GONE

I think I can
pinpoint the exact
moment I sensed
your tense shifting

from present to
past. I had
asked you a
rhetorical question,

expecting no answer.
You answered it
with a simultaneous
shaking and nodding

of the head from up
to one side to gone.

POSTCONTEMPORARY

A new school of
poetry, called tentatively
"postcontemporary", is
distinguished by the

words it refuses to
use. In place of words
it uses the heads
of headless hummingbirds

flying through the room
at the precise moment the
poem is being either
"written" or tossed

into a wastebasket
for safekeeping.

SEASONAL

A pair of black
headlights at noon
announces the end
of summer. Dark

helicopters circle
overhead, drawing
attention to the
unavoidable accident

autumn is. Halloween
dons a new
costume, woven
of worn-out ideas.

Winter hesitates for
what seemed like a second.

TWO

When one mirror
faces another
mirror, both begin
reflecting on

reflection and what
purpose, if any, it
serves in the overall
scheme of things.

If you place an
object, any object,
between them,
they change

their minds into
photographic memories.

MASTER OF CEREMONIES SQUARED

Apparently some
sub-atomic particles
have been caught
traveling in excess

of the posted speed
limit of light. A motorcycle
cop traveling behind
them (at the speed

of hope) testified
in court that he
had been unable
to chase down the

particles in time
for the Last Judgment.

RELATIONSHIPS

I've always felt
there must be a
relationship between
the fear of heights,

acrophobia, and
the fear of depths,
megalomania. Many
wonder why the two

don't cancel each other
out, the way large
and small do by
remaining medium-sized,

the way left and right
do by refusing to budge.

AGAIN

Many are born again,
but few are chosen
(for reasons I'd rather
not go into here).

If you think you may
have been born again,
stare into the mirror
for however long it

takes you to realize
how foolish you look.
Then pinch yourself.
If you still don't care

what time it is, you
have been born again.