by Russell Edson
There was a landscape once in a while where a rock a person and a pebble and will it rain one day, gathered one day to appear.
There was a landscape that became a room to search for a house, to decide to stay there, then to be old in a house it finds.
And so the sun came in a room's window and woke a person who poured coffee out of a cup into his head.
I have no idea why this night suddenly evoked one of Edson's odd prose poems, but there it is. Reality tends to turn into what is not expected. Sometimes I'm glad for that.