There are white dots in the distance, and the white dots shook against the horizon line. Windmill turned out on the periphery, from that goldish outside area the worker girl, enters the mill. Eyes, nose lit up in the light and she had grain. The windmill grinds this. Everyone with their own skill. Staring skitterer in the highest window, seeing through the turning sails, looked down as she went to work.

Still Eating Oranges

A fillet of cod, formaldehyde, dry paraffin and the frizzling spark of LIFE! “My ichthyoidic friend, be born!” A filthy light emanated from the alchemist’s melting pot. A rumbling jittered dust and books and a sandwich loose and sent them floorward to the limestone. In the pot flopped the impossible: a fish complete and alive. “Why do I live?” asked the fish as dawn peeked through an arrowslit. “I desire a companion in adventure,” said the alchemist.

The fish stared. “When my mustache is grown, I will go.” The alchemist raised his hands in exasperation—a mustache?! Already hairs had begun to appear, but a full mustache would take weeks to grow. He would have to wait. The alchemist set himself to righting the fallen books and scrolls and potions and food to the shelves.

Still Eating Oranges

Who keeps leaving sharp objects in the street at the corner of Vine and Fifth? Gray William.

Lives in a blanket, dances on bonethin legs. Gray William breaks into, homes to, break vases, into pieces, who knows it? The bloated hatted thing from the corner of an eye. Known by its disease. Calls to the children, c’mon kids, they slunch off into the night. Bridget thought for sure she saw something over there.

Still Eating Oranges

On the night of animals mama and papa and me would all hold hands in the middle of the house. The animals came from the wild to check on us, so they looked right in to the windows for a very long time. I could see the shape of animal faces right outside and I saw the black eyes of an antelope once because of the moon. There was always the sound like a drum beating out in the dust. We stood very still holding hands when the animals came. We had to put out all the lights inside that could hurt their eyes. Mama and papa held my hands tight always. They said that the animals just wanted to check on us, just like they did great-great grandpapa, just like they had always checked on our community.

Still Eating Oranges

Little old Billy was playing and he fell down a hole, a big hole, deeper than anyone knew. He fell for a long time into a strange place, where houses were inside-out and animals were purple. It was hard to live there. Billy, Billy fell into the garden of a man who could speak forwards, backwards and diagonally. He had rainbow petunias that Billy ran through, and Ms. Clock kept ringing, ringing but no one understood. Billy got out of the confusion, no one could believe it, the people all looked like stardust…

In dreams, things are different.

Still Eating Oranges