Stuff on stuff
And stuff on stuff on stuff
A heaping pile of facts
Apples, Sundays, sunshine
How would you like a knuckle sandwich?
How would you like your eggs?
I'm allergic to them, but I love making frittatas
I also love making fish tacos, good drinks, red sauce, Indian food
I love cooking for people and watching them eat
I'm usually less hungry when I cook for a bunch of people, and then I can't really taste the food either
Adam Good taught me how to make grits proper
I'm going to have some in the morning
Count back from 30
Count back from 28
There's more
There are a hundred ways to die
People drowned all the time
There are the oceans, rivers, lakes
Creeks, bogs, streams, aquifers, pools, seas
Quarries, tanks, bays, and harbors
There are more and none of them know you
They are out there, full of water, and they don't know you
They never will
Even if your lungs were filling with water
They don't have brains
They don't wear shirts
They flow and your forget
They flow and you breathe air
With your brain and your shirt
You breathe air
Good on you
Location:W Pratt St,Baltimore,United States
1 comments:
Stuff on Stuff on Stuff
can squeeze you like compressed
air in a tank for walking the bottom
of those impersonal waterways
where anger might dissipate
if only you weren't still waiting.
At least that's where I went with your poem. Which I like. Very much.
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