The mirror shrugged, the sky blew shut, and you were gone.
He laid an egg every year. Every year a poppy in a ditch.
Now look! the plant said, and grew.
Tooth, tooth soup. 77 white sharks.
Rain in September. Checking if the cactus got wet. Checking again.
“The crab cut the fish.” Discuss in three pieces.
Behind the dead tree, I ate honey and grass.
One Line Poems
27 June 2005