ACKNOWLEDGMENT

Keeping time with me

Walking on the other side

Of the narrow street 

Pazuzu, the evil god

Who guards from evil, 

Nods and lifts one hand. 

His muzzle is grey. His wings 

Drip with recent rain. 

Some day I'll ask him

"Why does a god with wings

Choose not to fly?"

ONE OF MY FATHER'S BROTHERS

Until he died, my uncle Harry

Drank tea with his eyes shut 

Knowing by the taste whether 

It had been served in a blue cup

Towards the end he grew uncertain

As to the exact shade.

THEOLOGY

The One-Dimensional God

Is a point who, by Its nature,

Cannot understand anything

Which isn’t It.

The Two-Dimensional God

Would help if She could

But cannot get Her arms

Around a problem. Also,

When She turns sideways

She disappears.

The Four-Dimensional God

Will arrive with answers

To everything a hundred years

Before you were born or

Eighteen months after you died.

The Three-Dimensional God

Had a very nice run but,

Wanted for questioning by the police,

Has been lying doggo.

If you see Him, be cautious,

Make no sign you know Him.

REFLECTION OF THE MOON

Afloat in a shallow bowl 

She thinks "That one

Swimming in the sky? 

Obviously an impostor."

SUBSTANCE

Angels can make bodies, I've read 

From almost anything but few

And none with whom I'm acquainted 

Can make them from nothing.

This morning there's just enough water

To make two cups of coffee and 

An angel who hovers over the sink

Complaining in a beautiful voice 

That I've left the dishes unwashed

And made her vaporous and small.

Li

The new god doesn't 

Demand anything. If

You post a prayer he

May see it. So far as

Is known he

Has no determinate 

Power. He makes no

Promises, no threats,

And can, it seems,

Be trusted.

CURRENT

My reflection stares

"Go back!" he shouts urgently

"You're standing too close!"

THINKING ABOUT PAZUZU

The god of this day

Is Pazuzu

A god of wind and drought 

And locusts. He is

The once and future

King of Demons. 

He protects men, 

Especially children,

Against evils 

Worse than him.

Though he has large strong wings, Pazuzu 

Seldom flies. Though man-shaped, his head

Is that of a dog. By great effort he

Has taught himself to see colors;

He is not sure he sees them correctly.

Thanks to a long-forgotten contract

Assyrian demons have free will. Created 

To rend and tear, his talons can also,

Though awkwardly, hold a stylus. 

It is sometimes strangely comforting 

To invoke his help in French:

Aidez-moi, Pazuzu!

WHY THINGS ARE AS THEY ARE

If cats didn't drag it into the world 

There'd be no reality left. If dogs 

Didn't whine in their sleep and chase

Rabbits our dreams would turn on us.

If the Lost Dauphin was found the gates

Of the Great City would be locked.

If hearts decided to obey, hands

Would be forced to turn traitor.

SCENE

Since ghosts needn't obey

Rules of social distancing 

They stand in clusters

Gossiping uproariously

Like the birds, the absence

Of most living folk 

Has emboldened them. How 

They appreciate daylight!

My own dead nod to me

But do not approach.

TRADITIONS

As usual, the wicked son blesses the matzoh;

As usual, the one too young to ask asks anyway;

As usual, Egyptian ghosts troop in when we say

Let all who are hungry come and eat with us!

One of them tells the joke he always tells

About being both a soldier and his parents’

First born so that he really should have been

Killed twice. He says it all happened so long ago

He no longer remembers how he died.

AD HOC

Put beyond a baby’s reach a turbanned Knight,

Two fat-bellied Gods of Fortune, a fox-faced gargoyle

With wings and a red and yellow Ganesha

Perch companionably on the shelf

Above the desk where I type. Near them,

A figure of Kanzeon Bosatsu, Goddess of Mercy,

Lies on her side because her porcelain head

Has come detached. This day, in this City,

Many who saw the sun rise will not see it set.

In emergencies, prayers should be addressed

To whatever gods and spirits are at hand.

APPARITION

Comes my Grandfather Joe --

The artificer, the changeling,

Small and dapper and deft 

Easy to lose in a family 

Of large, looseboned folk.

I should recall his voice?

Soft then; unaccented, 

His words always clear

But not many. He thought

Three sentences ahead

So sometimes answered

Things you hadn't said.

He was the runt, the youngest 

The one born in America.

Not a coward but wary,

Light on his feet. Shout "Run!"

And he'd be off, gone

As if he'd never been there 

(Had been in a way not there) 

He was patient

As a steel spring. A bit twisted 

Not a criminal but always 

Looking for an edge. 

When he broke his brothers 

And sisters mended him

Kindly folk, but not skilled.

If he'd stayed in the Army

He'd have been the sergeant 

Who doesn't much like his men

But sullenly keeps them alive

By tricks and turns and something 

Quite similar to magic.