The Tower Journal

Ricky Garni


At the museum, a group of blind people came into the exhibit hall to read the texture of some of the world’s most famous paintings with their fingers. “Definitely the Mona Lisa” one woman said, touching the window of a barn of Andrew Wyeth. The window glowed with a soft mystery of white.


You were so embarrassed about your snoring that you imagined the telephone was ringing and you answered it. The telephone sounded just like someone snoring. You were very irritated. “I wish they wouldn’t keep calling so early in the morning about nothing” you said, and fell back asleep. Suddenly, the telephone rang.


There is a little plant that looks so much like a bicycle, that when a grasshopper climbs onto it, it looks like he is riding a bicycle. Often this plant is by the side of the road, and bicycles ride by quite frequently. When they do, a grasshopper will often hop onto this strange plant, place himself in position, and begin to ride. When there are no bicycles the road disappears, the plant disappears, the grasshopper doesn’t disappear. There will always be grasshoppers. And when the bicycles return, the sky will turn bright, the plants will grow, and everything will be fine. Don’t worry, we will always be here, riding bicycles in the sun. “I will always be!” said the grasshopper.

This is a story that grasshoppers tell their children, rubbing their legs against their tegminas.


Pick me up, listen to me, turn me over, listen to me, understand me. It’s not unlike a porcupine, different at first, but at times surprisingly gentle, oddly shaped as well, and often filled with song.


When you come upon an ‘o’ in a word, slow down, or you will bounce back
to the very beginning of the sentence and have to start again.

When you come upon an ‘a’ in a word, proceed quickly, and do not think
too much about how well you did in high school.

When you come upon a ‘u’ in a word, resist the temptation to turn around
and go in the opposite direction.

When you come upon an ‘i’ in a word, remember that the word is not
talking about you; it’s talking about itself.

When you come upon an ‘e’ in a word, remember: the word is your oyster.


When she asked if I thought her boyfriend should cut her hair I said No, he shouldn’t. It wasn’t until that moment that I realized I wasn’t her boyfriend. If I were, I would have said No, I shouldn’t. If she insisted, we might break up, because I wouldn’t, and then she could ask me the question again: Should my boyfriend cut my hair?

Copyright © 2014 Ricky Garni

Rick GarniRicky Garni is a graphic designer from North Carolina, whose poetry is widely available in print, the Web, and various anthologies. His poetry titles include The Eternal Journals of Crispy Flotilla, Maybe Wavy and The Sea of Kicking Legs;  Jiggle Fest, a collection of short prose, is slated for release in the Winter of 2014.

The Tower Journal
Fall/Winter 2014