a city boy's guide to the south

Welcome, friend, to the ramblings of a southerner by choice.

Saturday, June 04, 2005

If brocade fabric were beef

I'd starve, yet
why not decorate with meat?

Much swill can distill
in a sea trunk
while you still pack high C in A minor.

Studio, studio
apartment, flat-foot walk-up,
five stories high, I
offer you decor of meat,

the longtime trappings of forebears
and homeless, pennywise suits.

A pre-cambrian floor art exhibit,
this stain, this daub,
this bobble
of applesauce
radiates out in relief

and reminds me last week I drank
a frapped mocha
no wait, it was two weeks ago.

Oh, stay! Please stay! We'll play
one game,
one game of ravioli niblick!

Don't bogey that dumpling; that pastry,
though tasty,
is riped and ambitious to breed

green odor that caroms
off sidewalls
en route to le petit jardin.

Why only last week, I met
Charles Bukowski
surfing e.coli on ebay.

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