The Backward Tide

Vintage Words


Raindrops are falling up and into

the clouds while geese fly

upsidedown to get their bearings.

The sun set this morning, it was

a strange day when it rose at ten

o'clock at night.


My hair is in grown and my brain

is staging a two poster protest. The

newsboy is handing out black words

printed on black paper, and my shoes

have all shrunk two inches

but my feet still fit comfortably.


Alice would be at home here; cards

can actually talk and want out

of their particular containment. As

I entered the basement at noon

the trash can said, "I am in search

of a poet. Know any?"






Author's Notes/Comments: 

The challenge to write a nonsense poem - met! - slc

View allets's Full Portfolio