Monday, January 2, 2012

Tasteless







is my bowl. A spicy sauce
floats on top, steam
glassed

noodles heap in sun
rays. No credit.
Cash.

Pucker and ladle
stems, beef,
chili

penance into
these lips and teeth,
salt

each bud, feed
me lemon
wilted.

protect
我, and bend, at the
waist,

of every day. Empty
the grit, dark
root dirt.

sate,
sake, spake, or would it
be enough

to just chew away, chew away.

No comments:

Post a Comment