An Unscientific Experiment

 ​

this is an experimental novel,

it has begun and it will end.

where it goes in between

is the great unknown.

it may be linear or nonlinear,

sequential or not.

this novel is, well,

novel.

this writing may take you under the sea,

deep into a desert mirage,

to Himalayan summits,

or to quiet spots in a secret garden.

there may be blizzards, heatwaves,

forest fires, earthquakes,

volcanoes, tornadoes

or even meteor strikes.

there may be a character, many, or none.

kind or dastardly, innocent or corrupt,

intelligent or clueless,

secular, pious, heroic,

cowardly, charismatic or dull.

so many possibilities!

soldiers, saints,

white whales,

gods, goddesses,

angels, demons,

politicians, suffragettes,

alien beings, honey loving bears,

a librarian or two, or yes!

even a herd of librarians!

this novel may become

a tall tale

or short biopic,

perhaps a trilogy.

it could be logical

or absurd, 

critical or supportive,

abstract or surreal.

it is everything

and

nothing

but potential.

this experiment can take many paths

down hidden trails, 

up stairways to heaven, 

through doors to perception

it might speed along highways to hell,

float on gulf streams,

wander lost in confusing labyrinths,

diagonal alleyways or dead ends.

this novel novel may bring

tears of laughter, rage or sorrow,

possibly fear,  struggle and suffering,

passion, love-at-first-sight, lost loves.

celebration and isolation are certainly possibilities.

this experimental writing

had a beginning,

a middle,

and will end very soon.

you see, this  novel concept died in infancy.

but, do not mourn, for its soul has been reborn

as a nonsensical

stream-of-consciousness poem

masquerading

as an experimental novel.

© 2025 Bruno Talerico 

Stafford challenge day 19/365