TODAY'S

There is a poem written 

For you alone. It solves 

All your mysteries 

And answers the questions 

You should have asked.

Count yourself fortunate;

This is not that poem.

 

UXORES

The secondary wife sits outside of Heaven

Selling muffins and buns from a basket.

The tertiary wife can weave any pattern

But only with her eyes tightly shut.

The quaternary wife can, when the moon

Is full, juggle four open bottles filled

With red wine and not spill a drop.

The quinary wife disappeared ages ago.

The senary and septenary wives 

Have detective licenses and intend

To find her. There is no octonary wife;

The nonary wife is a ventriloquist.

SPIDERS

Whenever He visited Norfolk 

(Which wasn't often; the wet weather 

Depressed Him) the God of Jonathan Edwards

Lodged with James Woodforde's God,

Spending hours glumly watching the rain. 

The Two of Them spent long evenings

Crafting miniature bespoke miracles or 

Debating the proper use of spiders. 

Jonathan Edward's God insisted

Spiders were meant to be held over 

Huge fires with gloating detestation,

Symbols for the infinite hatred 

He felt for mankind. Woodforde's God

Rather liked spiders. Also people.

PROGRESS

 

A thrifty spirit

Gather substances

Finds himself real

As pale light

On wind-touched water.

Perhaps, in a while

Home-seeking shadows, 

Who have no homes,

Will spare memories

Of heavy coins

Or of an old

Ten dollar bill

Loosed from an envelope

Plan and gather

But spend sometimes 

Funds are swiftmelting

At last there may be

Memories to furnish 

A slender man

With sufficient store

To maintain a used

But serviceable reflection.

 

 

 

ARISTI CTHONIA

Among the ancient dead

Much rejoicing --Persephone,

Long missing, has returned!

True, she's decided to retain

The form of a cat but

Who can dictate to a goddess 

How she should appear?

As befits, she is a pretty cat

And quite friendly. Most shades 

Are pleased when she interrupts

Their suffering with nudges;

Some few find it undignified

For Hell's queen to purr

When her head is skritched

By the memory of fingers.

 

FOUND IN THE DIARY OF PARSON JAMES WOODFORDE

I caught a remarkable 

Large spider in my Wash Place

This morning and put him 

In a small glass decanter 

And fed him with some bread

And intend keeping him.

HISTORY

On April 15, 1778 two pigs 

Living with Parson James Woodforde 

Drank most of a barrel of beer

As Woodforde wrote in his diary 

"I never saw Piggs so drunk in my life"

(What sort of life, do you suppose,

Makes a parson able to speak assuredly 

On the comparative drunkenness of pigs?)

That same day, John Adams wrote 

Inquiring after a pair of his son's pants 

Possibly left behind at a friend's house.

If found, wrote Adams, give the pants 

To the poor after taking from the waistband 

The eight or more guineas I hid there. 

Woodforde's pigs still staggered 

On the morning of April 16th but later

They were tolerably sober. 

TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES

In place of my order of fine words 

There came a parcel of factory seconds  

Hastily jumbled together and, I think,

Damaged in transit. When shoved  

Into rough arrangements, they 

Immediately broke ranks, insisting 

On not meaning what I wanted them to.

Please be patient; while negotiations 

Are in process oafish servitors

Will pass among you carrying

Empty trays and broken glasses.

 

VOLUME

After my father died many of his books

Came to live with me. Some of them 

Settled in comfortably, finding places 

Among there peers, making friends.

Others held themselves sternly aloof.

Wherever I put them they'd complain

They were misfiled or had been

Hidden deliberately behind others. A set

Of six yellow volumes -- S. D. Gotein's

A Mediterranean Society -- never spoke but

Whenever I separated them found their way

Back together. If placed in the back row 

Of double shelved books they'd push 

Those in front of them to the floor. Today

I picked up volume one. It said

"Almost eleven years he's been dead;

Suddenly now you decide to read me?"

ASSIGNMENT

God, almost sure that He

Did not make Baba Yaga, 

Has asked Leonard Fliedner,

My old high school principal,

To investigate. As Baba Yaga

Often shows up in my dreams

Dr. Fliedner, sometimes with 

A silver-shot cape draped

Over his high shoulders or

Disguised as himself, takes

Whatever part is available 

In order to observe her. 

Most of his roles are minor 

But his performance as

Slocum, Lord of the Owls,

Won strong reviews.

BAROQUE ASSUMPTION

In Egid Quirin Asam's statue

(Surely that name alone 

Is worth the price of the poem)

Mary's assumption has run 

Into problems. The angels --

Just two of them and undersized --

Are quite plainly struggling 

To hoist her heavenwards.

Mary, looking annoyed, 

Has raised one hand to try

Conjuring up a flying cab

To take her home. Soon,

She'll try Jedi mind tricks 

"This is not the Mother of God

You're looking for"

EX MACHINA

The machine appears 

As scheduled at the end

Of Act Three but

The wrong god

Steps out. "Give me,"

He says,"a reason 

To make things end

Happily.EX MACHINA

SUPPLY

Needing to get through customs  

The very old muse has brought 

Just the space between words