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ABOUTBlack Lamb was created to offer the discerning reader a stimulating selection of excellent original writing. Published monthly. (more) FREE SAMPLE COPYEmail us. There is absolutely no obligation. SUBSCRIBESupport this independently published
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Archive for the 'Lossius' CategoryTyranny and the boxMarch 1st, 2006 BY LORENTZ LOSSIUS The other day I watched the film Good Night and Good Luck. In the opening scene Edward R. Murrow, the famous World War II correspondent and television journalist, stands at a podium to accept an award from his peers. The film then flashes back a few years to the time of the McCarthy hearings, and Murrow’s current affairs program exposing McCarthy, or more to the point, where he allowed McCarthy to expose himself. At the time CBS was under commercial and political pressure to toe the sponsors’ line. The film is about a brief few years, a simpler time when truth seekers had a voice within a new medium, and when the forces that nourished and opposed them at the same time were easier to distinguish. But at the beginning of the film, at the podium accepting his award, Murrow laments the rot that has set in already. I am astounded, as he is speaking in 1958, soon after the beginning of the television age.
Posted by: The Editors First and last ChristmasDecember 1st, 2004 BY LORENTZ LOSSIUS Silent wooded hills surround our valley of fields and farm buildings in Maridalen, the Vale of Mary, a few miles above Oslo. Near where the road divides and hems each forested slope sit the ruined remains of an ancient church abandoned after the Black Death: a thick stone wall lanced with Romanesque apertures and outlines of rubble. In the summertime the site rests on a mound above a waving meadow of gold at the northern tip of the lake, but now most of The seasons express themselves intensely here. Halfway through spring, masses of tiny violet and white flowers push themselves up through gobs and rivulets of sunny slush. Summer is for bike riding and berry hunting in the forest; tiny strawberries, then red currants, blueberries and hazelnuts. Days are long and yellow as the grass. We go to bed with the sun still up, heavy curtains drawn against the blue.
Posted by: The Editors The woman boreDecember 1st, 2004 BY LORENTZ LOSSIUS The woman bore her last child alone Cradled in the shadow She no longer strains to hear the feathery voice But our tears are living water The dust under her feet spills over the coffin — Jacumé, September 1990 •
Posted by: The Editors Author profileDecember 1st, 2002 Lorentz Lossius has been writing poetry, prose and music for years, and for the past three has been scribbling for Black Lamb. A native of Trondheim, Norway, he is currently watering his roots back in Oslo, after having gone full circle over forty years through Europe, Asia, Australia, and the United States. His Black Lamb column was called Walkabout and is now called Wondering Gentile.
Posted by: The Editors
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