Long Good Lonesome Morning

Blue scrub jay gliding
Over the road, left
To right, long ground squirrel
Scampering from right
To left for the Greek

Then the Hebrew text.
Watch for the inky
Black cow sauntering
Straight down the middle
For the translation

Into Chinese, next.
Susans and moonflowers,
Dark eyes, white trumpets
Herald the coming
Of nothing much more

Before they’re nothing.
Smart rabbit, changing
Your mind on a dime.
Don’t feed the ravens.
Not now. Not this time.

You all belong here,
Belong in a poem.
Don’t let anyone
Tell you their meanings
Mean more than you do.

The Endless Monster of Nature Fuses the Art of Monterroso with the Journals of Clive Wearing

Woke up. At last! The dinosaur was there!
Awake, and the dinosaur was there.
Awake at last, and the dinosaur was there.
Woke up. The dinosaur was still there.
Waking, the dinosaur was indeed there.
At last, awake! And the dinosaur there.
No really woke up, and the dinosaur!
Woke, the dinosaur still there. . . .

Once Said

It’s always the season
In which whatever is
Going on cannot last

And will go on leaving
Forever. There are no
Other circumstances

For any survivors
Of life so far. For ghosts,
There’s only the lurking

Among life’s memories
As thoughts reemerging
Under what was once said.