The makers of Hellboy II: The Golden Army must have had the time of their lives. The director, Guillermo del Toro, and his team of set, costume and special-effects designers provide a cornucopia of visual splendors.
Maggie, her grandparents’ dog, can’t come with us to the zoo, we say she’s not feeling well and try to leave it at that, bring up tigers and polar bears, offer Twizzlers and juice, but all she wants is the dog, asks if we gave her medicine, when will she come back so we can fix her with a screwdriver, today’s new word, so many new sounds, so much new these days we can’t keep track of all the people and places she knows, and the names of things, reminding us we cannot save her from the word, or save ourselves from having to explain what dead means, as if we’ve waded through all we were taught and emerged on one side or the other, unable to dismiss or believe there’s one true voice that could reveal a pattern we’ve never picked up on in the sunlight and trees, some force behind why that could lead us beyond our parents’ loving euphemisms, beyond we simply don’t know.
One took the colony by the heels, slapping its flank until it issued a broad cry of rage. Tall and forbidding, she waxed both sharp and sweet, flying in the angry face of magistrates, chafing the tender hearts of the unregenerate gently with her tireless voice. She coaxed as women labored in their cramped beds of pain.
The other fashioned quills and parsed her poems in clean white sheets. Still, her clumsy child shamed her, walking on stumbling feet, as real a “monstrous birth” as the first Anne’s tissue of stubborn clots. What was it she tried to say, poet in a wife’s starched linen, submitting to her tasks and thanking God without conviction for each bitter loss? Sarah, Hagar in exile, she too never went back; the stormy Atlantic roiled, keeping her margins, her heart rising within her and rising, rising again.
On the back of the MBTA bus An ad for Devil Dogs complete With photos of “vanilla-flavored Crème sandwiched between two Fun-shaped Devil’s Food cakes” Exclaims “Yes please!” urging us To “listen to our cravings” which is To say consume whatever we imagine Might fill the hungry ghost of fear That dwells in each of us living In this land of plenty where more is Never quite enough: but what if Craving became longing for something Of another order, and what if we instead Said “Yes” to prisoners, lepers, refugees, And what if we might someday learn To let this moment be enough, This naked twig, this autumn sky, This bird in flight, this drifting leaf.
Bill Haslam, Republican governor of Tennessee, recently vetoed a bill that would have made the Bible the official state book. Haslam is a Christian who says his favorite authors are the popular Christian writers Philip Yancey and Eugene Peterson. The governor said the nation’s founders “recognized that when the church and state were combined, it was the church that suffered in the long run.” Treating the Bible as a cultural artifact trivializes it, he argued. The two Republican sponsors of the bill said they would try to override the veto, which can be done with a mere majority of votes in the two chambers of the state legislature (Los Angeles Times, April 17).