There in the clearing stood …
the most beautiful cow he had ever seen;
a statue of Buddha silent and grim;
three wolves, stock still and howling as one;
a woman, stark naked and bristling with rage;
a man, wary, wondering, and looking about;
an alien spaceship, pulsing with light;
a semi truck idling and smelling of diesel;
circus tent billowing brightly in the wind;
the answer at last to every last dream.

Nine different visions from nine different humans,
none of them seeing what the others had seen.
Which held the truth? Were the other eight wrong?
On the fourteenth line, no answer, but surely a poem.

For my next trick,
I say with aplomb and a sigh,
I kiss all the girls
And then make them cry.

I have no solution to anyone’s woes,
And here, in the twilight of daylight, I froze.
There, in the glow of a galloping sun,
I said a short prayer for my every one,

And if you might say that this poem makes no sense,
I must plead insanity as my defense,
For if I could say I am of sound mind,
I would not be writing poems of this kind.