By Rolf Potts

One look at the globe
and it’s obvious:
the world is too steep.

You should always
be thinking of something
to grab hold of.


Everything has been stolen
from your life and replaced
with an exact replica.

Looking at a steer and
imagining balls is not
nearly so hard as
looking at balls and
imagining a bull.


An adobe house on the sun
will certainly need
a basement where
the fruit can keep cool.

Your lungs taste like lettuce.


Life should never
turn into a story
you can recite
in your sleep.

Time spent
staring off into space
is an investment
in the soul.


If by chance you forget this
you will fall south
with all the rocks
that were only resting.

I ask only
that you lick the sky
’till the blue is gone.

This poem originally appeared in Zuzu’s Petals Quarterly on September 1, 1998.