus returned with open hands
    For a short time whores, lepers, poor people, strangers, queer folk
    Were all loved
    But that part of the story was lost and forgotten
    Predictably, the ‘Seven Demons’ have returned with friends

    obliged, daniel imburgia


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  • 07/13/16--18:45: Article 0



  • on render

    when asked to name
    whose likeness was on her coin
    the saint had only smooth stones
    in her pocket


    obliged

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  • 08/21/16--08:34: Article 1



  • who among us would risk proclaiming
    how beautiful the stones
    how marvelous the flowers
    how graceful the mountain
    how alive the animal
    amongst so much darkness and ruin


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  • 08/30/16--20:24: Article 0


  • the seventh kiss (zoopoetics X theopoetics rev.)

    “when Jesus rose early on the first day
    he appeared first to Mary Magdalena
    out of whom he had cast seven devils.” mark 16-9

    i wept
    at all three tombs for mary magdalena
    jerusalem
    constantinople
    aix-le-provence
    wept like a lost child
    tradition records that
    magdalena
    with martha and lazarus
    were set adrift by other-believers
    in a small boat
    without oars or sails
    so their heads pop up everywhere
    but they may still be out there
    tracing the scent of spikenard
    waiting for us to abandon our life-boats
    listen
    spirit murmurs among vernacular winds
    babies babble angel-speak and
    the fresh songs of the dying
    are sung into other worlds

    of the bodies membrum
    martha tidies the boat
    lazarus pumps the bilge
    Magdalena stands night-watch on the bow
    remembering
    she faces the waves
    tempted to close her eyes and
    journey home on foot

    when swells break over the bow
    her tears greet their briny fingers
    warm seas embrace her body
    cosset her breasts
    wind presses hard between
    her shearing thighs

    magdalena
    recalls every kiss written in the gospel
    five were kisses of betrayal
    one kiss was pure devotion
    but of the seventh kiss
    nothing was written
    (for every mary
    who made love with god
    and lived,
    and for Uzzah
    who was killed for much less).

    obliged, daniel imburgia

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  • 10/17/16--17:26: Article 0


  •  Zoopoetics X Theopoetics #5 

    What If Derrida Was Right?

    ‘—I must make it clear from the start that
    the dog I am talking about is a real dog
    believe me, It isn’t merely the figure of a dog’
    “The Animal That Therefore I am.”
     
    What if Derrida was right
    About all of it
    What then

    Jesus taught:
    If any will follow
    Let them deconstruct
    Take up their cross
    And follow, but

    Its assumed “cross” is a synecdoche
    Or metaphor whatever
    Like when I say how much I *heart* my dog
    “One of my family,” I claim
    Thing is
    If the house were on fire
    And I could only rescue the child or the dog
    I’d save the child

    I discussed this with my dog
    Dog said I was full of shit
    My theology was anthropocentric
    That I didn’t know what love was
    —’Is all life sacred in god?’  Dog asked.

    — ‘GOD!’
    I challenged (playing devil’s advocate)
    — ‘Which god is dog god?’
    Dog (the animal that therefore he is) replied:
    — ’is god all as one?’
    I started to reach for my bible to proof-text
    Hierarchies of creation and Patriarchal orders of obeisance
    But just then my wife yelled down:
    — ’You say something hon…?’
       — ’No dear…its just the dog…’
           — ‘Is he ok,’ she asked, ‘he sounds funny?’
    I glare over at my smug Theravādanic mutt
    — ‘I think somethings wrong with him,’ I yell back
       — ‘He may be going senile, he thinks he’s god’
    — ‘Whaaat? Who thinks he’s god?’
       — ‘The DOG dammit he says he’s GOD!’
    Dog said: — “I, god?”

    Please love your dog with all your heart and soul
    (but don’t let them get too fat)
    Apologize to them every day
    Because of their great compassion
    They bear this immense burden for us
    Our last connexion to the non-machine world
    We’ve made enemies of all others
    Dog carries this cross for us, and
    They’re not the first creatures
    Nor this the last cross
    The whole world may be crucified

    There are true believers
    Who burn others
    For speaking a participle of dogma otherwise
    I don’t know how they would punish my Jesuit pooch
    But my dog
    Would run into a burning building to save my life
    And so did god

    (Daniel Imburgia is an un-aspiring poet living on Whidbey Island. A writing teacher once called him a ‘sloppy angst riddled sentimentally Roman Catholic overly didactic existentialist,’ causing Daniel to cry, take up smoking french cigarettes, and begin wearing a beret to hide his baldness. like that little Jewish boy who grew up in Algeria de-ciphering the Talmud, Daniel learned young that words burn—words are power). Shalom.      


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  • 11/05/16--17:54: Article 1



  • No Country For This Old Man.

    Facebook reminded me of this post from the election 4 years ago. This scene at the end of the movie/novel NCFOM provoked me and many to question again human freedom/agency and where god can be found in this broken death-dealing world.  Earlier in the novel McCarthy writes: “…Anything can be an instrument, small things. Things you wouldn't even notice. They pass from hand to hand. People don't pay attention. And then one day there's an accounting.  An after that nothing is the same. Well, you say. Its just a coin. For instance. Nothing special there. What could that be an instrument of? You see the problem. To separate the act from the thing. As if the parts of some moment in history might be interchangeable with the parts of some other moment. How could that be? Well, its just a coin. Yes. That's true. Is it?” (No Country p. 57).

    But even though our coins have two sides and we label those sides various things like kick-off and receive, good and evil, life and death, it so often feels like I'm still just choosing between 2 different appearances of evil? When Jesus asked Jewish collaborators with the Roman empire to show him their coins, Caesar’s likeness may have only been on one side, but perhaps one of Jesus’ message was that the empire/death owned the whole coin no matter which side of it I choose? Bless you Carla Jean for your courage and wisdom.

    (p.s. Death and coins ‘get here’ the same way as Caesar but there are other forms of Trinitarian life one may seek. Blessings.


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  • 11/14/16--09:24: Article 0


  • Dear Overlords. Merry Christmas! Once again all things have proceeded precisely as you have foreseen. In recognition of your recent victories and in a spirit of bi-partisan compromise I am offering your Trumpocalypse a fair chance of implementation to further facilitate the darkening of the world. In the first of many concessions I am offering to surrender my objections and authorize *God* to be allowed back into all public schools!  However, as per God’s usual practice God will remain quiet and invisible at God’s choosing. Students of course will now be allowed to pray ceaselessly as Jesus says, but also silently as he commands. God’s presence, though, will remain exempt from attendance at any private religious schools or christian-churches as is God’s custom.

    *Note. This compromise does not entitle Trumpublicans to enlist their God in the following activities:
      
    1. Any and all wars/police-actions/vigilantiism especially engaged in for the purposes of colonizing petroleum reserves and pipelines—foreign and domestic.

    2. The Deportation/persecution of undocumented children and persecuted refugees back to whatever dangerous hell-hole usamerican policies/actions probably created for them in their homelands they are fleeing from (see 1. above ^^^). 

    3. Denying/cutting health care services for the oldest, poorest, sickest, weakest, people among us (no need to stipulate God’s presence among these folks though, God is always among the least of these). So if you want to cut Jesus’s medicare Trumpublicans don’t expect God to whisper lottery numbers in your ears or smite the Pandoran Na’vi or their socialist puppet-masters for you.

    4. No grafting of a human penis back onto God. We got this < > close to theologically excising that pesky thing once and for all, and no president, no matter how flacid, aught to attempt a re-erection. 

    5. God will not empower/sanction any domination, exploitation, persecution by *WHITE* over any and all of the following:

    a. BlackBrownoranyPeopleofanyColor.
    b. AllOtheredQueerandTrans-persons.
    c. Women.
    d. Forests-OceansAllWildplacesunderoronthePlanetorintheSky.
    e. Earth.
    f. + Mars. (‘an ounce of prevention…. ‘ Let’s not let *WHITE* get a toehold anywhere else in the galaxy). 

    *Note: by ‘WHITE’ I am not referring to color but rather to the modern ontological manifestation of *WHITE* understood as that signified entity which functions as the dominant death-dealing viral agency which seeks to control or destroy all flourishings of Being and wholeness throughout the cosmos—no offense to anybody).  

    **Note to Overlords compiling warrants for removal of potential troublemakers to alt-Reich Evangelical re-educaton/extermination camps: the “Daniel Imburgia” tagged here is not ‘THE’ Daniel Imburgia you are looking for (although they are both *WHITE* so both are probably going to be ok as long as they keep their mouths shut). Really this Daniel was only in El Salvador in the 1980’s for the surfing and chicharrones, not to stir up revolution among the peasants against their usamerican backed death-squads. Nor am I responsible for how others interpret any of the crazy things I may have said after too many shots of  tequilas. In any event anything I ever wrote to anyone anywhere at any time has always been taken out of context or misinterpreted. And further, contrary to any (scant) evidence, I have lived most of my life in acceptable compliance and within the logics of exploitative commodity capitalism  :(  

    Dear Overlords, do we have a deal?

    Thank you for your consideration, your humbled and all too obedient servant, Daniel :(   

    P.s. Are we really going to squeeze more blood from the poor in order to build yet a fourth *Death-Star?* Sure it creates jobs and stimulates the 1% economy but we gave the last three contracts to that “builder” from Queens and every one of the damn things had some fatal flaw and got itself blown up! How about an intergalactic hospital and recovery Star full of doctors, food, and puppies that travels about the cosmos healing and feeding people and patching up old planets that need repair after evicted tenants left the place trashed. Or maybe we could spend more money on…just a minute someone’s at the door……….


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  • 12/15/16--12:31: Article 0


  • I have been posting through Brother Christophe’s surviving journal from Tibhirine in one of my old Facebook posts and todays entry has has dwelled in my mind since first reading it months ago.

    10/23/1993. The 23rd. from Brother Christophe.

    I warn you: I am
    going through you I go before you and
    I breathe into you the Way
    and oblige you in truth.
    I baptize you with myself on the cross
    go
    take my I love you
    be me

    Many of my recent media feeds attend to the terrible death and destruction in Aleppo Syria. I remember when Algerians were suffering in a similar way in the 90’s. Around the time of the massacre of the Monks of Tibihirine we were visiting France and there was great consternation in Paris about how to deal with this new phenomenon of 'islamic terrorism’ and the murder of innocents in France’s former colonies. Many called for renewed military involvement and air strikes. Anti-Muslim persecution and demonstrations were becoming more common. I sense now that even among my Christian friends there is frustration and despair and perhaps an acceptance or desire for some overwhelming violent force to stop these calamities in Aleppo and elsewhere. I suppose we might want to believe that this imaginary force could be both perfectly just, totally compassionate, and absolutely discriminate, and that only evildoers will be killed and all innocents will be spared.    That is a false hope.

    I warn you: I am
    going through you I go before you and
    I breathe into you the Way
    and oblige you in truth.
    I baptize you with myself on the cross
    go
    take my I love you
    be me

    Its important to remember that its possible that the 7 Tibihrine monks were actually killed by Algerian soldiers fighting the monks captors. There is evidence that Christophe was killed during an Algerian Govt. helicopter strike on the rebel’s camp and that the survivors beheaded the monks afterward for propaganda purposes. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what the suffering people of Aleppo should do. I don’t trust the Russians, Syrians, the rebels, Turkey, Israel, or my own government. I say desperate prayers and Catholic relief services and others are doing good work among the refugees and need financial support, but its easy to fall victim to frustration and despair even/especially in the midst of our own relative security and well being. Today’s entry by Christophe is one of my favorites although I don’t understand it in any deep way. But those words “I breathe into you the Way,” have stuck with me the last few months and have been helpful during my own struggles so I made of them a short prayer for Aleppo as well as for my friends in need.

    *May the god of love and peace breathe into us the Way*

    I sometimes can imagine god responding to my call using parts of Christophe’s prayer:

    I am
    I breathe into you the Way
    I oblige you in truth
    I love you
    be me
    go

    Shalom.


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  • 01/17/17--19:17: Article 0


  • I'm trying out a new writing style: Action Sci-Fi & Fantasy in Space.


    “Imagine the amazing good fortune of the generation that gets to see the end of the world,
    This is as marvelous as being there in the beginning.” Jean Baudrillard.

    *Deep Space 9 1/2 weeks.*

    Scene: Chief of Security charges into the command bridge shouting excitedly:
     
       “Captain somehow a chimpanzee has escaped the science lab.”
         “Look out!” shouts the First Officer, “he’s gotten ahold of a loaded pistol!”
           “Who brings a gun into space,” asks the Weapons Officer alarmed,
             “One shot would pierce the hull and doom us all to a hideous death.”

    Right then the chimp took off his space-diaper and started peeing all over the captain’s chair.
     
       “Ha ha, at least nobody’s bored anymore.” Joked the Second Officer
          “Especially after so much hyper-sleep,” added the Ensign.
                 
     “Can’t we all just agree to get along?” The Star-Navigator pleaded.
          “Living in a space ship is really dull and this chimp is entertaining.”
            “Even funny sometimes.” Crew person #2
              “When he’s not masturbating.” Crew person #3
                 “Or pointing his gun at us.” Crew person #2

       “Who knows,” The ships chaplain prayerfully offered
          “Maybe its God’s will that the chimp got this gun?”

       “Yes.” Nodded the first-mate, “and we’d all be safer if everyone on board had guns too.”

        “Maybe we should just make the chimp captain,” added the second-mate laughing.
         “That would teach those snobby suits back at corporate a lesson.”

    Many of the crew nodded their heads in agreement and smiled at the chimp with approval;

       “Thats madness,” the Science Officer argued through clenched teeth.
     
       “Let’s take a vote,” suggested the Second-Officer.
         


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  • 02/18/17--00:26: Article 0

  • Already

    Already
    By age 2 we were artists;
    Poets by 3
    At 4 we discovered un-seen worlds
    Turning 5 we could fly 
    But 6 meant school, rulers, visibility, work, mirror-gaze;
    Leaving our wings behind us

    Late afternoon
    Soon children will be home from class
    Each day small parts of them disappear
    Multiply and divide into others
    Even as they grow into bigness
    We shall not come to know love by the pound
    But by the mile


    Love from grandpapa kids





    3>

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  • 04/22/17--17:43: Article 0
  • Langley harbor, Whidbey Island. 2016


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  • 05/28/17--08:58: Article 0



  •  “If they drive God from the earth, we shall shelter Him underground.” Mitya to Aloysha.  Book XI.




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  • 06/28/17--08:06: Article 0
  • Judith Beheads Holofernes. Artemisia Gentileschi. c,1638.

    *Biblical story—Possible Trigger Warnings.

    “Judith Beheads Holofernes.”
    From the Book of Judith: Ch.16, Vs. 2-11.

    The proud king bragged
    Borders would be set on fire
    All disloyalty would be punished
    He would make prey of infants
    Take virgins captive

    But YHWH struck him down
    Not by the strength of men
    Nor by the proud sons of Titan
    Nor by tall giants
    But by courage and beauty

    Judith’s vanquishing face
    Anointed with sweet oils
    Locks adorned as a crown
    Sandals dazzling like precious gems
    Robes of golden deception
    Her beauty took his heart captive

    And with a sword she cut off his head.

    *(Artists have made many depictions of this biblical scene but I admire this 1638 version by Artemisia Gentileschi most. That’s her holding the sword. Understandably many have been quick to read into this shocking picture a visual response to her oppression by her father, her rape by her art teacher, and her subsequent torture by authorities during her rape trial).


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  • 09/08/15--19:21: Article 24
  • Over Whidbey Island towards Mt. Tahoma.

    Got to do some cloud watching.  I thought I saw Pak-Man gobbling the sun, some others saw an elephant or polar bear upper right; but someone else saw that rock monster from The Hobbit decomposing below the sun.  A bit of an argument broke out….I'm not sure how to tell who won or lost?  Maybe its like Grace?

    Czeslaw Milosz wrote that, "When someone is honestly 55% right, that’s very good and there’s no use wrangling. And if someone is 60% right, it’s wonderful, it’s great luck, and let him thank God. But what’s to be said about 75% right? Wise people say this is suspicious. Well, and what about 100% right? Whoever say he’s 100% right is a fanatic, a thug, and the worst kind of rascal.’  (An old Jew of Galicia, from "The Captive Mind").  Obliged, Grace, and Blessings.