I don’t write in a journal everyday, but I have accumulated many entries over the past 50+ years beginning in 1966. Some items evolved into longer works. Among the leftovers little pieces survived. I thought a collection of these with a piece culled from the same date in a past year would make an interesting yearbook. The consistencies and inconsistencies of mind, skipping back and forth across time, provide varied perspectives. It is difficult to remember the context of the past we’ve lived; we also make suppositions about times that predate ourselves.

The few alterations from original drafts were to improve clarity. The worst of my work is not included. There remains enough mediocrity and immaturity to make me feel humble and you feel smart. There are also moments of accidental insight and incidental humor.

Author Stephen Crane referred to his little pieces as pills…apparently they were small and somewhat hard to swallow, but good for you.


Comments Welcome!

Thursday, April 30, 2020

THE JAILS


April 30, 2011  (I was 66)

THE JAILS     An Adaptation of E. A. Poe, The Bells
                      (Hear me read both at JohnKallio.com  Go to: Audio)
            I
Hear the hinges in the jails -
County jails!
What a night of mischief their whining unveils!
How they grate and rasp and scrape
In the icy air of night
While the pimps that over-sprinkle
All the streets seem to twinkle
With a crystalline delight.
Doing time, time, time
For a sort of Runic crime,
To the din incarceration inevitably wails
From the jails, jails, jails, jails,
Jails, jails, jails-
From the helling and the yelling of the jails.
         II
Hear the mad prison wails –
The penitent flails!
What a tale of terror now his turbulency scales!
In the startled ear of night
How he screams out his afright!
Too much horrified to speak
He can only shriek, shriek,
Out of tune,
In futile expostulation to the deaf from the barred.
In his clamorous appealing to the mercy of the guard,
Crying higher, higher, higher,
With a desperate desire,
And his resolute endeavor
To invoke a now or never
From a mute and timeless moon.
Oh the jails, jails, jails!
What a tale their terror tells
Of despair!
How they clang and clash and roar!
What a horror they outpour.
Pounding heartbeats perturbate the air!
Yet the ear fully knows
By the twanging,
And the clanging,
How the danger grows and grows.
The ear distinctly details
From the screwing
And tattooing
How the danger nails and impales
In the wrangling and the mangling in the anger of the jails –
Of the jails,
Of the jails, jails, jails, jails
Jails, jails, jails –
In the clamor and the clangor of the jails!

III

Hear the moaning from the jails –
Foreign jails!
What a world of solemn thought their monody assails!
Of the tortures in the night
How we shiver at the sight
And melancholy menace of their tone!
For every sound that floats
From the rust within their throats
Is a groan.
Ah, the people that we accuse,
Detainees that we abuse
Are alone.
And who keeps the cagelings captive
In their muffled monotone
Feels a glory in so rolling
On the human heart a stone.
They are neither man nor woman -
They are neither brute nor human –
They are Ghouls.
And our country collects the tolls
Of their subhuman souls, souls, souls;
Souls
Sounding from the jails!
Our sense of justice fails,
Drowning in the jails!
We steal their time, time, time
for a sort of punic crime
Resounding in the jails –
Keeping time, time, time
In a sort of Runic rhyme
To the throbbing of the jails,
Of the jails, jails, jails –
To the sobbing of the jails;
Keep time, time, time
As he wails, wails, wails,
In terror, terrorist tales
Revolting in the jails!
In the jails, jails, jails –
To the jolting of the jails,
Of the jails, jails, jails, jails,
Jails, jails, jails –
To the moaning and the groaning of the jails.

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