And the dust and fog are shovelled off on the wind—

There will sink over our empty epitaphs

a shiver of moonshafts

a line of moonslants.

Biography

A biography, sirs, should begin—with the breath of a man

when his eyes first meet the light of day—then working on

through to the death when the light of day is gone:

so the biography then is finished—unless you reverse the order

and begin with the death and work back to the birth—

starting the life with a coffin, moving back to a cradle—

in which case, sirs, the biography has arrived, is completed

when you have your subject born, except for ancestry, lineage,

forbears, pedigree, blood, breed, bones, backgrounds—

and these, sirs, may be carried far.

Breathing Tokens

1

You must expect to be in several lost causes

before you die.

Why blame your father and mother for your being

born; how could they help what they were doing?

And their fathers and mothers farther back? Can we

say they could help what they were doing?

Why rebuke old barns the wind has not yet blown away?

Why call down anathema on weather lacking ears to hear

your opinion of it?

Are there historic moments when old Mother Justice, blind-

folded so she can look and weigh without prejudice

Should make an entry and say with a low contralto of

pause and finality, “Everybody is wrong and

nobody is to blame?”

2

There’s no harm in trying.

Nothing can harm you till it comes.

And it may never come.

Or if it comes it is something else again.

And those who say, “I’ll try anything once,”

often try nothing twice, three times,

arriving late at the gate of dreams worth dying for.

3

Be a leopard: set aside six minutes a day: count your spots.

Try rubbing out the spots: see how it works.

Write box car numbers on the white spots.

Put sevens and elevens on the black spots.

Say out loud, “I am a Numbah One Leopard—

“I was not born a two spot: hear me, heeyah me, I am Numbah

One.”

Of course, Mistah Man, this is out of your class.

You are not so silly as to sit counting your spots.

You would not be saying, “Heeyah me, I am Numbah One.”

Or be a giraffe and say:

“This neck is beyond question to identify me if I get lost”

Or: “My necklength is fixed by law and is therefore proper.”

Yes be a giraffe: you got a right to try it.

Look down longnecked on those born shortnecked.

Chew the choice leaves of trees: tell others to eat grass.

Of course, Mistah Man, you draw elegant distinctions.

4

Be a zebra: wear stripes

Cultivate the sport model look.

Let others place their bets on whether you are

a white jackass with black stripes or vice versa.

Wear anything you want to wear.

Or wear what everybody is wearing.

Be the father of five alligators, five sharks.

Teach the little ones to take care of their teeth