BREAKING THE LAW

 

The purpose, old Ruskin said, of Art

Is to arrest a sunset. Never mind the charge;

We'll figure one out later. Mixed, unlicensed colors

Have smeared streaks across the sky?

Rely on it; something illegal's happened!

ACTOR

 

An ancient Greek actor, if he'd read the manuals,

Spent hours before performing lying

On his back, summoning the voice

Of the character he was going to play. 

He'd lie down again afterwards,

Letting the voice and character go.

This was a dangerous moment; 

An interruption might leave him half Orestes

Or two-thirds Queen Jocasta.

 

AVE

 

His wife had little money so the tombstone 

Was roughly made and the lettering's uneven.

After two thousand years, though, it still

Wishes you well, passerby, and wants you to know

That Stracco the gladiator fought fairly, won eight fights,

And would've won nine but for a treacherous judge.

Inter Deos Minores

 

Portunalis was the god

Of keys. Or, some say,

Of harbors or gates

Or perhaps the warehouses

Where the Romans kept wheat.

There's no record of anyone

Ever praying to him nor 

Sending him thanks for 

A found key or because

Their stored wheat stayed dry.

Forget about sacrifices! His flamen --

The Flamen Portunalis -- 

Had only one job which was

Once a year to ceremonially grease 

The weapons held by a statue

Of Quirinus, a more important god.

That a poem's now been comissioned

For Portunalis puzzles me but,

Though I write poems, I don't know

Why most of them are written.

PARTNERS

 

When I was in college I wrote

Any number of poems in which Death and I

Were close friends. In some we rode motorcycles;

(He'd trouble keeping his robe from getting tangled;

The wind blew his cowl back as we sped along.)

In others we wandered or looked for work 

Or called each other on the phone or had fights.

I haven't written like that in years

Content to deal with younger Deaths,

Either children or young businessmen

Who'd feel ridiculous holding a scythe. 

REMINDING

 

Ono No Komachi, standing by the river,

Informs the air that the spring rains

Are three weeks over-due.

The Master of Rain smacks his head,

Saying "Fool of an Immortal!"

SHADOW TALK

 

My Grandfather Joe returned

From the Great War with a stranger's shadow.

It mimicked him fairly well but sometimes.

Lost in thought, would keep on imitating

Some gesture after Joe had finished.

It didn't speak a word of Yiddish until Mabel,

Joe's sister-in-law, taught it a few commands

Nemt di fis arop funem tish! Take your feet off the table!

Es nisht di kats esn! Don't eat the cat's food!

Her aoyf tsu pruvn makhn di tsayt loyfn tsuri!

Stop trying to make Time run backwards!