Sunday, June 1, 2014


The Magic Board

Creaks polyglottally,
when stepped on just the right way,
the dust it spurts
penetrates brain and heart
with mycelial precision,
it's elevator sesames at worlds
whose laws snicker
at talking snakes.

This board disturbs respiration;
THAT one paisies turtles
cruising immensity,
infinitudes of lesser turtles on their backs;
I know, you're bored, but
THIS board laughs
when towers, networks, fall,
when storms tear open boxes, stirring lives,
THIS board tells stories,
big as anything you like,
magical and true.

A reflection on Jane Yolen's poem of the day, with a twist of 042711 added.

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