Divine Epigrams: On the Miracle of the Multiplied Loaves
See here an easy feast that knows no wound,
That under hunger’ s teeth will needs be sound;
A subtle harvest of unbounded bread,
What would ye more? Here food itself is fed.
Divine Epigrams: Samson to his Delilah
Could not once blinding me, cruel, suffice?
When first I look’ d on thee, I lost mine eyes.
Divorced Fathers and Pizza Crusts
The connection between divorced fathers and pizza crusts
is understandable. The divorced father does not cook
confidently. He wants his kid to enjoy dinner.
The entire weekend is supposed to be fun. Kids love
pizza. For some reason involving soft warmth and malleability
kids approve of melted cheese on pizza
years before they will tolerate cheese in other situations.
So the divorced father takes the kid and the kid's friend
out for pizza. The kids eat much faster than the dad.
Before the dad has finished his second slice,
Do Not Stand At My Grave and Weep
Do not stand at my grave and weep.
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there. I did not die.
Do Not!
Do not despair of man, and do not scold him,
Who are you that you should so lightly hold him?
Are you not also a man, and in your heart
Are there not warlike thoughts and fear and smart?
Are you not also afraid and in fear cruel,
Do you not think of yourself as usual,
Faint for ambition, desire to be loved,
Prick at a virtuous thought by beauty moved?
Doctor Foster
Doctor Foster went to Gloucester,
In a shower of rain;
He stepped in a puddle,
Right up to his middle,
And never went there again.
Dog Music
Amongst dogs are listeners and singers.
My big dog sang with me so purely,
puckering her ruffled lips into an O,
beginning with small, swallowing sounds
like Coltrane musing, then rising to power
and resonance, gulping air to continue —
her passion and sense of flawless form —
singing not with me, but for the art of dogs.
We joined in many fine songs — "Stardust,"
"Naima," "The Trout," "My Rosary," "Perdido."
She was a great master and died young,
leaving me with unrelieved grief,
her talents known to only a few.
Dogs Are Shakespearean, Children Are Strangers
Dogs are Shakespearean, children are strangers.
Let Freud and Wordsworth discuss the child,
Angels and Platonists shall judge the dog,
The running dog, who paused, distending nostrils,
Then barked and wailed; the boy who pinched his sister,
The little girl who sang the song from Twelfth Night,
As if she understood the wind and rain,
The dog who moaned, hearing the violins in concert.
— O I am sad when I see dogs or children!
Dol and Roger
Nay, Doll, quoth Roger, now you're caught,
I'll never let you go
Till you consent, — To what? says Doll,
Zounds, Doll, why, do'stn't know?
She faintly screamed, and vowed she would
If hurt, cry out aloud;
Ne'er fear, says he, then seized the fair,
She sighed — and sighed — and vowed, —
A'nt I a Man, quoth Roger, ha!
Me you need never doubt,
Now did I hurt you, Doll? quoth he,
Or, pray? says Doll, did I cry out?
Don Giovanni
Women asleep. Carlight,
east red and west white.
Women, and men made of them,
and lambs in their droves, and power lines east
to the women-made men and women of men,
when a man is a sum
of what women he knows, and I
blurred my vision till I
saw a woman and lambs in the streets,
west red and white east,
and I wanted to eat. Women and men,
don’ t fear me, I am
a hand come to wake her. Red
in the west says
woman is man is woman is man.