To All Men -- 4

The Bride of Cana Talks to a New Neighbor

Teasing at the table, rollicking in bed,
Oh but it is merry to be cozy, to be wed,
Laughing at the jigging of the dancing of the years,
All a jolly decade now we've frisked away the tears.

Right from the beginning it was ever, ever gay,
And we had a lit-up wonder of a lively wedding day.
All the wildest young folks from a league and more
about,
Never such a tickling, such a giggling, such a shout.

An amateur magician -- what a crazy boy! --
Drinking, dancing, caroling, clean bewitched with joy,
Kicking of his heels up, never out of breath,
The darlingest young student ever came from Nazareth!
Tossing up the maidens, doing magic tricks --
Maybe he was silly, but I loved his sandal-clicks.

When the wine was finished, he did a miracle,
Pretended to turn water into wine by just a spell.
My he was a cute one! This MMM "magic" wine he got
Was the strongest, was the tastiest, of all the wed-
ding lot, was the nosiest of the lot!

Gracious, oh my gracious, but my talking of this lad
Will make you think I fell for him, so winsome and
so bad,

But just the same my bridegroom was the darling of
the sun.

That nimble-footed vagabond was good enough for fun
But my husband, oh my husband, he's the good and
mendly one!

steady

To All Men -- 5

A Report to the Jerusalem Guild of Physicians, Barbers and Exorcists

Magisters, doctors, learned sirs, Excellencies,
Protus, the blood-letter and masseur,
Here makes report, as you ordered me,
On the medical ethics of that guest, introducer,
The late Ben Joseph from Nazareth
Whose practise was rumored to be so large,
And I have, most painfully, to report
He had great success, and a lot of cures!

As a questioning qualified medical man
I made a profound and precise research,
With authorised methodology,
Going so far as to meet the man.
I saw him cure seventeen lepers, nine
Cases of blindness and thirty lame,
And raise one Lazarus from the dead.
He was recommended by millionaires!
But I kept on looking, and found his trick.

The man had arranged with Beelzebub
That when he called demons they should obey
And spare the patient, who thus got well,
To impress the vulgar, and steal our jobs --
Sickening the sensitive souls of the saints!
He planned, with the offerings of his dupes,
To build a political machine
And share the spoils with Beelzebub.
But I uncovered their vicious plot.

I needed proof, though, exact and tested,
And, doctors, I got it, true and tight!
Here's the procedure I wisely followed:
I talked with a demon! And he admitted
My grave suspicions had all been right!

A minor proof was, as I had noted,
That cripples he "cured" still retained a limp,
Showing the demon which lay within the impatient
Showing the demon still hid in the patient
And never had left the host at all.
And the demon I interviewed said as much.

One proof I got was most scientific.
Pursuing my duties, I went to see
The execution of this Ben Joseph.
A diversified gathering watched the hanging,
Hysterical women for the most,
Screaming this fake r was God the Healer,
Messiah and prophet and king divine;
That, laying his hands on their wailing children,
He had caused the babies to laugh again.

their

To All Men -- 7

Lazarus Gossips in the Bazaar

His death was just. I welcome it.
This Jesus was a hypocrite,
A monster of ingratitude,
Selfish, intolerant and rude!
Ask any one in Bethany.
They'll tell you how he treated me.

Though hating his religious trend,
I bravely called the man my friend.
I entertained him, unafraid,
With my poor sisters' humble aid --
Mary and Martha, short on looks
But trained by me as perfect cooks.
Many's the meal of curds and cheese
And good hot lamb and peppered pease
He had, while still unknown and poor
And thankful for my generous door.

Then he became notorious
And grew, oh far, too good for us!
Set up as healer, prophet, sage,
Became, by accident, the rage.

But I am an unswerving friend.
I used to praise him and defend,
Not criticize behind his back
When others called the man a quack.
Mary, a girl almost too sweet,
Believed his crazy claims complete,
And one night, when he came from far
To sup with us, she took a jar
Of spikenard ointment, precious, rare,
An heirloom which our father's sire,
A famous skipper, brought from Tyre,
And, while he lolled and boasted there,
She made him an annowment paste.
Well! I was shocked by such a waste,
But I kept still. I was his friend
Till life should end.

I fell sick, later. Much afraid,
My sisters wrote to him for aid.
He did not answer, not a word!
Delirious voices soon I heard,
And then, oh wondrous miracle,
Suddenly I was sane and well
And light of heart and young of bone,
And standing in a place unknown,
A costly city, all the best.

I thought that I was strangely dressed,
A muffler round my head and chin,
While linen wrappings bound me in.

To All Men -- 8

Lazarus Gossips -- 2

I wrenched, and tried to pull them free,
So I might run around and see
That city, which delighted me.

The streets were pearl, and in the streets
Were silver tables spread with sweets
And polished fruits and dripping meats,
While girls in silk, all smile and curve,
Gestured their eagerness to serve,
And the crowd that danced along the pearls
Were mostly sly and beckoning girls.

But with them, aged and benign,
Were three old sages, half divine,
Their hands out, nobly welcoming me
As though I were of royalty.
From stories that my father told
About the prophet kings of old,
I knew them, I was sure of them --
Moses, Abraham and Shem!

"Hail, Lazarus, victor!" cried the three.
"A mighty seraph shall thou be!
On earth a poor man driven hard,
Heaven's highest thrones are thy reward,
And heavenly maids of high degree
Shall honor, cherish, fondle thee!"

Into this wild beatitude
Came, supercilious and rude,
A voice befouled and vile from Earth,
Sneering, "Lazarus, come forth!"

Gone was the heavenly city bridle
And I was lying in a cave,
Again a stinking mortal slave,
With Jesus bending over me,
My sisters yelping piously,
"Brother, he's raised thee from the dead!"
"Oh! Thank you very much!" I said.

I told him, when we were alone,
How he had robbed me of a throne.
He'd "raised me from the dead," it's true.
God knows I never asked him to!

To All Men -- 11

The Second Thief Thinks, on the Cross

I'm sure I've got the lowdown on our friend
That passed out and his folks took, at the end.
Bacchus! He was in luck to croak so soon!
Me, I can hang here suffering till the moon,
God damn her, smiles down from her God-dammed skies,
Arms aching break and torn hands agonize,
And the tendons once so supple at the loom
Are stiff and dead before my final doom.

My razzle-dazzled head revolves the If
Whether it be on the evencomer's bus or train.
That comes to bother every working stiff
Who takes the Oath and becomes a Partisan.
Well, that was him -- he was a Partisan!
Too shut-mouth to confess, but in his stoop
Was that pretended meekness of our Group.
Sure, he was ours!

It makes me laugh to hang here labeled "Thief"!
I stole, all right -- a lovely parchment leaf,
Top-secret, passed by Pilate, 7-4-D --
The Roman plan to break up all Jüdest + tighten up Jüdest.

I kept my mouth shut, as a Comrade can,
Never knew nothing of their lousy plan.
Same with that guy.

Say! Him a Holy Man?
Lukewarm milk of kindness filmed in the pan?
A fuzzy Messiah, thumping a fake'r's can?
Not on your life! No mansions in the sky
For him -- a hardboiled direct-action guy!

That stuff about "he'd see me in Heaven tonight"
Was funny, though. It fooled the cops all right.
Tonight we'll rest together, him and me --
To the right and left of Jonathan Maccabee!
Peaceful beside the fire and brimstone river,
Underground living, underground now forever!

He seemed a simple sort of country cat,
The regular lumpen-proletariat,
A silent, skinny, village handsaw-pusher,
A whiskered, sad-eyed, plodding-footed busher
As inconspicuous as a foggy night.
Half-dreamy.... Sure! An undercover man
With the perfect set-up for a Partisan!

To All Men -- 12

The Second Thief -- 2

Then
out of his dimness, like a falcon's flight,
His glance would swoop, and slash you through and through,
Yank your whole heart out with its tearing claws
And ticket you
Collaborationist or loyal Jew.
That guy was some one high up in the Cause!

I heard him muttering, "I fulfill the Law."
You bet he did, but not the Roman law,
Nor the synagogal, hypocritical caw!

I'd like once more to razz the cops, and say,
"I've seen the Dawn, if not Man's burning day!"
But I'm so hoarse, so thirsty, and so weak.
Before I croak, though, one last time I'll speak,
Through my gang, and through his, to Jew and Greek,
Roman, Egyptian, Carthaginian:
"Rise! We shall see him the triumphant march of Man!"

But
I wish he could have -- sure, I know he tried --
Said "So long, Comrade!" once before he died!

To All Men -- 15

Epistle of St. Andrew -- 2

#

Ye tend to argue, sniff and smirk and carp
At decent sermons running three good hours --
The proper length to show an apostle's powers.

Ye faithless generation, viper crews,
Ye spawn of Satan, Hellenizing Jews!
Ye murderers, ye spewers forth of filth,
Ye worshippers of power and shameful wealth,
Ye scoffers, black with your adulteries,
Ye hate the Lord, and Him disdain to please
By following His covenanted creed
Of faith and charity and pious deed.

Brethren, a holy kiss for times of doubt,
And peace and blessing fold you all about
And comfort you, beloved. And watch out!

To All Men -- 17

St. John the Divine -- 2

And that trader, crouched and crafty,
Leered like men that deal in doom
For a moment of sheer evil --
Then was gone as he had come,
Instantly, and in his room
Was Our Lord, benign and tender,
Teacher, master, grave, resigned,
Brother to all humankind.

Once, I saw Him in a garden
Praying like a man unseen.
Then there came a change slow creeping
In His Jewish gabardine
Coarse but decent, modest, clean.

It turned brown and rough and ragged,
And amid His thick black hair
Came a white spot in a circle,
As it had been shaven bare,
Startling there.

Now, He spoke, as if conversing,
In a tongue I never heard,
No one near Him -- just some sparrows
And a white and tawny bird
That never stirred.

And I thought His voice was tender,
Just as when He sits and tells
To the little children round Him
The gentlest of his parables,
Like shepherds' bells.

This I saw and heard, my brethren,
Though I did not understand.
Peter bellowed, when I told him,
Smote my shoulder with his hand,
Said to Mark, with shouting laughter,
"Poor John gets these crazy spells!"

Once, at dusk, He was transfigured
To a sad man, thin and tall,
With a wart upon his cheekbone,
Round his neck his prayer shawl.
I heard him call
Words of triumph, ardent, slow,
And again in some strange language.
Though the words I did not know
Thus his large, plain phrases sounded:
"People, people, for the people,
By the people, all the people."

I