My Aunt Edith assures me that
If she had lived a while longer she
Would have straightened out
Her brother Harry and bought him ties
That, knowing how to behave, wouldn't
Keep flinging themselves over his shoulder.
"What a pity for him I died so young!"
Though my Uncle Harry wore nice suits,
Dark-colored and a half-size too big,
He never looked entirely present.
A private whirlwind dogged his steps;
Even on windless days his necktie
Would wind up over his right shoulder.
(Always his right; you'd think the left sometimes
But no. Try talking sense to a whirlwind!)
According to Mircea Eliade and others who
Study invisible things Time is available
In two varieties: Ordinary (the one in which
Today will always be yesterday tomorrow)
And Sacred (the one where other rules apply).
An event in sacred time is always happening
For the first time so that Mary is always
Being annunciated to; the Buddha is always
Being suddenly enlightened and some
Poor damned Egyptian soldiers are always
Seeing the Red Sea's walls of water
Crashing down around them
As every angel knows the reason God
Remembers everything is that what He forgets
Never existed. For this reason the savvier members
Of Heaven's hosts mutter their own names sometimes
If they think He's listening and add, perhaps,
A detail or two: "Palaliel; the humorless one
With one blue-green wing and one red,
Trimmed with pale grey rosettes who,
At Your behest, destroyed one-third of Nineveh"
On a rainy Saturday in March Sobek
The Crocodile God and I were in
The Metropolitan Museum. In a case
In Gallery 160 was a small bronze bowl
From Cyprus showing two women
Chatting with a crocodile. One of them
Was either giving him a palm frond
Or getting one from him. Sobek,
Though he admitted the strong resemblance,
Said "There are no crocodiles in Cyprus and I
Have never been there. Some other Sobek, perhaps --
One who is fond of palm fronds."
A Japanese No-Face comes by to announce
There'll be no Annunciation today
Since every available angel has been enlisted
To work on responses to the return of Tiamat
The Primordial Ocean. A light lunch
Will be provided for ticket-holders
And a rain date will be set when, rumors say,
A special guest-star angel may appear
(Unless Tiamat wins. No one seems to know
If Tiamat even has angels.)
A cold morning and the thin-clad oiran
In the courtyard stands waiting by
The giant snowball -- as tall as she is.
Though the men in the museums
Will say rude things of her, she and her friends
Are very great and, when the mood is on them,
Slanted gods. Nothing breaks her calm:
You can find her standing on a giant carp
Reading a letter or drowsing on a flying boat,
The sixth among the Seven Fortunate Gods.
You awake to find a new dresser --
Tall, spindly-legged and covered
With elaborate inlays showing scenes
From the court of the last Ming Emperor --
Has appeared in your room and is refusing
To allow you access to socks or underwear.
Sobek the crocodile god said
"I went by your grandfather's grave
Last week and, seeing some coffin nails
Had worked themselves loose,
I banged them back down
With my fist. Why be a god if one can't
Do the occasional favor for a friend?"
Ofuji, who sells toothbrushes,
And her friend Osen, who works
At a tea house, will, upon request,
Run errands, re-enact scenes from Genji or
Stand in for the gods. Messages
Should be left with Osen's mother who,
For reasons that don't concern you,
Is called Sleeping Dragon Plum Tree.
Is that how they taught you to enter
Someone's house -- walking right through the wall
All iridescent wings and attitude? Go outside
And try again! This is a young girl's room;
Knock -- quietly, not bang bang bang -- and wait
I'll let you know when you can come in.
There ... that was better. Don't loom like that!
Calm yourself. No, I don't want to know why you're here;
Not yet. Tell me first your name. Gabriel?
Fine. No, I'm not the Virgin Mary. She'd an errand;
I'm filling in for her. (There aren't that many flawless women;
We all know each other.) I'm The Woman Standing Under An Umbrella
From the Harunobu print. You're lucky I'm here
It's obvious you're been under-rehearsed.
Now, why are you here? No, wait, don't tell me yet!
Remark upon the weather; ask me what I'm reading;
Offer me a small gift. How should I know what Mary likes?
Pots of basil? Some lilies? Candied walnuts?
You didn't bring anything? Hopeless!
Did all the ept angels have other things to do?
Let's skip ahead; next time remember to bring something.
Now, find your manners and -- calmly, courteously -- tell me
What brings you here today?
If she enters your dream you'll recognize her at once:
Harunobu's Woman Walking Under An Umbrella
She is perfectly at ease, perfectly self-contained.
If she feels like it, she'll leave her umbrella
Propped against a wall -- unlike hers, your dreams
Are full of walls -- in case you need it someday;
She won't miss it. Should she raise her hand just so
An umbrella will appear in it.
Since I left my job I haven’t
Returned to my office or even
Entered the building. Li Po
Says this is not cowardice but
Simple prudence. How awful
To find myself at my desk
Talking on the phone and gesturing
That I should take a seat
Until I’ve time to talk to myself