GRANDFATHERS

 

Had my Grandfather Max been a messenger

Who traveled like lightning, leaping

From dream to dream carrying vital news

Everyone would have known it. On Saturday mornings

He'd have worn his fulgin cloak and badge of office 

In synagogue; he'd have told wonderful stories

Of his adventures, of things seen on his journeys

And of brave and savage horses, his dear companions.

If my Grandfather Joe had that job, though,

You'd never have known it. His great dark cloak

Would have been hidden when he didn't need it

And, careful man that he was, he'd have arranged

For his shadow to quietly tuck it into his coffin

When the corpse watchers weren't looking.

PASSING THROUGH

 

Just when your dream gets most exciting

Just when, say, you and Chairman Mao,

Having escaped the sheriff, are careening

Through a raging fire down a twisting road 

In a brakeless Model -T, ignore the action

And look at the background. Someone is there

Trying to read a map in the fire's light.

THOSE DAMNED UNACKNOWLEDGED LEGISLATORS OF THE WORLD UP TO THIER OLD TRICKS

Before Andrew Marvell, Time

Walked or sometimes ran about the world

Or strolled if he chose, resting

Under trees or on piles of leaves

Or in the shadows of ruined churches.

Sometimes he'd hitch a ride

On a farmer's cart or a sailor,

Pitying him -- Time is very old --

Would let him sleep on a coil of rope

But dawdling, ambling Time

Seemed undignified to Marvell; somehow --

I can't think where he found the money --

He bought Time a winged chariot

Since which time Time has grown strange

And aloof, seldom talking

To farmers or sailors and only rarely

Lets anyone ride next to him

Or even just stand on the running-board.

B

POSTHUMOUS WORK

 

It seems unlikely that in this life I will

Assume my place with the ragged men

Standing in the street and looking

Into the fire they've made out of boards

And boxes and anything that will burn;

My ghost -- as if he won't have enough troubles! --

Falling heir to this debt may spend some

Coldest night of the year dragging two by fours

(Stolen from an unguarded construction  site)

South along Second Avenue

CORPORATE APOLOGY

 

We're sorry, but Bentzen, the Japanese goddess

In charge of bringing you good fortune took off today

And is sitting on a high branch of a bare tree

Listening to the wind so that the luck we said

Would arrive this afternoon won't. We have no idea

Where she left it. In compensation, please accept,

With our compliments, this unlabeled package

We've had around the warehouse forever.

RESPONSIBILITIES

 

Sobek the Crocodile says that after an apocalypse

The great gods and demons generally stand

Or lie where they've fallen, trying to recall

Which side they were on. Harried ghosts

Circulate among them, passing out licenses

Perversely or at random which is why

He is currently run off his reptilian feet as the god 

Of irrigation, plagues, conjugal love, marquetry,

Mondays from three to five in the morning,

And certain cereal grains while an Ohio woman 

Has two gods and a demon assigned exclusively to her

One to grant her prayers, one to deny them and one

To remind her to feed the cat and check her mail.

HOW SOME POEMS GET WRITTEN

 

While she's not my muse and I

Am not her poet there's a rush order

For six-hundred foot-pounds of poetry

By Monday so she, professional to her

Blunt fingertips, inspires me 

As best she can and refuses my offer

To buy her afterwards. some coffee.

PASSENGERS

 

No one asks a yotaka for a poem

Or expects her to draw pictures;

If she walks by a screen painted gibbons

Do not hand her letters. No afterworld

Claims yotakas. Their ghosts rise at dawn

For long days riding the ferry 

Back and forth across the Sumida River.

EXTRACT FROM "OLD DOC SOBEK'S POCKET COMPENDIUM OF THINGS YOU SHOULD KNOW"

 

The left hand of the healing goddess Abiala

Holds a revolver. Use no extra words praying to her;

If she answers your prayers it is customary

To make her a small gift. A few chocolates

Will be sufficient. Never pray to her twice

On the same day. Do not give her bullets.

UNAMUSED

 

There is no limit to the ingenuity

Of those who hate God. strapping Him

To every bit of space and every morsel

Of time and requiring Him to know

Everything. Imagine being able to see

Utagawa Kuniyoshi's Cat Dressed 

As A Woman Tapping An Octopus 

On The Head and not laughing

Since, before Kuniyoshi was born,

You knew he'd make this picture.

NEW JOB

 

Old man in a hard season

Learns italic hand

Advertises for muse. Thinks

More dignity for starving poet

Than hungry old man.

STORAGE SPACE

 

In the place where his heart once was, the wizard
Keeps old spells, most of them useless and some
Extremely dangerous; he’s puzzled to find
He cannot bear to part with them. He has dreams
In which his teacher’s ghost questions his decision
To put his heart in an unbreakable egg under a silver bird
Nesting on an unscalable tree seven leagues
Past the end of the world. “Such plans,” the ghost says, 
“Never work. Trust me, indignant time will bring the girl
Who climbs the unscalable tree just as the silver bird decides
To return to life and the unhatchable egg 
Hatches. Man, you’ll look like a fool!”  On waking
The wizard checks his conscience— first rousing it
With a hard kick — to see if he’s sorry now 

That he removed his heart to make storage space 

Or that he killed his teacher and is pleased to find

He isn’t. Not a bit.