Perigee: Publication for the Arts (Poetry, Fiction, Non-Fiction, Photograhy, Art)

Do you feel, as I do, that nothing makes much sense in this post-election season? It seems that I have one of those medieval torture devices—a crude one inch wide metal band, rusty, of course—attached around my head. When I try to make sense of the voting patterns, the campaigns, the obvious (which makes no sense whatsoever), this vise is tighten and brains squirt out of my ears. Is the same happening with you? What amazes me in its inconsistency is this god-driven, faith based business, which broken down into component parts is riddled with illogic. For example, suppose you are ardently, fiercely pro-life, that abortion is a heinous crime, that it is the taking of life. Be assured that you are also very much a supporter of the death penalty. Isn't that the taking of life? Oops. Just lost more brains. Then there is the idea that what the Village Idiot does is what god calls on him to do. All of it, no matter how mean-spirited, no matter the environmental, the economic, the social cost. Anne Lamott, a very devout, born-again Christian, has a great passage in her book Bird by Bird: "My priest friend Tom said you can safely assume you've created God in your image when it turns out that God hates all the same people you do." Did the Village Idiot ever think about this?

More illogic: that the poor, the economically disadvantaged, especially in the middle west, would think that the V.I walks on water and thus vote against their own interest; that the business in Iraq has so weakened our military that it will never recover, yet Rummy marches on much pleased as the V.I. gives him command, over and over; that the morale of the troops (I have Marines and spouses in my classes) is very low; that the troops are suffering the same syndromes as Vietnam; that the falling enlistment rates are surely leading to a reinstitution of the draft; that we are now recruiting in countries such as Colombia and Guatemala and giving those who sign up to join our army a bonus of more money than their families have ever seen. Oops. Just lost some more brains.

And here we sit, my husband, me, our children and our grandchildren, wondering what is next. This is a very profound period of time and so little apparent room for real conversation. Perhaps the best thing to do is to buy an island off of the coast of British Columbia and engage disaffected military to man the borders. All of you are welcome to join us. My two archangels (soon to be joined by another one) are a bit young to consider this, but they will see the light. We shall hunker down. Oh, and create god in my image.

While you ponder the above rather bleak passage, enjoy this issue of Perigee. We certainly do and were thrilled with the quality of the submissions. This is one place where there is room for conversation of all stripes, where we can and do listen, where we can think. So there is something good going on. Perhaps it is time to leave the Beltway behind. Will those encased there follow our lead? Let's try it.