There’s a big drop off near the stone stairs
so my heart always races as I grasp the tree
and make the turn to step down.
The presentation of lemons is luscious
and beautiful but l’ll be honest:
I don’t care for lemonade or lemon chicken
so what would I do with all the lemons?
A robot monster carried the woman away
but I want to know how it was able to
scoop her off her feet and what plans
did the beast have for her? Mating?
Was she to be dinner?
Pages of lace and well-lit bosoms
and it’s the same now as 1,000 years ago
with variable levels of sand and oil.
Displacing one woman for another
is almost funny except when you’re one
of the women and it’s still funny but
in a way that tears your heart apart.
A lake an ocean a river a stream and
it’s like fire crackling standing twisting
in the air in the imagined confines
that are assembled each time we turn
inwards instead of outwards. Alone.
It’s funny how much time unbelievers
spend trying to reason with the faithful;
do they really think reason will work
in a world that is like a Dali cartoon?
The image of meadows and hazy smiles
blends with the memory of gears and levers
and I think I’m confused about my dreams.
The Word Rummager 
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