Thursday, May 29, 2014

Poem: Corned Beef

Corned Beef

Grayfinger salad, chops of
salamander unless you don’t
like that kind of thing and
why the hell wouldn’t you.

The only place you can
be getting these ideas is
the daily programming, the
verbarrage aimed at the
back of the head, rotten
walnuts handed down by
tradition because that’s the
way we’ve always done it.

We are smart enough to
contemplate our own existence but
today I ask for more:

That you start at square one and
use your own brain to push your
self into the room where we
don’t know much but what we
do know is real and provable not
some slapped together brouha of
asparagus pie broadcast by a
douchebag into your breakfast
nook and now you must ease the
constipation by shitting it
all over me.

It’s hard to hit a moving target.

From the collection Fields of Satchmo 
Photo by MJV

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