Encyclopedia Bonus

 

        for Bruce Hartman

With every set they bought, we gave them coupons.

Each coupon let them write in with a question

which I would answer, drafting each an essay

I'd mail back. I can tell you all about

the difference between her parturition

and Mary's conception, who invented rock,

and how you really ought to say Uranus.

Omniscience means knowing where to find things.

Of course I found the ones who asked me "Why?"

They felt secure in asking why God made

liver flukes and whether predestination

required them ask me whether they

were bound to ask about predestination.

I didn't mind. I find no end in asking.

I learned to look it all up somewhere else.

That left me lots of time in which to read.

This Red Rose

 

from These Denver Odes

This red rose is perfect today,
Celinda. You, too. Its dewy
petals spread symmetrically
like—anyway, the rose unfolds;
and, at this moment, nothing could be
more like a rose than this rose. You, too.

Twilight soon. The chilly garden
will house a lesser rose, hunching
now, color leaching at its day's end.
You, Celinda, too. Forget-me-nots
last longer, stay neat. Prissy bores.

The Bear and the Goat will gather
over our houses after we
vacate them; and the rose knows no
second summer. You, too. Nor I.

The Museum of Science and Nature

 

Near the ceiling, mute in the dark, the columns

Still are complexly carved, no one to see

How pineapple chased pomegranate round

A checkered brede forever. Workmen died.

New stairs expose manual prayer made

Visible. God and joy, some mason said.

Do you want any more dumplings? asked his wife,

Reminding him that stone dead hath no fellow.

These lamps will help you trace and scrutinize

The capital embroidery, no record

Of labor's names. Perhaps, your program says,

Magic propitiates the gods of fruit.

Sad Stories/Death of Kings

 Let us not decorate the doom of kings

Whose bubbes forecast for them great events.

They mostly whined about the dearth of gold,

Misplaced dominions, and the gaucheries

Of bathrobes. Celebrate the concubines,

Whose cheeks, at least, were pink at either end.

A woman camped outside the coffee shop,

Atop a mountain of her own debris,

Swears she was once the Queen of Shangri-La.

No need to disagree. She crossed her heart,

Whispering to her phone, pennons at dawn

Creased by a zephyr, yaks upon the green

Below the castle wall, some blend of blue.

She's got a swatch she'll show you, the same shade.

When Lettuce Leaves

 

When rutabagas win the prize

    at flower shows, when tubers bat

coquettish eyes,

    I'll think of you, remember that

it all was well, we both were kind.

    When lovers cross their legs and read,

perhaps I'll find

    that you are all I ever need,

if dust greens grass, if darkness clouds

happy virgins in bed asleep,

if lost in crowds,

lovers recall they could not keep

some vow they made and feel just fine.

    When camels dance on tippy-toe.

When gum-trees pine.

    When lovers love, not just for show.

The Future of Eztinct Birds

Extinct, the birds are full of woe,

Serried like bowling pins.  How could

The nevermore be sad, dodo
A shadow in a shadowed wood?

Why do you say that I am real,
But we are not? You have my word,
I am as dumbstruck as you feel,
Singing the song an absent bird,

Succeeded, sang. If what we say
Endures beyond the tumbled trees,
We still would ride, like birds, away
Upon an undocumented breeze.