AMONG THE UNWRITTEN

Picture unwritten poems as a hopeful, shabby lot,
Extras in La Boheme, with eyes keenly focused
On the health of the stars playing Rodolfo or Mimi
Late at night, over coarse wine,

They discuss who might write them into being
"Szymborska? I heard she was dead. Besides,
I don't look good in Polish. There's a Scottish girl
Who might do, but I think she's a bit young for me;
Or then there's always that blog fellow.

His muse tells me he's desperate."

PENN STATION DREAMS

The God of Penn Station has next to no budget

And cannot afford much panoply. He gets catalogs

Offering to customize and sell entire pantheons

Which he seldom reads. Svevo, his assistant,

Carefully files them all against the unlikely day

When the God of Penn Station grows rich.

Since the Station never quite closes its god

Feels it would be improper in him to sleep.

Svevo sleeps for him though, and has his dreams

Writing down each one and sometimes repeating them

When the two of them and Fevrier, who does odd jobs,

Patrol the station around five in the morning.

“You dreamt your mother was a sewing machine;

She seemed happy and asked about you.

You dreamt you and the Gods of the Colosseum

Spent the night in a Roman karaoke bar

Where you sang Rodolfo’s last aria from La Boheme.”

“How was I?” “No Pavarotti, but not terrible.”