Readers,  Welcome to an issue of Musea that is introducing a new type of poetry called "VISION" poetry.


WARNING: This is not 'Poetry 101'. This is advanced. Vision Poetry does not rhyme (most of the time), and it's not what you are used to. If for any reason, after reading two or three of these short poems, you don't 'GET IT'; please, fold up the zine , replace it on the stack where you found it, and slowly back away.


Now that we've gotten rid of the neophytes, let's continue.  Vision poems are part koan, part hallucination, part vision, slightly enlightening, and peppered with occasional  eureka moments. They are word pictures, dreams, fantasies, jokes, lightning strikes, and kafkaesque situations.  Read them with a sense of adventure. Then see if the startling images  - somewhat like what a painter might see in his mind before beginning his new work - suggests anything deeper or more profound.  Enjoy and let me hear what you think.




I had a nightmare

that I was trapped

in act two!


As twilight approaches

the sun dims

and the light in the upstairs window

comes on...



I passed

the garden



The eye chart had

made up letters!


X: How high can you count?

Y: Through the elevens.


I switched

to channel "X"

and I was

the TV

and they were

the watchers


I went ahead

and took the toothpaste

and added a year's worth

to my brush


I watched aghast

as she rinsed out

the  water bottle


Forest football


I had them build me

my dream house

and place it over

the river

I told them to add

extra bedrooms

for all the visiting



then and there

I heard and saw

lightning and thunder

all at once


the stone skipped

over the pond

and up, up

to the Moon.


I brought a telescope

to the star crossed lovers

"Look! Look!

I demonstrated

They did and "oohed"...

and shrugged their shoulders

and kissed farewell

forever and ever ...

Fate moved a bead

in another room.


I held the dictionary

and shook it up

all the letters

now out of order


what is this -

the snow is bouncing


the small snake

moved through the dust

writing a question

"Why can I write this?"



for walking sticks


wherever he went

the broomstick would follow


fog cloaks

building after building



with a crown

of woodpeckers


in my copy

of the book

the words get up

and move about


Humptyy Dumpty

versus the Wall

Egg against Brick

a grudge match

Come one

come all

Now it's become



building a staircase

on a gust of wind


everywhere I go

the same pigeon


walls were made

of gates and doors


in the blue swamp

there's still black water

topped with white froth

in overlapping circles


wheat stalks bend

heavy with grain

monks in the temple

bowing down


without being told

the child knows enough

to look up ...

at the Moon.


and the forest was flooded

with overflow from the river

and each tree was topped

by a fidgeting squirrel


rain from the clouds

and above it

light from the Moon


too crowded in the Temple

brain waves bouncing against the walls

like a hive of robotic bees

at full speed ricocheting

Not an inch for contemplation


Blue Mountain has steps

that circle around

but never go up

and never come down


my heart

is not here


birds fly over

beyond them stars


Sun's a stone



not all



hope torments


lightning and thunder

firefly and cricket


Lover's kiss

balloon heads


the way she walked

danced in my head


the path

leads me


Clock maker's heart

goes tick-tock


the giant used people

for clothespins on wash day

the job was boring

but outdoors and good pay.


butterfly lands

and there's a

slight spring

in the flower


Lost at night

in an antique mall

and suddenly a chair

begins to dance


One thousand matches

waiting for a spark


They put the genome of a tractor in a virus

It made a new model but some G's were flat

"Back to the drawing board," said all the engineers.

"And where are the spark plugs to run it? Where's that?"

Said the virus now tired and upset


Moon water

very rare

iced to perfection

then bottled here.

take a sip

tastes so fine


every time

Moon water

Crater Wine


on the last night here

she went through the gate

but left it ajar

with a glimpse beyond


r r r r

a a a a

i i i i

n n n n


Hawk dives

claws out

hits the lake

tears through the water

rises up

wake settles

curves around

wings extended


someone YELLED,

"If these walls could talk,"

and I in a maze

heard a deafening din


I stared at the painting

with my friend

She turned and said,

"They've hung it backwards!

the GOOD side of the work

is facing the wall!"



I saw out of the void

a Johnny Appleseed

tall as ten suns

walking through space

pulling from his sack

a single red apple

placing it with care

one to a planet

then moving on

never ending...


"This is where short

turns into tall,"

said the tour guide

as he held up his hand


little lantern

copies the Moon

Bright! Bright! Bright!

out too soon.


the raven rises

and disappears

the night noises



daydreaming ...

a milky window

a light fog

a misty rain


Dr. Frankenstein

needed a friend

so he went to his lab

and built one.


my daydream

one cloud


Oops! Tom's in orbit

around Venus again!


I watch the Moon

the Moon watches me

we stare and stare

till I fall asleep


I bought a Zen compass.

Instead of a dial,

there was a wheel!


I pray that bread

tastes like cake

I pray to sleep

I pray to wake


my boat is small

the sea is wide


star gazing ...

mind goes numb

finger painting

on the Moon


he time travelled

from the Middle Ages

and was most impressed

by salt and oranges


I'm allergic

to spaghetti!


maybe a clown

in the circus,

maybe not


dark night with

storms lashing

and one lighthouse left


I saw all the world

wearing one overcoat

against the cold


In the middle of

an empty field

I looked up to see

10,000 white owls

circling as one

a halo over head


can one word hold all the stars?


a field of wishes

tucked into bottles


city without buildings

country without hills


I am running on ground

that is running the other way


Counting and counting

we came to a number

that was the last one.

We had to start over.


there was a drought

over all the land

they built a city

out of paper.

It rose enough

to scrape the sky

and flutter in the

twilight breezes


I took a picture frame

and hoisted it up

after a few minutes

the Moon left the sky

and entered the painting -

a masterpiece!


the psychic sighed

"Oh me oh my

I haven't slept

for the next two weeks!"


the Moon

went up the stairs

The Moon

went down the stairs


in Heaven

everyone rides a bike

the sound of their bells

can be deafening


He was one

who read so much

he learned Braille

to read in the dark


the stone cathedral

sways for an instant


ten miles of birds

flying over my head

Sing! Sing!

Ye choir of angels!


this tea

sweetens itself!


when there's more

books than words


this rose

has bloomed again!!!


and I saw an orbiting row of chairs

each with a poet sitting there

gazing with awe at his slice of the Moon

raised and ready, pen in hand


vacuuming a dust storm


that combine

has run amok

carving dogma

in the crops


this room so vast

inside was out


be like the ducks

when waves lift up,

rise into the air

on hidden wings


I am a messenger

with important information

but lost in a maze

and no one is waiting


floating on the wind

sliding over the blossoms



my water is too diluted!"


whirlwind of leaves



the other

white noise


a faint trail

through the graveyard



with the lark


from her deathbed

she watches the dust

dancing in and out

of the light


late night in a hotel

watching the lamp post below

people walk into the light

go through it and out again


"What's that ribbon tied to

the handle of the tea kettle for?"

"It's the antennae."


lightning, lightning, lightning,

... but no thunder


trains in a row

all going west

a thousand tracks

all parallel

all packed with -

trains going west


clear dye


Don't float off the ground

It's soooo annoying!


"Wink, Wink, & Nod"

Attorneys at Law


When I push up

on THIS elevator

it starts to 'whoosh'

but never stops

after an hour

I look outside

and see only stars,

stars everywhere


I went in

the religious section

and came out

a different door.


jagged baton

conducting the thunder


what's at the end

of this long aisle?


a breeze tickles

my eyelashes

a whiff of mystery

is left in the air


I play badminton

with the Moon

holding a mirror

in my hand


"Explore the Mansion,"

said the butler.

"But beware the red room.

It contains the 'apple'.


Children -

Make way for the stars!!!!!


Typewriter look!

More poems!







Musea is

Tom Hendricks

4000 Hawthorne #5

Dallas Texas 75219


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