Hi gang, Jim Fowler here again. This month, I'm going to my surreal side. Here's a prose poem which first appeared in Diner. I tend to rewrite many, many times, until the poem tells me what it wants to say. As other poets have called it, I write the poem from my unconscious side and edit from my conscious side. I can't do both at the same time, thus have to rewrite to find the poem. Enjoy.
A hemlock captures a plastic grocery bag. The wind turns it wrong side out. The grocery store’s inside the bag. The customers drive around and around the parking lot looking for the way out. The cart-boy stops collecting carts, stares into the sky. The customers march up and down the parking lot singing, if you want to be free, beep your horn, beep your horn. Beeping rises out of the bag. The hemlock limb does not bend. The wind drops four needles and two hemlock-cones into the bag. The beeping stops.