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By Rae Armantrout
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Audio Poem of the Day — Real. Machine-transcribed; use the interactive transcript above to jump the player to any line.
0:00I'm Ray Armitrout and I'm recording from Everett Washington. This poem is called Real. Real. One. We show her Disney films and read her fairy tales. When she asks if magic's real, we say no. Not the kindly teapot with the elephant trunks bout or the squeezable keychain globe. Two. Yet tales grow from new heads, which are somehow able to recall where shocks were delivered once upon a time. Before the bodies were severed. Three. No. Men don't fly. Snakes won't grow from women's heads, no matter what is done to them. There are no kings in the dead world.
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