Imagine apple orchards without trees
was not a dream. How do you make make do?
Some conversations lead to more like few.
Like thoughtful absence, yes. Then fingers keys.
Like turning eavesdrop into speech with please
excuse, at times I find the self see-through.
Here one who captions every picture who?
Here one who asks are there no more degrees
on this? Then hurls the oven through the wall.
Whatever you’ve been building, brother, needs
to break itself itself. Imagine legs,
now using them how saunter rhymes with brawl.
Why here’s the dancer who has led, who leads?
A commonality was begged. Like begs.

Originally printed in Spinning Jenny. Copyright © 2010 by Samuel Amadon. Used with the permission of the author.