​DAIMYO

​
When Burlingame
was Lincoln's envoy
to China

he stopped in Japan
on his way back
to the feuding States
and was given
a bonsai tree
by the Emperor

a Daimyo oak
which he later
presented to
President Lincoln

*

What the faded brass plaque 
doesn't say:

Burlingame
still vigorous in his 40s
masked his hemorrhoids
and diverticulitis
with a tight smile

fixed and unrevealing
as the grin on the face
of the bowing
plant-bearing
aide to the Emperor

who died one month later
from the bite
of a smallpox demon
leaving 5 children fatherless

while Burlingame
stood on the deck
salt spray in bloodshot eyes
Japan vanishing 
behind his back

America waiting 
on the other side 
like a writhing 
hungry dragon

the Daimyo oak
sliding back and forth
on a chestnut table
in the cabin below

passed from hand to hand
generation to generation
never dropped
burned
or blown over

and standing today
in Oakland's Bonsai Garden
a living survivor
of Civil War America

its battered grey trunk
leaning like a passenger
on a great ship

waving a little wild bouquet
of green.

JULY IS FOR JACARANDA


If trees could walk
I'd say this one paid a visit
to the hardware store down the street
bought a bucket of purple primer
got down on its knobby knees
plunged its head in
came up dripping
lumbered back home 
wrapped its roots around
stones and pavers
in front of that
tan turquoise-trimmed bungalow

and stands there pouring 
pools of twilight
onto the astounded sidewalk.





IT WILL HAPPEN TO YOU


Standing on the lurching bus
holding the metal pole

the young man
looks up at me
eyes widening

stands
and gestures to the empty seat

I grin stupidly

he grins stupidly

finally I say
"I'm getting that old, am I?"

he mutters something
about having to get off
in a few stops

I swallow my pride
thank him
and sit down

it feels good to sit

I am 57
my beard more grey
than it was last week

but all the way home
I argue in my head
with that well-meaning
hipster

who has no idea
how young I really am.