Literature

Someone stuck a dropped raven
Feather in a pot of dirt
For decoration, maybe,

Or for commemoration,
Perfectly upright, quill first.
So there it is, sun or rain,

Buried in snow all winter,
Hasn’t toppled over yet—
Feather like a ruler,

Like a stake among the plants.
You can stare and stare at it,
Draw inferences from it.

Maybe the raven still lives.
Maybe the feather will stand years.
Detritus, this universe.

Describe the Dragon’s Teeth

Why, exactly, a dragon?
That the spring of Ares would
Be guarded by a dragon,

A fire-breathing one, at that,
Makes good sense. But Athena
Having Cadmus plant the teeth

Seems odd. Retroactively,
The aristocrats of Thebes
Maybe just wanted to claim

Descent from such a dragon,
Sacred guard of the war god,
But the idea that people

Could spring specifically from
Planted teeth of a fabled
And supernatural beast

Feels like it has a treasure
Secreted in it—people
Are not like other creatures,

Not once talking, certainly
Not once well-armed with writing.
Thebes was built on Linear B.

Condensed

Death is to dying as
God is to the unknown,
An idea about something

You viscerally feel,
A tale, a character,
Embodied argument,

A play in pantomime
Persons donning costumes
To act out all your dread,

But not a thing itself,
Nothing you can measure
Or hold up to the light—

And frankly, all ideas,
All poems, words, all of us,
Are equally distilled

And condensed equations
For what you sense but can’t,
But won’t be, not as dust.

A Note to the New Ambassador

Fear’s more transmissible than death,

As you know, since you’re here, despite

Being scared to death half your life.

The body’s quick to feel afraid

But stubbornly resists dying.

You don’t think enough about this.

You’re easily carried away

By those core animal habits—

To be frightened and resilient—

One adaptation preventing

The other from comforting you.

They’re both survival strategies,

Both ancient, whereas you, poor soul,

Are only their ambassador,

Weak and recently appointed.

Command the body to fear not.

Command the heart to simply stop.

Feel your pulse surge over the top.

If Only You Enjoyed Disaster

One way to be elusive
Is to avoid any news.
Can what you ignore touch you?

It can, and it will, and not
In any way you’ll enjoy.
Better try the other way,

Keeping inconspicuous,
While watching out all the while.
This does give some protection

Against nasty surprises,
At the cost of constant dread.
Or you can just sit and wait,

Be a fool, be contented,
Dread nothing, avoid nothing,
And be humiliated.

Mind’s Midnight House Holds On

It’s not our house.
Midnights, it makes
Conversation,
Sotto voce,

All by itself.
It’s not your house.
It’s its own house,
A standing wave

Of wood and nails
Glass and plaster,
Metals, plastic,
More and more mold.

If people keep
Buying it and
Living in it,
It will hold on.