[CATSKILLS REGION] --

A state geologist has gathered evidence that indicates that the unusual shape of Panther Mountain may have been created by the impact of a meteorite.

Yngvar Isachsen, a scientist with the New York State Geological Survey in Albany, originally suggested the theory in a 1977 paper but was not able to look into the issue until a recent resurgence of interest in the collision of meteorites with the planet.

"There has been a tremendous increase in interest in impact creators," Isachsen said, "It has even entered the popular consciousness through movies like Deep Impact and Armageddon. That interest was really spurred by the theory that the extinction of the dinosaurs 65 million years ago may have been caused by meteorite impacts."

Isachsen said that meteor impacts do represent a "major hazard" to the planet. "If you look at the moon, you see evidence of many impacts. Because it is a ‘dead planet’ you can still see the craters. The earth is much heavier than the moon and as such would attract more bodies moving through space," Isachsen said, adding that the organic nature of the earth’s crust buries the evidence.

The Panther Mountain crater, a 10 kilometer ring located west of Phoenicia, has been listed as a ‘possible’ impact site as a result of Isachsen’s study. Impact craters, which occur about once every 100,000 years are being discovered at the rate of 5 per year. Panther mountain is the only possible impact site identified in the Northeast. Isachsen posits that the impact crater is located about one half mile below the surface and was created 300 million years ago. "If a meteorite fell into the Mississippi River Delta it would be buried, that’s what happened at a slower rate here," Isachsen said.

The crater first came to Isachsen’s attention on LANDSAT satellite images taken by NASA in the 1970s. "Streams generally don’t flow in circles," Isachsen remarked, noting that most streams in the Catskill follow a southwestward flow down a gentle regional ‘dip’ but that the Esopus Creek and the Woodland Creek form "an anomalous circular drainage pattern about 10 kilometers in diameter."

After examining photogeological evidence, Isachsen gathered field data. "It’s circumstantial evidence but is consistent with an impact crater. We measured gravitation in the area and found anomalies that one would expect at an impact crater. The broken rock in the area is less dense than in other parts of the Catskills. In cracks known as joints we found unusual spacing; where they would normally be spaced apart about 6 inches in this region, on Panther Mountain they are 1 inch or less apart. We wondered ‘Why are the joints spaced that way?’"

During field studies, the geologist also noted unusual magnetic patterns. Isachsen said the next step in confirming the theory that the mountain hides an impact crater would require drilling samples in the center of the crater but that there were no funds available for the expensive procedure. Isachsen noted, "The circular feature was noted in the 1940s and they did drill into the rim of the circle searching for natural gas. The looser spacing of rocks which would be an indicator of a good place to drill for gas and would be consistent with the effects of an impact."

In a technical paper Isachsen recently presented, he cites the potential presence of natural gas as being of possible economic significance. He explains that in central and western New York natural gas wells require mechanically freeing gas from a shale matrix but that in an impact crater that process would have occurred naturally. The report states, "reservoir potential of a buried impact crater may exceed that of many of the largest known hydrocarbon accumulations."

According to Isachsen, the US government is currently funding the study of asteroids. "The paths of asteroids and the earth frequently cross, one of them could strike the planet. The military is actually looking into different ways we could potentially change the path of a meteor," Isachsen said.

Depending upon the evidence collected, impact craters can be classified as proven, probable, or possible, the designation Panther Mountain has attained. The three categories contained a total of 46 in 1972, a number which has grown to 166 by 1987 as a result of a resurgence of scientific interest in impact craters.

Appeared in the Daily Freeman of Kingston in 1999.

[EAST DURHAM, NY] --

A congregation of approximately 300 attended a mass of thanksgiving for the peace process in Ireland celebrated by Bishop Howard Hubbard of the Albany Diocese at Our Lady of Knock Shrine Thursday night.

To the soulful sound of the bag pipe, a procession including pastor Jeremiah Nunan, Bishop Hubbard, and several co-celebrants entered the chapel for a full mass. In his opening remarks, the bishop told congregants that "justice brings true and lasting peace" and invited them to pray for peace in Ireland.

The homily was delivered by Rev. Andrew Millar, an Irish historian, native of Ireland, and pastor of Our Lady of Lourdes parish in Massapequa, NY. He placed the troubles in Ireland in a historical context, quoting a variety of sources from George Bernard Shaw to Napoleon Bonaparte.

Millar said, "The longest war in history, which has lasted more than 850 years, ended with the explosion in Omagh 2 weeks ago. For the first time there is a real possibility of peace, but it revolves around one simple question - Do people have the right to determine the future of their native land?"

Millar traced the problems which have erupted in increasingly militant confrontations in recent decades to the 17th century, "Ulster Province had been free until 1607. It was colonized at the same time as Virginia. One third of the men in Ulster, about 45,000, were sent to North America in chains, preceding African slaves by 2 generations. One third of the men were killed in the conquest and the remainder fled into the bogs and the mountains. We have just come down from the mountains and out of the bogs."

Millar elaborated on the schism between the British and the Irish, between Protestants and Catholics, "In the words of George Bernard Shaw, we are the beggars, they are the thieves." He continued, "Everything has changed now. The empire doesn’t exist; the British navy now consists of two sailors and one boat, the European Economic Community won’t permit borders."

Millar also credited some of the entities which have precipitated this year’s Good Friday Peace Accord and the possibility of peace which now exists. "The media has gotten the truth out and internationalized the situation. Negotiators including George Mitchell and Tony Blair have helped bring about a settlement."

"There is a great beauty about to be born in Ireland," Millar concluded to an enthusiatic ovation from the congregation.

At the end of the mass, Bishop Hubbard said, "The recent months have brought great promise and great heartbreak. The Good Friday Peace Accord is a tangible symbol that the nightmare in Ireland is nearing a close while the cowardly killings of the Quinn brothers during the Orangemen parade and the bombing by the so-called ‘real IRA’ have been crushing blows. We must bear in mind what a fragile reality peace is for the people of Ireland and yield to peace, unity, harmony, and accord."

Music for the mass, sponsored by the Ladies Order of Hibernians Division 32, was provided by the choirs of St. Mary’s in East Durham, Our Lady of Knock Shrine, and Sacred Heart parish in Cairo, organist Joe Eigo and soloist Andy Cooney.

Appeared in the Daily Freeman of Kingston in 1998.

Peter Head and Pitchfork Militia

Big Beef Bonanza

Wagon Train Records

The Militia spans a full range of textures from high velocity punk and rockabilly to desolate narratives reminiscent of Woody Guthrie. Peter Head commands the militia with an at-times strident vocal loaded with a nervous tension and a masterful guitar that shares the stridency and tension of the vox. If the characters in Moths songs live between suburbia and the trailer park, Peter Head’s creations are the mutants that live somewhere behind the trailer park where a shady developer made extra money burying toxic drums. Head doesn’t mince words, laying his cards on the table with the bare truth about the desperation of farming and the dust bowl or sophomoric rants on the shortcomings of Pennsylvania; the tracks on this recording should be amusing to just about everyone but the PMRC.

George Clinton and the P-Funk All-Stars

Skidmore College - April 20, 1996

In a three and a half hour ritual replete with incantations to the deities of funk, high priest George Clinton and his band of groove troubadours gave the Saratoga audience instruction in the ancient rite of partying. Judging from the avid participation of those shaking their booties in the sweltering gym, the masters succeeded in transmitting their musical dharma and inciting a mass funk enlightenment.

The ever-growing ensemble of musicians, singers, and performers who appeared on stage exemplified the concept of "maximumisness" which Clinton has espoused as he evolved from leading a doowop group in the early 60s to his current incarnation. The P-Funk All-Stars lay down so many grooves that the effect varies from cacophonous outbursts to long, comfortable, sinuous jams. Some of the Funkadelic elements include axe-y organ barrages, reverb-heavy blues guitar, primordial bass beats, brassy and jazzy horn blasts, and the dual percussive punch of a bongo player and a drummer. To this crowded melange, the Parliamentary contingent added vocal styles evoking be-bop, rap, and artful harmonizing. Clinton and company also provided ample visual stimulation in the form of campy, larger than life costumes and an acrobatic and sensually suggestive dancer.

It is common for people who have not been to a P-Funk show to profess unfamiliarity with the Clinton catechism. As one of the most heavily sampled artists in the music business, his riffs are likely the most familiar sounds around. Clinton appreciates the practice of sampling. In fact, after financial difficulties in the 80s, royalties from samples have fueled a revival in his career. Regardless of whether fans have felt the P-Funk vibes firsthand or secondhand, the result is initiation into the guilt-free pursuit of pleasure known as funk. It is a conversion that is contagious and well worth the trip.

Marabou Stork Nightmares

By Irvine Welsh

W.W. Norton & Co.

Hailed widely as the top writer in the "Edinburgh Beats" scene, Irvine Welsh has proven his accolades are well-deserved in his third novel. Conveyed primarily through the thoughts of the comatose Roy Strang, the novel ingenuously weaves together several engaging story lines through crackling dialogue and a series of at-times unsettling events. While many contemporary novels leave the reader dissatisfied when parallel narratives never congeal, this novel would have been a good read even if Welsh had not tied the elements together in the vivid climax.

Through a series of flashbacks, Welsh describes Strang's upbringing amid the criminality and cruelty of an Edinburgh scheme (low income housing project). Roy's father is a truculent and unsophisticated brute whose only intellectual impulse is to quote liberally from the speeches of Winston Churchill. The erstwhile family patron tries to free his family from the economic deprivation of the schemes by relocating them to South Africa, where they live with a pedophilic uncle whose commercial opportunism has landed him in a comfortable existence. Mr. Strang's penchant for violence and poor judgment terminates the family's quest for financial enrichment, but not before the beauty and turbulence of the country in the throes of apartheid leave an indelible impression on young Roy.

Welsh creates a rich metaphor for Strang's internal grappling with life's baser instincts by interspersing his life story with a fantasy hunt the protagonist undertakes for the vicious Marabou Stork, which in his mental universe is a malevolent creature known for inflicting carnage upon flocks of flamingos. (Actually, the storks are scavengers, which feed on leftovers at abattoirs and game parks.) Strang escapes the intrusion of monologues by visiting members of his dysfunctional family by entering the imaginary stork hunt. In a well-drawn piece of characterization, Roy's openly gay brother, the family outcast, is the only visitor who assumes the unconscious patient can hear him. The others drone on with a telling parade of their obsessions and foibles.

Upon returning to Scotland, Roy is initiated into a scheme- based social circle where brutality garners respect and members gain athletic and entertainment fulfillment by beating up fans of the opposing team at soccer matches. When his "success" in this milieu gets him into serious trouble, Roy escapes to Manchester and a day job. Life seems to be on the upswing when he takes up with a carefree and loving woman, and becomes involved in the rave/ecstasy scene, which Welsh describes with deftness and accuracy. Paradise, of course, is a fleeting condition but as the specter of the past looms over him and his life unravels, Roy gains some rather mature insights into human nature.

Welsh has a keen ear for, and assumably substantial past exposure to, the dialect and slang of the Scottish underclass. He subtly paints pictures of economic and political disparities in Scotland and South Africa through inference, so the work provides social insight without bogging down the narrative flow. Welsh, along with a band of Scottish literary upstarts, has obviously struck a resonant chord. Three of his books appeared in the top ten on the Scottish bestseller list earlier this year and his first novel, Trainspotting, has been made into a motion picture. Given his trenchant exploration of his homeland's seamy desperation, this recognition is well deserved.

 This appeared in The Source magazine of Albany in 1996.

John Burroughs - An American Naturalist

By Edward J. Renehan

Black Dome Press

A six year old biography of John Burroughs, a Catskill mountain native credited with inventing the informal nature essay, has seen a resurgence in public interest with the publication of a soft cover by Greene County publishers Black Dome Press.

Edward J. Renehan, Jr., the author of "John Burroughs - An American Naturalist" was pleased that the local tie-in had generated more interest amongst people living in and around Burrough’s hometown of Roxbury NY, located in Delaware County near the borders of Greene and Scoharie counties. At a book signing and lecture attended by more than 50 people last week at the Zadock Pratt Museum in Prattsville, the author met distant relatives of his subject and members of the Roxbury Burroughs Club.

Although Burroughs is little known today, in his time he was more renowned than writers such as Henry David Thoreau and counted amongst his friends Henry Ford, Teddy Roosevelt, Thomas Edison, Jay Gould, and Walt Whitman. According to Renehan, Burrough’s popularity may have been related to his personal approach, "He was not trained in a scientific sense. When he started writing, he searched for a theme and found nature." During his career, the writer wrote over 30 volumes including literary criticism, and biographies of James Audubon and Walt Whitman, as well as the nature essays. The author Henry James, a contemporary of Burroughs and Thoreau, who is significantly more recognized as a nature essayist today, declared that Burroughs was "more humorous and more accessible" than Thoreau. According to Renehan, Burroughs’ essays are still well worth reading today.

Burroughs was drawn to the theme of nature by a strong emotional bond he felt with the Roxbury farm upon which he grew up. "It is not uncommon for people to have a nostalgia for their childhood but it was more profound in Burroughs. He described it as a ‘homesickness that home can’t cure.’ His sentimentality went beyond the farm and people of his childhood; he longed for a pre-industrial state of innocence which may not have actually existed but was focused in his mind by the lens of memory."

According to Renehan, "There is an element of ministry to Burroughs’ writing. He reminded readers of the agrarian, Jacksonian United States and at times criticized industrial expansion and cities, which in early essays he deemed ‘the devil’s laboratory’."

Although Burroughs decried the unfettered advance of technology, Renehan says he "encouraged a garden nature appreciation that was not threatening to the barons of industry" that the naturalist counted amongst his friends.

"There were some contradictions in Burroughs. He sought to accommodate his friendships with industrial titans by allowing that some industrialization was good. He was swayed by the influence of stronger personalities and was flattered by the attention of major figures such as Henry Ford and Teddy Roosevelt." Renehan said.

Burroughs was particularly impressed with the automobile tycoon, whom he viewed as a "champion of the working man" and an "enlightened employer" who made provisions for safety and fair pay in an era when most employers had no regard for such issues. Ford spent much time with Burroughs, especially at his farm in Roxbury, where the men would go hiking, hunting, and camping, albeit with a fleet of cars and a small army of Ford’s servants in attendance.

Another contradiction Renehan made note of was that the naturalist was an avid and unapologetic sportsman, who favored fishing but was known to hunt as well and picked off woodchucks at the Roxbury farm with great regularity. The building in which Burroughs spent his last years at the farm is known as Woodchuck Lodge and a coat made entirely of woodchuck pelts yielded from Burroughs’ shooting of the farm pests is displayed at the American Museum of Natural History. Renehan said, "There’s a funny anecdote about the Italian artist Cartaino Sciaro Pietro, who was commissioned by Ford to sculpt a likeness of Burroughs. While Burroughs sat for the sculptor, he kept his gun at his side and frequently startled the sculptor by suddenly firing the gun when a woodchuck appeared."

In researching the volume on Burroughs, Renehan studied manuscripts, correspondence, and diaries found in the collections of the New York Public Library, the University of Virginia, and a major collection contributed to Vassar College by Burroughs’ descendants. Anecdotes in the diaries gave Renehan some insight into Burroughs, who in previous biographies had not been studied in a scholarly manner. Renehan said, "There were memoirs written by William Sloane Kennedy in the 1920s and by Burroughs’ granddaughter Elizabeth Burroughs Kelley in the 1950s but those consist almost entirely of personal reminisces of the man."

One diary anecdote displayed an unusual challenge by Burroughs to Henry Ford, a man by whom he had typically been influenced heavily. Renehan explained, "Burroughs had no sympathy for bigotry and stood up to Ford on the issue and also challenged Whitman’s stance on slavery. On one occasion Burroughs was camping with Ford, Thomas Edison, and Harvey Firestone when the issue of the influence of Jews in America came up. Ford was rabid in his hatred of Jews and cited Burroughs’ childhood friend, Jay Gould as an example of a Jewish banker accumulating vast sums of money. Ford was mistaken about Gould’s religious affiliation which Burroughs’ pointed out, saying, ‘I’ve known Jay all my life and all his people are Presbyterians’."

Renehan’s research also included trips to the locales that inspired Burroughs to exhort Americans to start appreciating ‘the nature in our backyards’. Renehan said, "His view of the farm in Roxbury is highly romanticized. It is a very rough area that is too rocky for cultivation; that’s why the area has always been used for dairy farms. In fact, to bury Burroughs atop one of his favorite hills, they had to use dynamite to make a hole in the rocky ground for his grave."

Renehan continued, "The land and the views there are truly beautiful, I can see how Burroughs deemed the ‘valleys suitable receptacles for volumes of languid memories’."

Renehan’s interest in the naturalist writer started while the he was a student at SUNY New Paltz when he rented a house at Riverby, the estate on the Hudson River where Burroughs lived before retiring to his childhood home in Roxbury. During his tenancy, Renehan made the acquaintance of Burroughs’ descendants and through the anecdotes he heard about the writer, became intrigued with the subject. Renehan later wrote a number of essays about Burroughs for the Conservationist in 1987, to celebrate the sesquicentennial of Burroughs’ birth. The essays attracted the attention of Chelsea Green Publishing of Post Mills, Vermont which commissioned the biography from Renehan and published it as a hardcover in 1992.

In addition to the re-release of "John Burroughs - An American Naturalist" as a softcover by Black Dome Press in Hensonville, Renehan will also see the release of his latest work, "The Lion’s Pride: Theodore Roosevelt and His Family in Peace and War" which will be launched by Oxford University Press in October. Copies of "John Burroughs - An American Naturalist" can be ordered from Black Dome Press at 800-513-9013.

 Appeared in the Daily Freeman newspaper of Kingston in 1998.

Two customers, a Portugese woman whose attire and face paint suggested a vain pretense at continental sophistication and an ancient Chinese man with a furrowed and impassive face, pulled crabs out of the box by their antennae. The crowd stirred gleefully when one skirted the mouth of the plastic bag in which he was to be sold and scurried along the sidewalk. While the heavy woman with a bright wrap-around skirt and silky kerchief negotiated price, her partner, wearing the powder blue dress worn by domestics, weighed the bags with a portable scale.

On the busy downtown street adjacent to the crab sale, a verkeer policeman pulled over a pudgy businessman in a rather modest Toyota Corolla. The tendency of vehicles to reflect their owners (or more accurately the owner's self image) did not apply here. While simultaneously talking to someone on his cell phone, he attacked the African, middle-aged officer with a bombastic expression of disbelief and indignation.

"How can you tell me you're right and I'm wrong? Is not possible." The man spat this out in the staccato enunciation and chirpy cadence of those whose native tongue is Afrikaans.

The officer responded in softer tones which were swallowed in traffic noise while clenching his hands in the manner of a preacher and patiently explaining his complaint against the driver.

As the negotiation between officer and citizen continued on the street, a white van with opaque windows slowed to drop off a man, armed and slightly pudgier than the traffic violator, who posted himself at the bank entrance. The matte black of the automatic rifle he held in a position of readiness appeared nearly identical to that of the crabs' murky shells. The van dropped two other passengers, who charged the sidewalk with the agility of military-trained commandos and unsnapped their holsters. I was sorry I didn't have a stopwatch to assess the precision in the timing of their deployment. The third commando threw open the back gate of the van, unlocked a cage within, and pulled out a collapsible trolley and several large canvas bags. While he conveyed the money bags down the sidewalk, his sidekicks' eyes darted about expectantly in search of would-be attackers.

One guard paced up and down the sidewalk while another brushed back the crab crowd with a slight wave of his rifle. I suspected another was cleaning reserve weapons and checking the readiness of tactical explosives in the armoured vehicle. When the chunky flatbed lorry of a construction contractor pulled up behind the mobile fortress, one guard fiercely stared down the corpulent contractor in the passenger seat from a distance suitably close for a whispered conversation. The contractor had the kindly face common to tradesman corrupt enough to have a steady stream of jobs but honest enough to do them properly. I doubt any similar thoughts crossed the mind of the guard as he visually interogated the cleverly disguised would-be robber and fingered the safety on his 9mm.

It was easier to guess what crossed the mind of the crab as he bit the pale, plump lady in the tent-like dress who lifted him from the box by his antenna. No doubt he felt oppressed by his relocation from the box to the fat lady's pot, but I can't be entirely sure the crab possessed a sense of timing or appreciation for the tension surrounding the bank entrance. The events precipitated by the woman's shrill yelp were predictable but unfolded with the deliberate slowness of a teacher repeating a lesson for inattentive students.

The guard on the sidewalk pulled his 9 from the holster. The muzzle emitted a yellow flash and deafening crack before his arm reached full extension. A large African woman with a baby saddled to her back with a blanket fell next to the woman who'd screamed. The fat woman did not seem to comprehend what had happened, shaking the crab-pinched hand while the wounded woman rolled at her feet.

The traffic cop pulled out his gun and alternately pointed it at the street and guard at the bank entrance. The guard within locked the door to the bank and waved his gun behind the tinted glass.

The people on the sidewalk stared at all the gunpointing for a moment before they ducked into the doors of shops, belly-crawled under benches, and overturned the merchandise-laden tables of hawkers to make barricades as leather goods, counterfeit tapes, and cosmetics were trampled in the sudden exodus. Several young men, some in business slacks and print tops, others in the attire favored in the ghettoes of the US, pulled out their own pistols and pointed them into the air or at the guards. A fourth guard appeared behind the corner of the security van and pointed a shotgun at the passenger in the contractor's lorry. When the man tried to open the door, he shot out the lorry's windscreeen in vindication of his comrade's earlier suspicions.

Security guards in several stores held walkie-talkies to their mouths with the send button depressed and seemed to contemplate the best words to describe what was happening. The crab hawkers lay in the fetal position in a shallow doorway with the box of crabs wedged between them. Two older women in berets, monochrome jerseys, and ankle length skirts comforted the woman on the ground, bleeding from the shoulder, and extricated the screeching baby's leg which was pinned between his granny's side and the cement. Open-mouthed and still impassive, the Chinese man walked past the scattered people with his free bag of live crabs.

*

Despite the frequent complaints I'd heard about the responsiveness of South African law enforcement, a fleet of police vehicles lined the street within moments. Behind them, a row of security company vans and private ambulances closed rank shortly thereafter. The relevant parties were dispersed, disarmed or treated for minor wounds, and the street had returned to its usual cacophonous city rhythms when my bus arrived.

The events I witnessed on Eloff St. were eclipsed in The Star's evening edition by the deaths of 16 people crushed in a stampede incited by train station security guards armed with electric cattle prods and an on-duty cop shot by an off-duty cop moonlighting as a bank robber. I still ride the city bus but have lost all desire to eat shellfish.

"A Good Morning For Crabs" appeared in YoMiMoNo Magazine in Hiroshima, Japan.

The night bird wants to get drunk.

When it's whiskey

she really feels the connection.

She glides up the creek bed

below the eaves of our house

and peers in the windows.

Surrounded by a band

of teen-aged hooligans

she seeks mischief

and don't care at whose expense

she gets her kicks.

She is queen of shrill.

Cuts to the quick

with sharp tongue

acid wit.

She screams in the face

of shotgun threats.

Her onslaught stuns raving madmen

into elegant poems.

Believe me

you don't want to call her out

and taste bitter retort

and lose quiet familiarity in your home.

It's best to offer her a bottle

or dowse the lights

and secretly watch her glide past.

A choir of glittering flesh

from Hell's Kitchen

hidden in satiny robes

is conducted by a lust broker

with gold rings and gold teeth.

The altar boys try to jimmy

the collection box lock

to buy a few grains of salvation

the Williamsburg Corkscrew dances

in trembling hands.

With the cheap perfume of strippers

the priest annoints the baby

bastard son of love criminals

who light a baptismal candle

with matching Zippo's

a gift from Grandpa

clad in plaid polyester

after a good day at the track.

Granny slips out for another cigarette

or to sell dime bags on the block.

Three Kings arrive bearing gifts:

The King of Protection brings

a curved ivory horn

dangling from a thick gold chain

The King of Numbers offers

savings bonds, of a sort

and King Shylock presents

an autographed picture of Sinatra.

The priest opens a worn leather prayer book

which he once tried to hock, unsuccessfully.

He reads with a haste normally reserved

for masses on sweltering days.

His words are familiar to churchgoers

but a con man who reads lips

detects a different blessing

for the child Christopher

named for the saint

who will be decanonized

before the boy is a teen.

"Your birthright is stigma.

You shall know scorn in your time

but growing up in the company of sinners

and non-believers in the law

you will learn a low virtue.

The street will teach you to discern truth

and mark keepers of the freak code.

You will know your kin.

Virgin sex crimes do not mark the soul.

Maverick chip on your shoulder

You may cop a sage called insanity.

Bear it with honor."

The party adjourns

for a buffet in the church basement.

A bright punch elevates them all

to a higher plain known as crazy wisdom.

The recently rehabbed priest

has already ascended via altar wine.

What a burden to serve in His house

when it is so full of temptation.

Both poems appeared in Night Bird Calls by Erwin A. Karl which was published by the prestigious Photocopier Press.