While in the garden, the door banged shut.  Had it been in the kitchen the door would have stayed open because of the possibilities of visitors, good coffee, sweet rolls, but garden offered only stinging wasps, borer bees, long lines of ants and the terror of termites.  One can hardly blame the door.  Personally, I only go out bathed in eucalyptus, swathed in cotton, a keen eye on the apricot pug snuffling in the leaves which rustle with displeasure.

(with thanks to the Kindle dictionary example of “anacoluthon.”  Imagine the possibilities of poems with misplaced grammatical sequence.  It makes me joyful simply to contemplate.  100 poems?  I’ve got this!  Kindle says: a sentence or construction that lacks grammatical sequence, such as while in the garden, the door banged shut.)

For those of you interested in a good overview of prose poems, what they are, what they aren’t, what no one agrees on about them (which is just about everything), I suggest “The Rose Metal Press Field Guide to Prose Poetry.”  I have it on Kindle which makes it easy to look up words when the academic writers start throwing around terms I’ve never heard.  LIke “anacoluthon.”  K through twelve and finishing undergrad from Trinity U, Catholic school vocabulary, grammar and spelling notwithstanding.