Paul walked to the corner store without disappearing.
He bumped into a person in the cereal isle.
No one apologized.
Paul looked for cereal with a circus theme.
He wanted to be a breakfast lion tamer—
not a colorful clown parade.
On his way home he uttered little nonsenses
each time a foot passed over a crack in the sidewalk.
Every fourth crack he uttered a Norwegian nonsense.
He did not worry about his mother’s health
since she passed away three years before.
His feet always landed on solid pavement.
Paul returned home safely.
Sixteen peace doves ate his steps
like bread crumbs.
copyright © 2022 Kenneth P. Gurney
The thrasher’s tweedle-eet
startles me awake.
The apple tree
does not care if I acquire knowledge.
I read each incandescent leaf
of a poetry book
while eating potent cereal
without the fear of added sugars.
There are no curtains to pull aside.
Sunrise invites itself in.
Why do train conductors
not spark and shock people as they take tickets?
Such questions afflict me
in the time between stars and blue sky.
I never call my dog a bad name
because she never calls me a bad name.
When I place my bowl in the sink
my dog knows it’s time to go to the door.
copyright © 2021 Kenneth P. Gurney
My cereal bowl
was shaped from a TV’s flat screen.
This translucent bowl
displays newspaper headlines and video clips.
Only the news. The real news.
It edits out the gossip and fake stuff for me.
I have sugar-coated the news through my cereal
almost every day.
It is odd reading the news
through milk, Captain Crunch and papaya pieces.
When I use my cereal bowl for ice cream
Rachel Maddow comes on.
copyright © 2020 Kenneth P. Gurney