I wrote a poem in the notebook
of my dreams and of course
assumed I’d remember
it in the morning because,
obviously, it was that good.
It had something to do with sharks,
no, martens, or was it electric eels?
It was one of my best, I promise.
What if unicorns only ate gummy bears?
What if two plus two sometimes didn’t equal four?
What if God created penguins to compensate
for the nasty creatures like mosquitoes?
What if everybody sees red differently
and we’ve just learned to call that shade the same thing?
What if termites hate the taste of wood?
What if the Eiffel Tower were inverted into the earth?
Does death wear boots?
Why is the sky blue?
Why do monsters come out at night?
How big is big?
Do dogs go to heaven?
Why don’t any leaves turn purple in the fall?
Do I look like I know the answers?
a bachelor who’s appreciative of dolphins
a dude into handsaws and horror shows
not so much
I couldn’t decide what picture book
to write so I ended up with a circus
in a barnyard starring an octopus
with a stutter due to a horrible
childhood plus a hedgehog sidekick
who encrypts codes for the CIA
Didgeridoo sounds like a euphemism.
Euphemism sounds like a condition involving phlegm.
Automatic sounds overly complicated compared to its meaning.
Hive sounds like hide — is that from experience?
The actuality of sheep trees
blends a blizzard
with marshmallow fluff
and folds in wind