(
~
!
~
~
--------
...,
~
-
---
~
---
-
----------
\
.
.














..
l
·,
:.
.
I
G
I
j•
'
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eclitor-in--chief
john
darey
associate editors
bernard
,rnJJ
l igan
scott
mckenna
joseph
devita
r
acu.lty
adrlsor
·
robert lewis
managing
editor
john kavanagh
. .
:
~
.
.
.
1,Uarist
€oll~£e
.
·
.
~U}!hlietp!iie,
1\T.[,










contributors
richard bala
italo benin
lirrla cloer
john darcy
cornelius draves
stephen garger
rose gravis
thoma.s hackett
michael keru\V
bryce ld.ernan
robert lewis
edgar
marotti
scott mckenna
bernie mulligan
thomas rabbitt
joeeph smigelski
milton teichman
cover
art,
"Man
absorbed
in
his Book"
by
sam ditullo
photograph• courtesy of richard
brumrnett













In
the
following
pa~es,
you
will
find
assembled
the works
of several students
and
members
of the faculty
of Marist
College.
They
have
been
chosen
fr
om
among
the
many
submitted because of their excellence in our opinion.
Read
them with
·
care
arrl a
spirit of
constructive
criticism.
Znjoy
them.
Respond
to them.
We hope that this
f
irst
issue
after such a long
lapse
will
serve
as an
impetus
for further
issues in the
future.
We
hope that
more
people will see
fit
to submit
works
for publication. These
may
be
turned irt o the
Mosaic through the campus
Mail,
Box
856.
:Yes,
the editors


















Serenity
He
shall st
o
nd by the child
;
for leaves
~
·
re
blue
B.8
rob1
n
'
s
.
e
i::
·
gs
and he
h
R
S
ch
P
ntPd
refr
P
1
ns
to the
-
purple sun
.
















SFB SHE
In
the
evenin~
she
floats
like a full
moon, mystic, distant.
In
the water she swims
like she lives there, silently, easy.
In
the morning she moves
like she slept all night long.
In
an early
mist
she disappears
like she really meant to.
In
the daylight she shines
like the summer sun burning.
Now she bows,
like
a
palm
tree frorxl
·
am
moves
on
·
as the rising air and blue skies'
love song combine to sway her.
-Scott McKenna











nill you gather the pieces
Of
my
illusions
Am be
there
to hold
m
e
When
my
sun
f
a
l
From the sky?
l
s
When
rey-
lollipop is
eaten
And
the pink toy-chest is empty
Will you
be
there to watch
Me
cry?
-Lin::la Cloer













SUNDAY
MO
RN
ING A
T
-
LAUDS
I
I
stood silently
at
my
window
Gazing at the morning light,
Not
yet
bright,
And
I
wrestled with
my
tiredness
Until
I
lost myself 1n the
dawn.
I
stood silently at
my
window
Gazing at the mulatto
sky,
A
bird
flew
by,
And
I
awoke
from
my
gaze
To realize
the
fulness
of
the dawn.
I
stood silently at
my
window
Lost 1n the
newness
of the
day,
And
I
began
to
pray
To the Fashioner of the
varigated
sky,
A laud
to the Lord of the
dawn.
I I
I knelt silently before
my
window
A silhouette for the
dawn,
And I felt
drawn
To
break
the
silence
and the
peace
To suddenly
speak
aloud.









It was
Sunday morning at
Lauds
A
time for hopeful expectations of
the
day.
A time to
pray.
Now
the hours
of the
night behind me
Another
dawn.
I could not
stop
my
praying
Nor cease
my
groping
Or
hoping
For
a new
dawn of the world
A
new
light from the same one.
III
It was
Sunday
morning at Lauds
And I cried for the
dark
still around me.
Why should it be?
When the light 1s here
Changing the dawn continuously.
I knelt at
my
window
Praying as I did before,
For peace not war,
And I groveled before
H1m
Knowing He knew how to act.







I stood silently before
my
.
window
Gazing at the morning light.
N
ow full bright.
And I wrestled with
my
frustration
Over the hatred in the world.
-C?rnelius J. Draves
.




,,,,,,,,,,
I




TRANSMISSION POINT
BEYOND
CENTURAS
TO
HOLES
IN
SPACE
-Bryce Kiernan-







PEOPLE PLACES AND THINGS
The long haired owner of the pipe shop eager
to sell the kind of pipe with the smallest bowl,
The waitress
at the diner, once the girl I
Dreamed of while not thinking of anything,
And the game warden in the woods in his
Car watching the sunset are people I know,
The p~ople I see often look at me.
The places I go come to me~
The weedy stream bed, shallow
-
along the
Straight runs but deep at the bends
The narrow branches at the top of trees,
Thin bark covered pencils unable to support
My
weight,
And the floors of pine tree groves covered
By layers or needles brown and uncountable
Are places I know.
The places I see often stay with me.
The places I go come to me.







The bolt action rifle, steel
_
blue after a
Fresh application of bluing.
My
freshwater aquarium with five fresh-
Caught fry f1n1ng for equilibrium,
And the new table lamp I made with
Parts
from
an
older table
lam~ are
some
'Dl1ngs I know about.
'!he things I see try to look at me.
The places I go come to me.
-Scott McKenna












Haikus for
-
Supperannuated Gurus
Dog-tii,ed;
beat
I
ride the road
and
ask
"who
the
·
hell
.
is Kerouac?"
Horny
and
inspired,
Ginsbe~g
blows his load on
gay
.
mangl4td pages.
Frisco has seen,
Jack
and Allen, Corso and Snyder
and now Reagan.
-John Darcy-










NINA
_
Stron~
arms. stron
g
legs--
Golden hair cascading to her waist.
Hapey, carefree,
L
ightning changes flash across her
face.
Vibrant
.
smiling,
Hair-a-flying, skiin
g
over splashing
waves.
Laughing. running,
Tumbling down a grassy
_
knoll with
Dave
.
Sunli
g
ht shining,
Eyes enlar
g
ed to take in nature's space
Int
ensely, quietly,
Watching. now, a spider spinning lace.
Sunlight falling•
Dusk begins:
skies
turn blue to
gray
Purring
so
ftly
,
Calling HER from day to day to day.
-Rose Gravis



























•
}11
Name
is
Arthur
Norris
Dumby
yea
d
umby
thats
what all
the people call
-
f'le
Im
not
dumb
or an
idiot
or stupid like
they all
say
I
am
I
don't
think
so no
Im
not
I
love them
I
like all
the people
even
the
kids that sometimes
throw fruit
at
me
in
the
night
Why
do
they do that
Im
always
good
to them yes i
am
}11
name
is
Arthur Norris
Im
thirtyseven
years
old caus
I
was born in
1942
no
I
mean
1932
Sometimes
I
for
gett
al')3Way thats what
Misses
Fargut
down at the city hal offis tells
me
when
I bring
papers
am
stuf
for
her to help
me
with
Old
Misses
Fargut is nice
when shes not being busey
with all them men eith ties
aroun
ther necks and she
takes real
good
care
for
me
she
is good
like that arrl
I
love her am sometimes
go
a lot to her hous
a.rxi
take
care am keep her noers wet
so everybody says they looke
do
wonertull
She
would
never ever call me dwnby because
my
name is
Arthur
an:i
she nows it
but
a
lot
dont
~
how I've been here in Parksville all
!I\V'
lif
Longer
than A.l'\V
'
bod7 but old
Howard
Carpenter
who
ouned
th• furniture store
buy
dyd
all ready so
Im





















the
longest I still have
nw
roome
on top
of
the furni-
ture
shop
which the
Church now uses to mak
littel
books
for suniay
and they let
me
stay ther
if
I
clean the
wals arxi nores
and
the
bathroome two times
a week
The
Church
is
g
ood to
me arxi
I
g
o ther arxi here
Fat her
Rafferty
and
put some money for
all
the
poore people
in
the
basket caus
they
need
it
and
not nery body
can be
so
wel
off
as
me
so
I
just got
to
help
them
I
used to have a job
with
old Howard Carpenter in the
Furniture store
but
you know
what hapen to
him
so
caus
of
that
I
work
on
the truk that
goes
aroun the
town
I pik up leavs and swep the walks arxi
sometimes
I
carry
cement
and
mi.xx
for
holes
But this
job is
g
ood arxi
I get a
lot
mor mol'.\V'
then
from old
Howard
Carpenter ard Snips
iey-
dog
and
Sim
Sam
~
kiten
and
even
11\Y'
tertel
who in
Janxy eat bet-
ter
and
me to
The job
gets
me to be out all day ard to say hello to
all the people who
I
see
but
they doey
always say
hello back sometimes they just laff
~ • dumby
But the most
tun
I
have
is at the recreation tield on
sataday
morning


















Ip
the sumer the kids all
play
baseball am it
is
real fine to
g
o am wach and
sometimes
the kids that
are
playing bring ther littel
brothers
am
me
am
them throw a ball aroun
Littel
ones
are always nice to
m
e but
cometimes
when
the littel ones who are nice
get
big they are not so
nice no more
~
how baseball is
good
but
I like the fal beter when
it is time for football teems to play
All the kids
foks
come to the recreation field to
wach ther kids
a.ni
sometimes the foks
get
into bad
fites am shout
and
stop waching ther kids on the
field
I
always walk
far
wq
when this hapens
a.n:l
dont
feel to good on the inside but
it always
hapens
But
I lik to wach the kids play
Winter
is
bad
for
me no body is aroun
The teribel thing that hapened to me hapened
last
year I
was
sittin
in
D\V
roome
in
the i:rety late
night
am Misses Lawton came in
am
smelt
drunkt
am
·
was
hangin
on to me
am
saying
how Mister Lawton
was doin
bad
things
ani
she was crying
a.n:l
she said
that all the time she was alon with no body aroun
for her
am
she wanted a man
a.rrl
she thoght that I
might be one so I was real scaird
an:i
didnt
know
what to do but I didnt toche her or aey thing but





















.
.
.
:r
was lucky caus
she pased out
in
rrr::,
arms
ani
was sic
but
I got her home
ani
to her porch
Nex day
I
said
hello to
lnss-,s
IAwton
but
she was in
a hury ani never
said
nothin so
I
g
essed
she
for gott
but not me no never
People always
call
me
dumby
but
the shoudnt caus
Im
really not
Heck
I
can
write
an:i
spel prety good
caus before
my
Mon
dyd
when
I
was twenti
she
tawt
me
a
littel to
get
along on but
she neVer had
no time to lern
ma
to
read to
Mon made
me
write
ani spel
a littel when
she sewed
stuf real prety stuf
for
all the rich ladys
of
Parks-
ville so we
could
by
some food caus she
said that
my
fater was a bum ani
no good caus he
took off
for
the
west when I was two
But
Mom always
mad
me
able to
S!J:Y
ani spel peoples
names so when I would ever need anything they wood
help me caus she said I was
d
iferenb~arrl
I
gess I
am
but
I still like
arrl
love very body even the kids
with fruit
arrl
Mister Lawton
I was a sad fella
for
a
long time when Mom
dyd
but
I
stil love it here in Parksville
but
please
dont for-
gett
JV'"
name is Arthur Norris.
- stephen A. Garger-







Anthem
When breasts deflate
and the wetness dries
all the joy
somehow dies.
It wasn't love.
I
haC, a need.
like
dogs
and cats
I love to breedl
·
-Scott
McKenna










G
uitar and
Sandalwood
M
y
harrl
veined and tense
upon the steel strings
Your hand
pale
lin~ering
with the match
Crickets beyond
the cracked walls
baying to meteors
A
song
of a princess
of
a
raven
The
fairy tale
retold
many times before
-&lgar Marotti













SISTERS
We
talked,
Giggli
ng
under
sheets of
white,
long into
night,
While
father
called,
"Save
some
for tomorrow."
We laughed a lot,
She performing to
my
audience
of one,
Exaggeratin
g
incidents, ,i,icking
beaus.
Life was a
game
We played, with no thought of a loss.
We
danced
Endlessly, practicing steps to use the next night.
Interrupting meals, while mom tried not to laugh.
We shared
Confidences, clothes,
kissing each
other's beaus,
Delighting 1n each other's tiny
gain.
Life was a game
We
played, with no thought of a loss.
We worked
Scrubbing
floors, waxing,
joking,
Fighting
and
a
cry, "It's not
my
turn to dry."






We consoled
One another--things will be great;
Things will improve.
Life was a game
We played,
with
no thought of a loss.
And then--
She lay there, white and still,
While
I
sat, stunned within.
We consoled
One another----remember?
Things
will
improve.
Her lips
Moved gently--! moved olose.
"Not this time", she sighed.
-B. Gravis


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ordwor
rdwo
dw
-Michael Kenny
...



absur
d
-Michael Kenny






















Dreams,
Wishes
,
Etc
.
Three
C
lass
Poems
by
Stude
nts
of
Eng
lish
304B
The follow
i
n
g
experiments
in poetry
are
class cola-
borations.
Aware of the avera
ge
student'
s
conceptions
of
poetry arxi poets,
I
knew
I
would have bewildered
arxi
a-
larmed students
in
rrry
English 304B (Wo
rksho
p
in Writing)
if I
asked
them to
go
home arxi wr
i
te
a
poem for
the next
meeting. Instead,
I proposed at
the
beginning
of class
one day
that we
d~vote the
s
ession to the
writing of
class
poems.
Artists arxi
mus
icians have
collaborated
in
one way
or
another,
arxi so have prose
writers--so why
not have collaborative
poetry on a simple
level?
Arxl
since
no one
expects
us
to
be
elegant
or
mu
s
ical or pro-
foun:l,
I
said, we
meedn't worry about
dis
a
p
pointing
any-
body.
We can have
the
p
l
easure of dis
covery. I proposed
a simple
unifyin
g m
ot
ifs-
.
-
"I dr
eamt
I I '
"I wish
I I '
"I
used
to
be
but now
I am"--
and
asked each student
to jot down
a line
or two for
each
mo
tif
.
You
can be way-out, fanci-
f'ul,
fantastic I
suggested. Anything
goes.
Ar:rl
if you
can
avoid
soun:ling
"poetic"
in the
usual sense of the
ward, all the better. The
experience
proved to be exhil-
lirating arxi
great
fun
.
It proved
to be profitable as
well, because in the
process of
editing the material, the
class learned something about poetry; that it is most
satisfying
when
it
is
verbally
inventive, concrete, eco-








nomical arrl evocative.
M
otivated
by
t
h
eir
c
ont
r
ibu
t
i
o
ns
to the
class poems,
more
than a few
st
udents
in
Eng
l
is
h
J04B
have
gone on
to write
poetry
of
their own.
I
am
indebted
to
Kenneth
K
och whose
t
ho
u
g
ht
s
on t
h
e
subject of teaching
poetry to
youn
g
people st
imul
at
ed me
to attempt the
classroom
experiment •
.
-~.llton
Teic
hman
-












Wishes
I wish
I
were
a
fish
,
swimming in
ll\Y'
grarximother'
s
cool
crystal dish, the one on top
or
her
T. V.
_
set.
I
wish
I
were a
clean glass
jar
filled with
Japanese
pebbles,
black am smooth,
I
bought
in Woodstock last summer.
I
wish
I
could UDierstam
the solace achieved
by
the widoved
thick-skinned rhinoceros frolicking
in his
mud
hole in
Keeya
.
I
wi•h
I
was a
piece
of
paper,
lines
am
spaces all together.
I wish I
were somevhere
south-east
or
the
New
Hebredies sailing a
six-foot
python
ca.nary-yellov super jet.












U
se
d
to
3e •••
I used to
be
a marshmal
l
ow,
soft and easily toasted.
But now
I
a
m
a wal
nu
t
arrl will crack only urrler
the most oeculiar circUl!l
<Jt
ances.
I
used to be a member o
f
the Tewilli
g
er
~
akefield baoo,
But now
I
am a volunteer
f
ireman.
I used to
be
a tin c
a
n but now I am the beans inside.
I used to
be
able to throw rocks throu
g
h the
¥.anhattan sky,
But now I'm only able to reach the 20th floor i
n
the
apartment e
l
evator.
I used to
be
the lowest note
on Beckie's clarinet, that blue black sourrl
that made
rrry
eyes look u
p.
Now I am the major chord that ends the son
g
about Marranos
and
their Seder in a cave
.
I used to
be
a
caterpillar in
ch
ing on the grourxi.
Now
I am a Butterfly: the warm air is
rrry
freedom,
the soft light
rrry
haven.
I travel on the back of the wioo.









Jreams
I
freamt
I was flyin~
hi~h. low, soaring and sailing
through S!)ace and time
dressed
in
my
~reen shorts and white t-shirt
I dreamt the ebony cup I held with trembling
harrls ooured sweet curling smoke line
down
my
arms
into
a void
I dreamt of st~rry thin~s without light
but all irridescent with feeling; cooling blue
arrl absurd ice-hot red
I
dreamt
I was a speck
of
ink
locked irrevocably
on a page tossed in a waste paper basket.
I
dreamt I went ocean swimming
in
my
winter
coat:
a drippy sea monster
with a wet plaid muffler arrl a
drenched
fur
hat, the one I bought
impulsively at
Macy's







The wind
played with
my
leaves
her song
.
a soft touch
delicate fingers
set my greens to dance
praise
for
love
too soon
the wind
sings
·
eternal
_
with
a fading
summer voice ••••
An autumn witness
sees
my brown
and wasted
leaves
hanging motionless
waiting
on another
wind
a
-
final breeze
to
free
them from my branches ••••
I within the bark
grow tired of the wind
lament
.
ing
for I am barren now
my
leaves
·
are on the ground
her song is over
unfinished ••••
-Thomas Rabbitt-






Orgasm of Space Poetry
Three
men in
a
rocket
ultimate vacuum high
floating/flying thru
black
seas of shiny
blistered sun-baked
starfish.
Va-Room!
Swooshl
Zoom!
go the engines of
Jules Verne's fairy tales,
Now on dark side of moon.
No contact. Houston
tense.
No return.
Minutes moTe.
Hour 1s up.
No contact.
No return.


Three men with rocket -
endless ancient tragedy -
now part of vast ritual
No
joy
No
joy
Nothing
of creation.
in
Houston.
on
in
earth.
space.
-John Darcy















Lova staterr.ent
I
I stand
by
the brown branch
the sinews split
and
no lonv,er
·
stron~
Hailstones dwell on
my
left side
~ar~oyle
and
sphinx
~ambol
right
The lute dances throu~h
wisteria
I possess the time to sit with
grass
the hU111Minv,bird weaves
my
aloneness out
late in riight the windows are hungry
W~ rest content with cashews am. limes
I listen for your photograph
as
far as our past
II
In
chains you spoke of technicolor
accusin~ me of the chameleon
While
I
said that you freed the riddle
I
chose the experimental rainbow
you chose the banal circle
Even
natr
whether it
be
by
martyrdom or blasphell\Y
in the presence of grace
a
dull girl
am
I
in twilight
lie aJllid the tattered
.
leaves
-Edgar Marotti
•






Deserted Beaches
T
he dese
r
ted beaches of
a
dreamer
'
s
eyes
ar
e
the
scenes of
my
resting
place
.
-
Ri
c
ha
r
d
Bala






A TRANSC~ENTAL
SUNSET
a disc obscured
an ancient
fiery
ionic column
perhaps
of
the parthenon
engulfed by a vague
electron
cloud
as two approach
-Bryce
Kiernan









Academic Limericks
(Supposed Confessions
of a
Secom
-rank
Sensitive
Professor
)
Reading
.
•
•
Sheaf
upon sheaf of blue-book spaghetti
three hours of mental confetti •••
Squirmin!! and angling.
I fantasy
stranglin~
The vacant dumb prose of
~.ark
,
John
and
Betty
'.:leciding
•
•
•
Throu~h
.
deserts of C's toward some oasis,
I
stur.ible on A's estatic stasis
I S\leat out the
B
's
and
fe.rrl off the
D's
But
fo
r
F's
want
a sure metaphysical basis.
Pronouncing .•.
Said
the
prof,
f
ree
from arry
proclivity,
I judge only a
man's productivity
If
a logical blot
Is where it ought not,
I
pounce
with
complete objectivity.















As
we
quickly
restock our emporium
To
answer their blan:i
moratorium
They
cite
?trshall
}t:I..uhan,
to what
ever
they' re
doing,
An:i
trick out the whole sensorium.
Seving
an:i Waiting
•••
~anging
•
•
•
I won:ier
if
there
are
committees
in
heaven:
Premanent, Platonic structures
of
seven;
getting
up off their ass,
After passing much
g
as,
Do decisions rise like leaven?
{The limerick's
a
noxious, narcotic
form;
A
busy,
poetical whore;
So,
barringsome
great,
cataclysmic
alarin,
I
simply won't
write
aJ'\V
more.)
~
Robert P. lstds -















'
-
~
usic
:
s
~
dne
~s
of
Jo
s
t
h
op
e
s
•••
of
r
ro
r
i
s
e
s
nev
e
r fulfilled
Life:
a
wintPr t
h~
t
rir
e~Ms
o
f
s
pr1
na
longin
g
: the
stirring
of
e
xistence
And those
ways
ri
ppl
in
€ ad
infinit
um
,
Carrying
a
message no
one
will
ever
kno
w.
Are
these
n
ot
es
voices of things
t
hat
were
Or of
things
that long to
be?
Our
dr
eams
are v
o
ices
of
what never was
O
f
what
will
never
be
but was
m
eant to
be
You wond
e
r
:
•••
The music is like
a
lul~aby
A r
ock
ing wave
y
_
ou
wish
you could follow
In its endless
going
•
•
•
Italo Benin






When he comes
to
it
When he comes to
i t
When
it
(moves) owns body
=being= with
him:
Nothing then is
•••
all
water
all
vapor
as a romance.
Possessing it
in its body in
him
the analogy is drawn:
the
new
parallel
(a
direction)
like
brand
new
black lines
criss-crossing
in
space:
parable
and
parallel
meeting
as lovers
in the mind.
-John Darcy-
















EMPI'Y
GRAVE
S
The
s
oil on the botto
m
of
a
n
ewly o
pe
ned grave
r
ic
h,
f
ertile, unique,
revels in the life -
g
ivin
g
yellow
g
lory o
f i
ts
n
ew heat arrl light
The
·
s
un nurses the seed for others, flowers
They live, grow,
gi
ve,
to
g
ether with the soil.
But
the old ones, w
h
o opened the soil
arxl spread the seed
,
destroyed their
own
today.
They measured the new
for a so-named '
'v
alue,
11
am
lowered a crushing darkness in the
m
calling it
·
·"
knowledge" arxl
"
learning
"
All
i
s gone
but they call it
"lifff"
That, which they call
"f'ull!',
is really empty.
=















Una
n
swerable
Where are the soft breasts of
11\'f
mother
upon
whose lap
I
used to lie
in the spr
i
ngtime of
11\'f
sp:h-it
when
I
only
cared for ice-cream
trucks,
sununer so
und
s, winter white, Christmas bells-
and those smells: Sun:iay dinner,
popcorn
living
room
fireplaces surrounded
by
familiar
faces?
Where
are the so.rt breasts of
those
g
irls
upon
whose
lap
I used to
lie-
they'd stroke
11\'f
brow
a.rxi
I
their
thigh
1
Where
are those
firm breasts
of
love
from
which
I
'd
drink the
milk of life
when
the
world was
good
to
me
maey moments ago?
Where are
the so.rt
breasts
of
my
mother
as I
lay
reaching
for
a
bust
sucking the dust
crying for
my
bleeding
lif'e
which was stabbed
by
the knife
of
ll\1
military wife?
-Tom Hackett-













HE THAT BELIEVE.TH NOT
A.
One
Act
Play
by
Joseph Smigelski
Qia:racters:
Hugo, Geoffrey, a stranger, I.Duis
"Inside
the museums-
Infinity goes up on trail:
.
Voices echo 'This is what
Salvation
11111st
be
like after a while'"














S
CENE
m
rn
:
(Complete blackness, save for a small splash of
light upon the two characters.
)
HUGO:
Oh, witness t
h
e distant trees
burning
like Moses' bushl
S
e
e
the spirallin
g
flames advance upon the forest 1
A:re
we not all to be
d
amned?
GEOFFREY
:
Pat
i
ence
am
hope
rrry
frierrl; for there
is l i
g
ht to be seen other than that
HUGO:
of the licking inferno of this ni
g
htl
(A slight pause
)
Ah,
but
would I
be
a tiny squirrel lying molten in the
thic
k
et
.
You see, ev
e
n
in
y
our own heart there
is lack of the slightest hope. Oh
,
how
your words betray you as they
sli
t
he
r
wildly from your lips. It will not
be long before you are among the cursed,
you hypocrite. There will not be a
slither of mercy dealt to you as
you
iray
to your
God
.
Fool - you will fin:i
yourself in the lowest circle of Hades.
For your falseness shall make you
weak










when it comes for you to face death.
~ :
You are wrong
nv
frien:i. The poetry of
HUGO:
life
will
see me through, even if
rey-
words
do in:ieed escape me as if enhanced with
a
life of their own.
<h,
please don't for-
sake me with this dispair, if only for your-
self - for
"
He that believeth not shall be
damned"* - I beg of you,
be
among the
be-
lieving. &bare
rey-
faithl
Your faith is a worthless one based solely
on fear
.
Do you see those coming flames?
If
the night
were calm, your faith would
be
else-
where- your thoughts would be lechery, you
Godless wretch.
Am.
yst you dare to quote the
Scriptures. You are not fit to
be
the squir-
rel you speak of.
GEOFFREY: st.opl st.opt I implore youl It is true that
JIG"
life has
·
not been who~ devoted to good.
It 1s true I've slept
w
ith
maey
women
and
·
have felt the warmth of their flesh. It
is
true I've dealt
!11&!\1
a false blaw to
JIG"
com-
petitors.
Am
on
am
onl
But
now, no more
the retributions; at least n~ froDl an equal
.iirk ivl.
16.

















HUGO
:
-
I
implore
youl
I
implore
youl
(breaks into
tears.)
So
be it.
Weep
no more for
we must
be
truthful
to one
another.
The
flames
sweep nearer with
>
each breath
drawn into our bodies. It
is al-
most
as
if
we are
sucking the
names
foward
an::l
that the only thing to
halt
their progress
·
uould
be
our deaths. Oh comrade, are we losing
our m:i.rrls7 You with
your rampant
words arrl
I
with
nv
rampant thoughts -
is
there any hope
for us?
Are we
to
be
damned?
Are
the
.
names
to
run
amuck aroum
our
feeble frames?
GEOFFREY
:
(
con:J.uering his tears)
Be
it that if
y,ou
die,
I
die also. For what would
be
to this~
existence without
a
companion - this sxist-
ence of blackness in which
I
cannot eiren
behold your
face,
dear frierrl, for the only
sights~ eyes are
allowed
are the flames
am
the rapidly diminishing forest whieh
is
losing more with each passing moment.
•
Oh
fi'ierrl
Hugo,
allow
your lips to
speak
optimistically so that
I
may
bear
this dark-
ness
with
inner light -
with
a
small
seed of
hope
implanted
in
nv
soul
.























HUGO:
I f
aeything,
it is you who implants a
seed
of hope into
11\Y
soul. Let
us
now
join
hards
in
our
darkness so
that together we
~
-
Y
fin::i
a ray of l i
g
ht
in
what se
ems
to
be
such
a mea-
sureless void. Let us
now
put
our pasts be-
hin::i us where
they
duly
belong.
ard
together
face our future with strong
hearts
arr:i
sane
min:isl
QEOFFREY:
Together in::ieed
shall
we
be
from
moment
on-
wardl Curses upon
the one who
ur
ges
the blaze
on its
destructive
path- that blaze which bl.in:ls
us
from all elsel Curse
all
you
burning treesl
I f
you
gad
min:is,
you
I
d
pity us who
stard
here amidst
an
incomprehensible
dest~.
(We see
the spatter of light
g
ently
fade
away as the
stage
yields to
total
darlO'less.
)
(Same)
HUGO:
SCENE TWO
The f'l&m9s
approachl
Closer
ard
closer
they
.
venture.
Oh,
the
sight
of them breald.ng the
chains of
Jq"
mi.n:ll
GEOFFRBI:
Remember
what
has
been said between us.
Courage,
trien:i, courage.
~GO:
Ah, yes,
you
are
right.
You recall to
Jl\1
mini
















rey
own thou
g
hts
-
only
as
one
can
we
d
e
feat
this
dread, as two we are surely
doomed.
(Enter a
srRANGER
)
srRANGER:
F
ellow
mortalsl Of what dread
do
speak?
HUGO:
What in:leed
is
the cause of your fear a.n:i.
consequently, your comradship? Confide in
me.
I
beg of you. for I am alone.
(in
a
state
of surprise
)
See you
not
the blaz-
ing
inferno which cor:quers our ~es? See you
not the
gasping
trees crying so desperately
for
relief?
D
o
not their
sile
nt
screams
in•
·
fiict
in you the deepest horror?
STRANGER:
I fear
that
your words merely fall
at
11\Y'
.
,
feet. I see only
two
men arrl lJ\YSelf starrl-
ing
in almost the absence of
l i
g
ht.
I
can-
not
compreherrl
your
fear
for I
see
no
in-
ferno
am
no sufferin
g
trees.
I
fell
now
as
if
I am among the mad.
G!X>FFREI
:
Curse youl Curse youl Curse youl
Why
must
you
add to our
grief with your
words -
words which would
have
us
believe oursel-
ves insane?
It is you who
are
mad
l
R is
ubo
are
mad
l
It is you
who are mad
1
I I
{again
breaks into tears.
)



















STRANGER:
(in
an
g
er
)
There
are
things
which
you
do not
urrlerstaml Your lives
have been
short -
(stops abruptly, then
continues)
- I have al-
lowed too much to
now
through
I1tf
lips.
(The STRANGm
departs.
The l i
ght
slowly gives
way again
to total
darkness.
)
(Same
)
HUGO:
SCENE
THREE
}ti'
inner
pain
is
straining
nv
will.
I
am
convinced
now more than ever that we are
damned 1 Oh, how
foolish
I was to enkinile
even the slightest hope within
!I\Y'
breast.
He who has come
am
gone
from us does not
see
that which clutches our eyes.
He
does not
see
that of which
we
can
see no other.
Do
you
~
Ne
now how foolish your faith was, or do you
still cling to it as a
child doth
clutch its
ignorant innocence?
GEOFFREY:
Yes, I cling to it -
but
not
as
you
say. We
are not yet consumed
by
these unholy flames.
Besides, have
not moments passed which have
·
_
cast doubts as to their even existing? It is
time we re-9Valuate our perceptions.












HUGO:
There is nothin
g
to re-evaluate
.
These flames-
the very ones which his
eyes
had escaped - are
drawing
nearer; even as I speak to you, they
are creepin
g
upon met
I
am
b
eginning to feel
their heat!
(lets
out an a
g
onizin~
cry.)
(Hugo
falls to the ground in horri;,1e
convulsions,
as
if being burned alive as the light
dims
once again
to naught.)
SCENE
FOUR
(Same.
We
see GEO
F
FREY startling in the flicker of
light
along
with LOUIS
.
)
LOUIS:
Oh, witness the distant trees burning like
Moses' bush! See the spiralling
flames
ad-
vance upon the forestl Are not we all to be
damned?
(The scene reverts
immediately
to total darkness.)
FINIS
')









I
I
I
I
'
\


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