I have discovered a new poet who has written a book of "character" poems. They are weird and wonderful. Read for yourself:
A mirthy owl stands past breathing.
It is a plate-glass rescue
Of the ten thousand things.
Martha knew it once, came
To her own conclusions.
Then her spirit cried for respite
And release. There was no
Other season for the blatant cross-
Road of the yellow trees.
There was no other, Martha
Knew as she flew to the giant
Warmth in the desert of the real.
-- Noelle Kocot