4
I was visited by an idea for a poem I could never write

cigarette smoke wafted in in moderation

(the right amount)

big receptacles on wheels were wheeled about

making their nervous chatter known

3
I'd been told there were 32 versions of Jesus

& thought of you as I stood in the kitchen

staring down into the teapot

gently punching teabags about with my spoon

2
the changeling wore dark glasses, took a taxicab

the oracle pried open the subway doors

he used his flute

1
a hand is being moved like a wand

when I slap this ham, open your eyes