mercredi 23 septembre 2015

Whatever Stirs

Still a trifle alive and cooking
Once again stewing stuff, often stirring
Whereupon meaty scents rise and wriggle through the hood.
The incorporeal by hook or by crook goes to evaporate
While substance, in turn, tends to sink and cluster:
Even in the gravy there is gravity at work;
To battle against it, stubborn stirring.

– That’s why the sagging, I see. But are there
Any other signs for the coming nigh of doneness?
Certainly. Fattening.
Does that fattening prevent the sagging?
No, it emphasizes.
No other?
Yes, vanishing.
Does vanishing emphasize anything?
Wish it would.

In the meantime, let us serve brother dish.

     “The doneness of a piece of man 
     Depends on how long he’s on fire.
     You say you’re rare, you’re but a liar:
     You’ve broiled a lifetime in the pan.

     Quite sure, the outside doesn’t tell
     But Cookies got a fork to stab.
     You are not blue, you’re simply drab
     This roasted on some stake of hell.”

September 17, 2015

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