Friday, November 16, 2007


When I was a kid,
my mom did not believe
in anything she could not see, including God.

My friend Bruce wanted me
to go to church with him.
I asked my mom for permission to go.
She said no,
that I was too young
and too impressionable.

I don't think I ever went
to Bruce's church.
Before long, though,
I was attending up to
four churches a Sunday,
trying to get a bite of that forbidden fruit.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Well said. This is so true.

Whatever is forbidden and repressed, beneath
it all, we are convinced, is sweet to the teeth.
The grimmer the warning of brimstone & burning,
The greater the power of deep, inner yearning.

What all saints, all sinners, have in common at the root:
Would it taste so rich, we wonder, were it not forbidden fruit?


I told my grandson Charlie what my teacher told me 60 years ago... that a work of art is finished when none of the original idea remains. So...