Tuesday's Artists I Love

A Eulogy for Rintrah

"Rintrah roars & shakes his fires in the burden'd air; Hungry clouds swag on the deep."

- William Blake,

The Marriage of Heaven and Hell

Magnus Johnson was one of the first non-theatre majors I met at college. He worked in the bookstore and helped me find what I was looking for. I introduced myself as Andrew and he said "Ah, Andy. You're mentioned in the Bible." I politely smiled, thinking he meant the Apostle Andrew. "'Andy walks with me, Andy talks with me'" he punfully quoted, a huge smile spilling across his lined face. Chuckling, he walked back to the counter.

Magnus told me that same joke no fewer than three times.

Magnus was, I believe, an English major. I seem to recall he had plans to pursue graduate studies in Divinity or Philosophy. At any rate, he was a staple of the English department, and highly regarded by the young Beat influenced poets. Here, after all, was a Vietnam Veteran, a man who had truly done much and seen more. He possessed the wealth of worldly experience that we all desired in the Humanities Department.

He was a nice guy to boot; dependable, trustworthy, and always good for an interesting conversation. I worked with him over the summer doing maintenance at the college. We talked about poetry, theatre, politics . . . you name it. I recall his explanation of the power of words -- the mystical power of words. He held that a word like "THOR" had more inherent power than a word like "carrot". If said with enough conviction, one could bring down the thunder.

We talked about plays and dramatic literature, and he expressed an active interest in writing a play for us crazy misfits in the theatre department to produce guerilla style. It never happened (I wish it had) but Magnus went on to write a couple of dramatic literature-style prose poems that were published in the school's literature magazine the following year.

Here's one of them:

The Northern Powers

for Sigurd and Freya

Heart Dragon

[a spirit of war appearing, wearing Northern battle attire in the

Master's chamber of a forgotten Northern Lord.]

To have been born a pupa;

yet to have gone on-

to become a butterfly!

ah, to have lived to fight

like the ancient Dragons

once did in the skies at night,

Yes, if only as a butterfly-

is to have become a dragon of the heart.

Here spirit force waxes strong

still in the collective will

here character encourages word, deed, and

song.

[disappearing:]

Match after match have I been in

it is the humble who truly win;

time after time,

again and again.

--Magnus Johnson

Magnus died July 9th, 2004 at the age of 50. I like to think that he is in Valhalla right now, shouting down Thor, and preparing to stage a gallant last stand at Ragnarok.

(I'm interested in starting some kind of Yahoo Group to bring together copies of his extant work, and post rememberances of him, etc. If you're a fan and friend of Magnus, drop me a line!)