The Haunted Heaven: Chapter Forty Seven: The Spring Reveries of 2012
By Michael Moriarty
The rock of my editorializing life has, without question, been Steve Martinovich's Enter Stage Right! He and his publication came before everyone else and with his help and ESR I survived a few rocky experiences in other venues.
For the most part, I don't like being edited. It is sometimes worse than being rejected. A better layout, however –placement of pictures, etc. – and visual improvements to my offerings are always welcome.
I'm back to poetry. The iambic hexameter of my younger days has fallen away to blank verse.
No. I won't bore you with it yet.
Spring is exploding in the lower mainland of British Columbia. We've rejoiced dizzily in the Cherry Blossoms, then the Magnolias and now a longer-lived, pink madness that has no name but erupts everywhere!
My darling Irene has covered our little porch with flowers: pink, salmon, white and yellow, purple, red … all leaping out of their leafy dressing!! The pots and stands they're placed in are rather like an editor's layout: lifting them up to make them all that much more exciting.
We're on the 11th floor of a high rise that shoots up ten more levels and looks out on an inlet. Foothills and mountains beyond them, ski trails fading in the growing warmth of an April light, the ever-changing sky hovering over it all … until the sun plays games with its own, divinely dying exit.
One night the colors from the setting sun had us both in tears of joy.
I sometimes like to shrink in awe before it all. Curled in my armchair like a 3 year old child.
Then, of course, there's the print from an article on the Vincent Van Gogh exhibition in Philadelphia.
I've been so blessed.
When I consider the isolation, loneliness and general neglect that Van Gogh lived in for most of his life … yet his utter defenselessness before the beauty of the earth! As if each flower and plant could cut ecstasies out of his soul and leave him twice as lonely and bereft as he had been, standing before an empty canvas.
My life so ultimately cared for and his … so tortured.
He's not dead, though, is he? Lives forever now … more cherished with each passing year!
Our Lord lives even more vibrantly out of His agony on the Cross.
Is it lunacy?
Or the admission price to Eternity?
Don't have to know. Won't even pretend to know.
Art naïf and Michael's gratitude: not all that different.
My office, looking out onto the porch, with our new clock ticking away, hailing the passing hours in bird calls … yes!
No, I haven't yet learned either the bird calls or the bird names … but … I want to. The sounds become more lifelike with each passing day.
Meanwhile technology hangs off my small computer desk like jungle vines! Earphones and connecting wires leading to my printer, while my electric keyboard sports its own hanging connections.
The Oxbow Incident comes to mind …
… and then, of course, America's hanging connection with her very own babies!
A judge and jury without justice.
Mad as Van Gogh!
Oh, well … whether it's one man or a woman with ten men … we're worse than the animals that roam The Undergrowth.
Will such human insanity ever end?
Not if we keep dressing abortion up with Harvard degrees and an Oval Office to promote it from.
It's still an ultimate suicide.
Either way, the US can either seal her doom with Obama's reelection or begin to crawl out of hell with Mitt Romney.
It's really that simple.
Course, I'm an art naïf!
I didn't go to Harvard. I'd ponder the Orozco murals in the basement of Dartmouth's Baker Library.
When will it all end?
Not in the halls of higher learning!
Michael Moriarty is a Golden Globe and Emmy Award-winning actor who starred in the landmark television series Law and Order from 1990 to 1994. His recent film and TV credits include The Yellow Wallpaper, 12 Hours to Live, Santa Baby and Deadly Skies. Contact Michael at email@example.com.