Doug Ramspeck

One time we were returning
solar lawn lamps to Menards.  
Imagine the eyelid of the numinous
suddenly opening.  The filaments
of air heating up and vibrating.
Then there was that strange sound
like a bassoon.  We were at Sears
buying a water heater:
everyone looked up as though
a marching band were about
to high-step through the ether.
The great striptease.  The milksnake
shedding something more
than just its skin.  Then there was
that morning I saw a funnel of air swirl
old leaves across the river.
That was nothing.  Now the molecules
themselves are breakdancing.
Euclidean space is shimmering
into a sudden singularity.
And you step into it
and disappear.






The title came first. I awoke one morning and the words were floating amid the flotsam of sleep. I didn't know what they meant or why they were bobbing there in the detritus, though I did know I couldn't do much about it right then because I had to get up and go to work. I wrote down the title on a notecard and placed it atop my computer keyboard. That evening I began to write so I could find out what the words meant and why they had been cast into that waking sea.