The Wounded Breakfast Poem by Russell Edson

A huge shoe mounts up from the horizon, squealing and grinding forward on small wheels, even as a man sitting to breakfast on his veranda is suddenly engulfed in a great shadow almost the size of the night.
He looks up and sees a huge shoe ponderously mounting out of the earth. Up in the unlaced ankle-part an old woman stands at a helm behind the great tongue curled forward; the thick laces dragging like ships' rope on the ground as the huge thing squeals and grinds forward; children everywhere, they look from the shoelace holes, they crowd about the old woman, even as she pilots this huge shoe over the earth. . .
Soon the huge shoe is descending the opposite horizon, a monstrous snail squealing and grinding into the earth. . .
The man turns to his breakfast again, but sees it's been wounded, the yolk of one of his eggs is bleeding. . .