GIRL I KNEW

Alys, who’d once  for seven weeks

Been Queen of the Night, got up

At midnight, at two, at four-thirty

To see how her realm did without her.

Occasionally she'd very slightly

Dim the moon or shift a few stars

Canceling dooms, unfixing destinies

A STORY TOLD IN THE HAARLEMKIRCH

For a long while now God has been leaning His back

Against a pillar in a painting by Pieter Saanredam

Of the Haarlemkirch. (One of the perks and problems 

Of being God is pictures seeming neither more nor less real

Than things built of stone) He stopped by

Early in 1641 and settled Himself next to a tired girl

Sitting on the base of a fat marble column.

To improve the moment, God began telling her a story

Which, after many unexpected turns and twists,

Has turned into you; God is making you up

As He goes along. After vamping for the last few years

He's really proud of what He's about to do with you.

If you weren't already a story told by God

I'd advise you to practice humility and prayer.

MARQUIS

boss i have visited your death mask

and all i can say is that you looked

pretty calm about being dead 

though your lips 

Were a thin crooked line as if

you could have told one 

last joke but decided not to your hair 

was combed very neatly

bunter wrting in the style of archy the cockroach expains to lord peter why hes taken another job

boss said bunter,
no hard feelings but
after playing a
major role in
your first books and
nursing the bad case
of the wimwams you
brought home from
the trenches i
have dwindled to a
mere bit player and so
have accepted the general's
offer to return to
my original role
as a batman if
any mail comes
for me please forward it
to 1778

CONVERGING PARALLELS

When Euclid died he

Became a line running

To infinity which

Sounds good but is really 

Pretty boring. He began

Making stops and hauling

Passengers and freight.

A line running 

To infinity will never 

Get there so it doesn't matter 

How fast it goes or

In what direction or if

It moves at all. Some lines 

Think it best to stand still

Because -- who knows? -- 

Infinity may be 

Looking for them. 

At some undefined point

Euclid was joined by the other

Euclid, of Megara, who

Believed truth would be found 

By exposing untruths.

Euclid of Megara never 

Walked in a straight line.

The books he wrote are lost

It is remembered that he

Would sneak into Athens 

Dressed as a woman.

GATES

A very small angel with a sword

No longer than a needle

Stands outside the gates of paradise.

As always, the sword turns all ways

Not only up and down and around 

All points of the compass but

In directions which lack names

And may only be because this angel

Assumes they do. She

Is the latest of a long series of angels

Who have died on duty or been promoted 

Or went walkabout one day down one 

Of the unnamed directions. The first

Was enormous but everything 

Was bigger then. As do we, angels 

Grow smaller over time. Some day

The angel at the gate will be visible 

Only to the eye of faith and only 

When it squints or looks through a lens.

POEMISH

The grey cat thinks of God, but its shadow 

Calls to you in a hoarse whisper 

"Go home and pack; be prepared to leave 

At a moment's notice." The old tree 

Your grandfather planted interrupts its dying

To mutter that a committee of low gods

Has assembled to argue over your fate.

Aunt Edith, who died before you were born,

Sends you a dream in which the two of you

Find an echo of the lost chord. Later,

She gives a small silver coin to an angel

With blank, unseeing eyes.

RELATIVE

Due to circumstances not likely to be repeated

My mother had, by a five to four vote,

Become God. Technically, this made me

The Son of God. Unfortunately, no salary

Or other perks came with the title. It took weeks

To even get an appointment with Her

Working my way through a phalanx

Of divine relatives. My sister,

The Daughter of God, was busy destroying

Small, barely inhabited planets. Word was

She was in training to oversee

Galaxy-spanning disasters. My grandfather,

The Father of God, was sympathetic

But said she'd never listened to him

Even before she was God. Saint Florence,

The First Cousin of God and Her Secretary,

Finally penciled me in for a late lunch meeting

My mother seemed distracted. She thanked me

For being less troublesome than my brother,

The Older Son of God -- the Village Atheist

For several small Southern towns  -- but said

There were no immediate plans to allow me

The power to perform miracles. Equally,

The forging of nails to crucify me

Had been postponed to an indefinite date.

As I left, Florence gave me a souvenir pen

And a cellophane-wrapped piece of infinity.

CHANCEMET

Perhaps this is God Himself 

Lying on a scrap of cardboard and 

Confused when you wake Him. Why not?

He's not bound by your expectations 

Perhaps He's weary of fear telling him

That she loves Him or love asking

That He refrain, at least for now,

From lifting His hand against us

And sweeping us all away.

AMONG THE GODS

Strictly speaking, the God of Penn Station

Should not have thunderbolts. His remit

Does not include smiting people; at most 

He's allowed to cancel trains, block stairways,

Post confusing signs and grant wishes.

(Wait. The God of Penn Station grants wishes?

What sort of wishes? What are his rates?

Is their a discount for small wishes or

For those who wish to wish in bulk?)

RESPONSIBLE

The God of Penn Station hasn't met

The God of All Things but he's seen Him

Speaking at conferences and conventions.

Apparently, He isn't busy these days

And accepts invitations to gatherings

Of lesser gods. He sits on panels

Telling stories about His youth. Due

To inflation, these stories have grown complex

Not one Eve but troops of her; not one Adam

But an entire kickline, and some that sing bass

In harmony with sweet tenor snake voices.

At a Q and A session the God of Penn Station

Asked for advice on the pigeons who have colonized

Tracks Sixteen, Fifteen and Twelve. God said

Pigeons were not His fault but had been left

From a different creation altogether which,

For obvious reasons, no longer existed.

FOREIGNOR

My grandfather Joe didn’t argue

But went quiet and then quieter still

Until his silence made it difficult

For speech to exist. The animals

You’d have said he most looked like

Was a fox, bright eyes glittering,

Or an unusually kempt crow

Keeping his thoughts to himself

Pulling them out late at night

With only the moon to see him

Counting them, giving them names.

MAINSPRING

When Joe tied a tie with his eyes shut

The ends came out exactly even.

He was bent but worked hard

To seem reliable, respectable.

He could fix any watch or clock.

(His set of beautifully precise tools

Were, I think, for show. I've seen him

Fix broken watches with a butter knife

And some matchsticks.) He knew he'd 

Been overwound and that nothing 

Could be done about it. Put him in

Particolor tights, give him a slapstick 

Set him dancing on a charlatan's stage;

You will say that Arlecchino's older brother,

Glum and desperate, has come back

To demand his place in the commedia.

STARS

Alice the Goon and Ham Gravy,

Bit players in Thimble Theater,

Were for years the stars 

Of a small indy comic. There,

Alice isn't mute but eloquent;

Ham calls himself Harold

And sells strange merchandise 

From a tiny store crammed

Beyond all reason. Everything 

That has ever been lost

Can be found there. Once,

In a classic sequence,  Alice

Found several versions of herself 

Living in Ham's storeroom.

On days they're not playing in Krazy Kat

Offisa Pupp and Kolin Kelly

Offer incisive political commentary

While playing a never-ending game

Of Shaolin dominos.

REFLECT

Drunk, he

Tried to kill 

Himself by

Shooting at his 

Reflection 

In the mirror.

He missed but ever 

After his

Reflection glared

At him even 

When he smiled

Engagingly.