The ventriloquist’s vines fled to an address on the floor of a cumulus pond. The forest formed gills. The tentacles muttered. Eat a bee. Try to project the tiniest star deep beneath this fence. The ravaged shadows repaired in the shade. The numb panorama rewound.
Copyright @ 2014 by Eric Baus. Used with permission of the author. This poem appeared in Poem-a-Day on September 2, 2014.