The boy on a bicycle
speeds by in a blur, as
a paper airplane drifts
over the dog, curled up,
falling asleep, and
the egg sitting
on the counter
waits patiently
to be cracked open,
like the sun suddenly
rising in the morning.

Six objects in
search of a poem:
an overheated planet,
an obsolete
pencil, a burned-
out light bulb, an
overwhelmed young
woman, an unripe
avocado, and a
selfless form of love.

There was a
snowball fight.
A ****** nose.
A forgotten glove.
The evidence now
under a blanket
of white. Only
partial footprints
remain. Soon they
too will be gone.

The centipede inches
along on the ceiling
as she watches
contemplating its future,
and he sits on the chair
and opens the half-
finished historical novel
which is illuminated by
the artificial overhead
light, while their young
child parts the curtains
and kneels at the window
to gaze upon the night
sky and the brilliant full
moon which appears
to have a human face.

In the explosion the nouns
are blown to pieces—short
words, syllables, and letters
scattered along Main Street.
Action-verbs and state-of-being

verbs are maimed or dead
in large numbers. Forensic
investigators attempting
to reconstruct the original
scene are, so far, unsuccessful.

The great author declares
herself to be a bright white
blank page. The enigmatic
costume designer, La
Gioconda, dresses the entire

cast in bright white attire.
The terrorists: the adjectives
and exclamation points escape
to another realm. Luminous
question-mark-shaped celestial

talent agents hover above the
scene and announce that the
new narrative will be wordless
and staged in the park, among
the saplings and baby strollers.

This new and experimental
production, entitled How It
Starts will begin its run sometime
in the early spring, according
to the publicist Mr O.B. Pieriod.

The drunken clown
breaks his leg as he’s
singing and dancing,
and the bird in the
room sputters, boxed
in, disoriented, as the
brother outside has
his trained ear to the
ground, listening for
their disturbed mother’s
angry mob, coming to
reclaim her lost home.

In the butcher shop
Bob sees Salvador
Dali, who is carving
a life size figure of
a woman from a side
of beef. When finished
Dali whispers in
her ear the question,
“How do I obtain
a clear mind?” Bob and
Dali wait for an
answer. She is silent.
Bob eventually
gives up, but whenever
he visits the butcher
shop he sees Dali,
sitting, his limpid eyes
wide open, waiting
for the answer
from the woman
of his vivid dreams.