For lions and prose poems, from The Rose Metal Press Field Guide to Prose Poetry.

from I stood too close… / by David Keplinger

I stood too close to the lion’s cage and was eaten right up.

For Kandinsky, from poetryfoundation.org. The rest of the poem may be found here: http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/178480.

from Autumn Psalm / by Jacqueline Osherow, b.1956

For this, I would have to be Chinese,
Wang Wei, to be precise, on a mountain,
autumn rain converging on the trees,

a cassia flower nearby, a cloud, a pine,
washerwomen heading home for the day,
my senses and the mountain so entirely in tune

that when my stroke of blue arrives, I’m ready.
Though there is no rain here: the air’s shot through
with gold on golden leaves.

For cemeteries, from The Rose Metal Press Field Guide to Prose Poetry.

from Still Life with Gravestone / by Michael Robins

The meter will soon expire, so move along, move along.

For sleep, from Field Guide to Prose Poetry.

from Wish / by Kathleen McGookey

My wish was short — a blue mitten no larger than a dime, a wish so small.

For leaves, from poetryfoundation.org.

from A Crown of Fall Leaves / by Annie Finch

When autumn gathers, the tree
That the leaves sang
Reddens dark slowly, then, suddenly free,
Turns like a key,
Opening air where they hang

For writing, from Poem-A-Day, poets.org.

from When we are on the right track we are rewarded with joy / by Brian Teare

trying to think and all I come up with is a texture without
       ideas

For UFO’s, from Crab Orchard Review, Vol. 20, No. 2.

from Still Life with X-Files / by Matt Sumpter

He dreams what life had taught him to dream:
baseball, a yard in Rhode Island where the grass

holds the shapes of his feet

For the love of horses, from Poem-A-Day today at poets.org.

from To Bring the Horse Home / by Julie Bruck

A single bed with blanket the color
of factory-sweepings will suffice,
each day shaped to the same arc,
because days can only end when
the lock slides free on the stall’s
Dutch door, and I lead the horse in