Thursday, 23 September 2021

F Fic, Non-fic

Poetry by M.A. Istvan Jr.

image M.A. poetry

Stained Glass

Stained glass does not taint the sun’s light.

Stained glass unlocks some of its plenitude.

Realizing this need not hamper your motivation

to get outside of your walled-in-hole on occasion.

Why do many feel a need to scorn stained glass,

scorn what they are used to, in order to move on

to something different? No wonder former lovers

so often cannot work together, love each other

in new ways, even when they have children.

Such ones, melodramatic from their ignorance,

will look suspiciously on someone who, needing

to escape the stained glass dungeon, speaks of how

stained glass unlocks some of the beauty of light.



Is Even Prayer for the Good Wrong?

Most think it wrong to pray that God

make bad things happen: lightning bolting

babies, say. But since God is all-perfect,

some think it wrong to pray that God

make good things happen. For a being

all-good, all-knowing, and all-powerful


will do whatever is best regardless.

Thus to pray for something to happen

that God would not have picked to happen

is to pray for something not best, and that

would be to pray for something bad.—

What is not best need not be bad, though.


Of course, to pray for what is not the best

is to pray for less goodness, which is wrong.

But God would understand that we are finite,

our knowledge of grand pictures incomplete. 

We intend for more goodness, no less.

That, in the end, makes all the difference.



It Is Only His Human Side Speaking”

The leader supposed to be God incarnate

insists that he is not. In not believing him,

monks venerating him as God blaspheme

through veneration. In not believing him,

monks venerating him as God venerate

through blasphemy. In not believing him,

they show that they believe him. For God,

as they know, would not be mistaken or lie.

God knows himself and he would not insist

just to play humble. They are acting, then,

as if he is not God. In not believing him,

they show that they believe him, against

what they want to do even as it is precisely

what they want to do. In not believing him,

their trusting in their religion over him is
their trusting in him over their religion.

M. A. ISTVAN JR., an addict of the TV sitcom Night Court, will always be surrounded with people and substances of ill repute. He does have a steady day job, however. A soap and lotion peddler on Jamaica Avenue in Queens, he is the man calling out “Shea Butter Butter, Blaaaack Soap.” His work has been criticized for its almost single-minded focus on equestrian themes, its lack of allegorical quality, and its overreaching fidelity to artistic and intellectual precedents. Visit his page at

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