Wednesday, December 3, 2025

DREAMLIFE

 

When I was fifteen or so I had a series

Of the most boring dreams imaginable --

Worse, even, than Prince Genji's dream

About having fallen asleep. In my dreams

Quite ordinary things happened -- I went to school

And came home. The things I learned

Were plausible; I remained fully dressed,

Never found I had to take a test in a room

That hid itself. I did exactly as well on dream tests

As I did on real ones. My friends behaved

As they usually did. One of them told me

His sister was getting married. (If she'd been three

I might have said "I'm dreaming," but she was 26.)

Perhaps these dreams were rejected drafts

For my actual days. No harm was done; I just have

Clear memories of things that never happened.

Monday, December 1, 2025

WHAT YOU NEED TO KNOW ABOUT MY GRANDMOTHER AND HER DAUGHTERS

 

Esther was an accomplished woman who could

Make noodles from scratch or learn a language

From her children's books or safely use for years

A kitchen knife that had a curse on it. When she died

Her four surviving daughters -- who got their noodles

From boxes -- decided the best thing to do

Would be to bury the knife and the second best thing

Would be to not tell their brothers where they buried it.

Wednesday, November 26, 2025

DUST

 

I don't know what Heaven's like

When you see it but my Heaven

Is filled with dust -- dust on the ground

And on the immortal wheels which

Turn and turn and must keep turning.

It slows-filters from the dusklit sky, lighting

On wings and halos, on harps and horns.

It isn't glorious (as many things in Heaven are)

Nor terrible (as some things in Heaven are);

It's the same dust you might see anywhere on Earth

Resting on the doorsills in an old house

Covering the floor of the box room

Hiding, almost, a small green idol

Lost long ago in another place entirely.

Monday, November 24, 2025

MAKING IT CLEAR

 

Under the former dispensation the Shadow of God

Was just that -- a shadow, though one of

Particular weight and substance not the one-ply

Sort of thing must people drag around with them.

It had free will and, when God wasn't using it,

A life of its own -- much of it, alas, spent 

Among alewives and tosspots and in places

Of low repute. People wary of approaching God

Would seek out His shadow who, for a drink

Or a meal or smile would offer advice 

Or, once in a very great while, a miracle.


Dispensations pass; the new one

Includes the Angel of Clarification whose job

Is to insert (in parentheses) explanations

That words don't mean what they say

As in "Safe in God's hands (not that He has hands)"

Or "Tremble before God's Wrath (not that He feels wrath"

Or "In the Heart of God (not that He has a heart)."

The Shadow of God resents this and every time

The Angel approaches him with parentheses

Gives him so fierce a look that the Angel,

Pretending he hasn't noticed him, 

Asks the nearest alewife for a stiff drink

(Not that angels have money).

Friday, November 21, 2025

AMONG THE IMMORTALS

 

The annual meeting of

The Thirty-Six Immortals

Of Japanese Poetry with

The Thirty-Six Female Immortals

Of Japanese Poetry always features

A baseball game after lunch.

Ono No Komachi is, of course

Both an Immortal and a Female Immortal;

Last year, she pitched for both sides.

Facing herself from the batter's box

She called "Umpire, attend closely-

There is bad blood between us;

Keep a sharp eye out for beanballs!"

Wednesday, November 19, 2025

GUARDS

 

Like the old, New Heaven 

Goes on forever; the guards

March through the dust -- 

Well, some of them march

Others amble or mosey or

Sidle or shuffle or breakdance or

Walk on their hands -- 

Looking for something

They can call a border.

Occasionally one of them --

Mutters "what made us think

'Center everywhere,

Circumference nowhere' 
Could possibly be a good idea?"

Monday, November 17, 2025

PREDECESSOR

 

Before Death was Death Death

Didn't ride a bone horse or

Carry a scythe. Instead there was

A ragged old woman who did the job

When she found time for it, stuffing souls

Into a patched coarse-woven sack.

Sometimes, she begged or told stories

To unseen audiences. In season

She'd pick hops or beans from dawn

To dusk; no one could die then until the moon

And stars showed themselves plain in the sky.