Thursday, October 18, 2018


In Marlowe's office
three of the filing cabinets
are empty.
When I become fictional
I mean to use them
to store old moons 
and memories
and donuts.
Will not mind.

Wednesday, October 17, 2018


The nun and the monk
Argued they'd had no choice;
The old well insisted they replay
The centuries-old story.
This excuse was accepted
Their son became
The god of certain fish
(Freshwater trout, mostly.)
His twin sister grew up
The third-most beautiful woman
Of her generation and died young.

Monday, October 15, 2018


When I taught Constitutional Law a djinn
Audited the course, sitting towards the back
When he grew bored he'd animate 
Small men made of fire and send them 
Scurrying around his chair. Sometimes 
They'd wander down the aisle
And strut behind me, imitating my gestures.
I blame this, partly, for the university's 
Refusal to grant me tenure or to now admit
I ever worked there

Friday, October 12, 2018


To get the atmosphere right, John Glassco,
Distinguished Canadian poet and pornographer,
Travelled from 1966 to 1935 to write his memoirs.
He took a room a few blocks away
From  the hospital where his younger self
Was convinced he was dying. He visited 
 One afternoon and made terrible prophecies:
"You will be mayor of a small town in
East Quebec;
You will win the Governor General's Award for poetry."
"Tell me," young John gasped, "tell me that I will still
Write highly stylized fetish poems and novels!"
"You will; they will be published under many pseudonyms."
"It's all right then; I suppose I will have to live."

Thursday, October 11, 2018


Fearing I was missing, God
Took out an ad for my return
Or reliable word of my whereabouts 
In the Wolfenbuttel Aviso
For December 15, 1632

The Thirty Years War was then
An adolescent so God
Wasn't surprised that no one
Had time to tell him
Where I might be found.

Not giving up, He then
Engaged Eugene Francois Vidocq
Who searched Paris from April 1830 
Through July 1831. Vidocq concluded 
I was hiding among the unborn.

Since 1927 Schrodinger's cat
Has, from his box, acted as God's agent
Buying and selling, saving and damning.
He may some day tell God where I am.
Then again, he may not.

Wednesday, October 10, 2018


In 1934 a Persian butterfly flew 
Into a convoluted sentence
Otherwise about a canal
And the tar-stained ghosts
Of ancient sailors; someday
They'll fly off. The sailors 
Will follow, taking the canal,
Leaving an and and an if
And three puzzled adjectives.

Tuesday, October 9, 2018


Every dawn a large angel, his head bent 
To avoid scraping the ceiling, brings Shah Rukh
Six undeniable truths. At dusk a smaller angel
Wraps the truths in black wool and a demon,
Smaller still, carries the truths away.
Once the moon fully rises three old men
Come sit by his bed, whispering lies
So that the Shah can fall asleep at last.