DISAPPOINTMENT

 

At the coffee-shop

A meager blue hag

With sharp teeth tells

The folklorist

"I could have been

Baba Yaga but for

My allergy to feathers.

Who knew living in a hut

That walks on chicken legs

Is a requirement of the job

And not just a perk?"

JOBS

According to Volume One of

The New Cambridge 

History of Islam

“Sogdian merchants

Employed Bactrian camels”

This, of course, only applies

To the current world.

In time, Bactrian camels

May employ Sogdian merchants

Though probably not

To carry heavy loads

Across the desert.

Perhaps they will serve

As advisers or jesters 

In the courts of their

Bactrian overlords.

Alas, who really knows

What advice a camel needs

Or what makes him laugh?

 

A GHOST

She notes that the paper she writes on

Is good (better than Emma Vaughan's);

The ink -- clear, dark, blue as she writes -- 

Will darken and become muddy soon.

A steel pen; just enough light to see

The words she writes telling you that,

Whatever future you're from, she

Has no desire to hear your warning.

Pof! She blows out her candle; her hand

Waves the smoke and you away.

SEASONAL REFERENCE

Haiku's green eyes say

Please help; hungry and pregnant

With symbolism.

Epic saunters by

Flings a coin but doesn't look

To see her catch it.

SIGN

 

Even in Eden there is

A billboard. What's more,

Durer has made Adam carry it

Hanging from a stick by a string.

It says "Albertus Durer, 

The Hungarian made this 

In the year 1504." 

The back of the sign 

Probably says "Injured?

Call this number."

SURPLUS

When the saints, performing inventory,  

Reassembled themselves they had

Large numbers of parts left over. St. Thomas

For example, had fifty-six toes; St. Iago had

Almost five hundred teeth. Every single relic

Had worked wonders and now refused

To be decertified. Even those demonstrably 

Nonhuman insisted on their rights so that 

California --that substrate of Heaven --

Is crowded now with patchwork saints 

Hastily run-up and willing to perform

Dubious miracles, no questions asked.

LOSING PLACE

The minor magistrate is drunk

Reeling from the poem 

Of which he is not the star

(Number LII  of Kenneth Rexroth's

100 Poems From the Chinese)

He staggers past Mei Yao Chen

Mourning his dead wife, then,

Three pages later, past the ghost

Of Mei's wife, fumbling in moonlight

In her kit, looking for green thread 

To fix a patch on Mei's coat. 

Tu Fu gives him wine; Li Ching Chao 

Gives him a message for Chu Shu Chen:

Too much time has passed; the wind

Must be forgiven. At last, he falls asleep 

Next to the colophon, murmuring 

"Bembo, you are my only friend."

UP TO YOU

Hovering there it might

Be a crow. Might be

An angel. Unable to decide

It seeks your counsel.

OUTSIDE THE OUDE STADHUIS

By and by these five men will leave

The safety of Saenredam's portico

To enter a poem and perform wonders

One will gesture just so and find 

He grasps a sharp curved sword

That trembles in his hand. Another 

Will throw his hat in the air and see it

Grow wings and fly due west. The one

With the floppy hat will close his eyes

And dream that I'm writing about him.

The last two -- the ones who stand 

So far apart, staring at each other --

Will grasp each other's hands and dance

Until the poem ends and for half an hour more.

 

 

AT LIBERTY

Luideag, formerly the demon haunting 

Lochan Nan Dubh Breac, wishes to announce

That she's at liberty and seeks new employment.

Highly qualified in most aspects of demonry

She is certain to be an asset to any office.

She is described as being "as squalid in appearance

As she is evil in disposition." She generally wears

A ragged coat but is willing to have it mended.

She will answer to Lootchak and promises

To avoid killing moonlit wayfarers 

Unless they insist on asking her

How to pronounce Lochan Nan Dubh Breac.

AMONG THEMSELVES

From three poems away the stone horse -- 

All that's left of the Jade Prince's glory --

Hears the thin notes of a Tatar flute.

Soon, in a page or two,

Tu Fu will pawn his clothes to buy wine.

FOR SOLO BASS VOICE

Death from loneliness

Made Sparafucile and

Set him down to walk

The grey streets of Milan 

Singing his own name.