SPEAKING

Dog, I am awake so 

Do not waste your time

Barking at me. Later 

My father, who spoke 

With cats and dogs,

With angels and birds

With trees and golems

With men and women

May turn up in a dream;

He will interpret for us.

ABROAD

That summer I slept

Under a tin roof; rain 

Made early music.

I drank sheep's milk

Rich and quite good

In hot chocolate. 

Two girls sang

Watching lips

To stay in time.

One night I dreamt

I was fighting.

No rules apply

In foreign dreams;

I kicked my opponent 

Who made himself 

Into a wall.

Asked why I limped,

I blamed the wall.

FOR DH

You were the best teller of tales -- not stories --

I've ever known. Since you're dead I will never

Have reason to visit Yakima and will never know

From which small pieces of truth you made 

Better truths, stronger and built to last.

Did you ever teach yourself to see

Your awful hometown as full of wonders?

Just before you died did the Dalai Lama 

Slip into your hand a peacock feather 

Knowing you, of all men, would understand?

TEA

As if he hadn’t been gone for weeks,
Worrying everyone, Satan showed up
Late one afternoon with some tea
He insisted upon brewing himself.
“The thing about God,” he said
“Is that He’s very lonely. In a way
There’s no one but Him. If He wants
To talk, He talks to Himself or
To hypothetical beings. I told Him
It would be a bad idea to create me
That I was sure at worst to rebel
And at best to be a smartass. But

He feared that going on talking to me

When I wasn’t actually there

Might be a sign of madness. Also,

No one can brew tea so well as I.”

FOR AESRED

Being new and

Inexperienced at death

The ghosts take turns 

Mourning each other.

GATHERING

To be at Du Fu's drinking party

Li Po crossed a thousand miles

Old Sin Ju outdid him, though,

Arriving from the land of the dead

Already extremely drunk.

ENCOUNTER

Visiting the grave of my younger self 

I brought some flowers, planning

To speak a few words of polite regret

But there he lay, on top of the ground,

Idly dreaming at half-past noon! Angrily,

I kicked him; if he's going to insist

On being alive he should stop dreaming 

And help with the hard work of being me.

ON THE PROVISIONAL OCEAN

About October 1st 

Water starts to gather 

By month's end

Ships set course for lands 

Which, for a few weeks,

Will be real enough

For God to forget them 

When the cold days come.

CROWS

Seeing a footnote claiming that 

"A morning crow (ashergeratsu)

And an evening crow (yasergeratsu)

Are both just crows," I showed it

To a crow of my acquaintance who said

"Don't believe it. It is now 10 a.m.;

I'm the urbane skeptic to whom you nod

Every day at more or less this time.

The crow who spreads my wings tonight 

Will be a very different bird. If you're wise 

You won't trust him. He's become, I hear,

A prophet; his words coil on themselves.

On the other hand, I believe afternoons

Find here a pleasant, muddle-headed crow

Working hard to feed all three of us."

ASSSUMING

Suppose you're only on duty

As yourself four days a week

So that on the other three days

Someone else plays at being you. 

She's pretty skilled and tries hard

To act as you would; her thoughts 

Are subtly colored to match yours.

Before she leaves, she records her day

So you're able, if you wish, 

To persuade yourself you lived it.

This goes on smoothly for years 

Until the morning you wake up

Three states away, holding a note

That says "We need to talk."

MEMO

If God says "I have chosen

To leave off omnipotence

Forget omniscience, learn 

Not to be omnipresent"

You must, on your honor, say

"This is God still; I cannot

Be mistaken in this."

A PLACE IN THE WORLD

When the beggar died in the barn

Where he'd been allowed to sleep

No one knew his name but it was 

March 1st so they buried him as

"David Smith, a poor wanderer 

Known to God." His shadow

Remained behind, doing odd jobs

On James Oakes' farm. He was called

David Shadow and over the years 

Grew more solid, learned to speak,

And eventually cast his own shadow

Who inherited from him when he died.

A line added to the beggar's stone said

"And his Shadow, respected and mourned."

ATTRIBUTES

After some coffee God pokes at the embers 

Until omniscience catches fire. He remembers

To put on omnipotence -- an old coat, but warm --

And ventures outside where existence waits,

Her coat rough and wet from last night's rain,

Eager to be taken for her morning walk. 

Under their feet, ground conjures itself;

Grudging birds sing and small insects

Flit through the surprised and sudden air