Not sure what this is but it's part of yet another series because that's how I roll, in series:

One day they jumped into the water. They lowered themselves in boxes. They were surrounded by ladders. Everywhere you looked there were ladders and boxes filled with water. This is no way to live. So they dried themselves off and turned into ducklings.

#9 in a series of 44

One thing and another it came out

crooked it came out best

eyes delayed I am surrounded

his breath delayed so long

to get there the door delayed

roof finished and floor.

More Roswell

[scenario in which aliens move among us undetected]

projecting image into mind fluid unrelenting what seen expected deviation unnoticed as in mall so even jostled unnoticed such small feet unnoticed what reached for what currency on elevator reaching seen as wished for never more than never recognized seen as what expected exactly what

Roswell project

[the surviving alien remembers nourishment]

how it would sit in the mouth absorbed through membranes

held against digestive membrane the slow pleasure of it

seeping across digestive membrane

one substance used again and again

so many to nourish such satisfaction seeping inward

shared among such multiple beings all aspects of each other

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I've been working on poems centered on whatever did or didn't happen in/near Roswell NM in June/July 1947. This poem is from the (if any) surviving alien (if any).