Saturday, December 20, 2014

Retro 90s...


An old, old man Jack said
This Is Not Poetry.
I said It Is.
Shortly thereafter,
he left his barstool
and growled out the door.
I figured later that night
his dreams were scary
because he lost the gold.
I told him, yeah Jack,
you got the sly and witty words
but the beanstalk is not an escape.
I said, yeah, this poem is
broken beer bottles,
grease and tar.
It can be the sweet peas
blooming purple
on the back stoop...
Or it can become 
for turkey or chicken.
Add a ton of onions 
peeled, chopped and sauted 
until soft.
Stir in the thyme, sage, pepper,
caraway seed and salt.
Mix well with the bread and potatoes.
I’m not much of a cook
but that’s stuffing.

A poem of mine circa 1995-96 when my crew was bike messengers & punk musicians.

No comments:

Post a Comment