East Lansing, May 2003
If I really loved Jesus I would surely not be here in the sunshine.I'd be trying to love the poets now reading in a room without me.If I really, really loved I would not even think what I think,and it would go easier. Because my neighbors' dogs barkat dawn for sheer joy. Because like them I have known joy.I have matched and folded the family socks, survived historyso far, seen my small desires satisfied. Did I come all this wayto sit on a bench? Did the ragged goose feather once have a home?It's too hot to sit long in the sun. Can we, can we, can we, the girlasks her mother, and her brother hitches his pants and runs fastas he can down the wrong path. His sister calls and he runs back,sniffs a yellow tulip. Oh do what you want says her motherand the new weeds, and the cardinal says I will do what I can.
Gary Dorrien on Occupy Wall Street, Benjamin J. Dueholm on the post-Wobegon upper Midwest, James F. McGrath on Jesus mythicism.
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