BlankSlate

"NEW BLANK DOCUMENT."
Great foe of the studious.
My battle, tonight.

A Gardener at My University

He cuts the grass, he weeds the flowerbeds.
He sings--
a language I know, but do not understand.
'Don't stop,' I implore silently--
more to God than to him.

Frivolity, or Unpolished Verse (or what you will)

If wishes were horses we’d have meat on the table: An Ode
To my Muse, Absurditia

If I were queen of the earth and all were mine,
I would make thee my steward, and the care of it thine.
I would bestow upon thee bounteous gifts—
First: legs only otherwise got by lifts.
And then, to further the growth of thy weal,
I would give thee buns of steel.
With a manly chest and a beauteous face
You would fill my extenuous court with wondrous grace.
I would rule all the world from my exalted state
And have thee ever near to quench the hunger of eye’s pate.
But ‘tis a cruel world indeed, we are ord’nary people
And as that be the case
Yours is the face
That ne’er will I meet ‘neath the steeple.


In Defense of Wishes as Horses

Brevity being the soul of wit,
Life on a swinging hire wire:
Bring me a rod of purest gold
to call on the muse of fire.

Be not so hasty to judge, good sir,
In metre and rhyme apoplectic.
A laugh in the face of the world absurd
Affords to make life less hectic.

Intimations of Immortality

I saw a rose in our Kitchen Garden one night.

The sun set at the Getty Museum.

Everything grew above our heads

that day at the Huntington Library and Gardens,

and it was glorious to feel so small.