To say
That you could never disappoint me
Is just to say you haven’t yet
And then extrapolate.
Of course you could.
Oh, when I think of all the ways you could
Undo me! It almost makes me weep
From the sheer foolish love of what you are so far,
My true love, my millstone.
I could go north to Gushan temple, or west to Jiating.
I could. But here… here, I am between the calm water and the drifting clouds,
Where the young orioles squabble over perches in the sun,
Where the swallows have returned, and now are harvesting the spring mud.
Unruly flowers sprang up while I was looking elsewhere,
While my horse waded through the new grass.
No, I’ll go east again, where I long to wander
Beneath the green poplars, on White Sand Trail.
Yaitse said:
I see the footprints
Running here and there.
Give them to me,
Those two skinny boys!
White Shell Woman said:
The prints like little feet,
I make them with my fist’s edge,
Scatter them all around the place.
It’s better than living alone.
Changing Woman said:
Go back to the mountains, Yaitse,
Break your teeth on stones.
There’s nothing for you here,
Nothing you have not ruined.
Stumbling through the grounds at sunrise,
With dew-damp pollen clinging to my ragged pants cuffs
And having left all my friends behind,
I found myself here.
Beauty amazes me!
Charms hanging in the doorway!
Beauty amazes me!
I’ll dance with the altar-cloth!
Beautiful all that lies before me!
Beautiful all that creeps up behind!
Beautiful, every side I turn to!
I turn, and turn, and turn!
So here I am wandering around
In the house of happiness,
In the house of long life
That no one enters alive.
Four days ago
These women dreamed in the sunlight
And now there are babies
Wriggling at their breasts.
Four days ago
These were babies crying
And now they are running everywhere
Playing huntsman.
Four days ago
These were boys playing
And now they practice shooting
And ask about their father.
Changing Woman said:
Such a dream I had.
The Sun himself took me as I slept!
I would not have thought him
Such a careful lover.
White Shell Woman said:
I slept, and as I slept
Old Sun, that sly fucker,
Came down and slipped it in me.
I woke still wet.
There they go again, stupid birds.
They’ve been flying up and down the Ridge
All fall.
As if that would bring him back.
If you believe in fairies, they will show up sooner or later.
However, because fairies do not believe in Time,
They may come long after you have stopped believing in them.
In fact this is the most likely thing.
Fairies are both curious and easily bored.
They are fascinated by objects of all kinds.
For example, they are fascinated by clothes, although
It is a fact that fairies do not ultimately care for clothes.
However, because they are curious,
They may try on all of yours,
Then discard them on the floor next to the hamper
Or maybe somewhere else
Which is in fact the most likely thing, because
Fairies do not believe in Order.
Very few people know this about fairies,
Mostly they assume that fairies are just very hard to please.
Veery and Vole and the Vinegar Fly
Decided to go to the top of the sky.
But Vole couldn’t fly, though of course he would try;
“Do not think us unkind,” Veery said with a sigh,
“We must leave you behind!” And they bade him Good-bye.
And then Vinegar Fly – though of course he could fly –
Couldn’t fly very fast; couldn’t fly very high.
He grew weary, and cried out to Veery, “Please try
To go slower, and lower!” But Veery said, “I
Am a high-flying bird, and I cannot comply!”
And so Veery went on all alone — which is why
Veery and Vole and the Vinegar Fly
Do not get along.
And that is my song.
When a baby meets a baby
Coming through the rye
Says the baby to the baby
I must poke you in the eye.
When a baby meets a baby
Walking through the wheat
Says the baby to the baby
I must tread upon your feet
When a baby meets a baby
And the baby says Hello
They may play until the baby says
It’s time for you to go.
When a baby meets a baby
Coming through the corn
Says the baby to the baby
You will wish you weren’t born
When a baby meets a baby
And the babies start to play
They will play until the baby says
It’s time to go away.
So when a baby meets a baby
Coming through the rye
Says the baby to the baby
Better pass the baby by.
Bag of Anything 