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.
Finally browsed someone who is not only into music but also into poetry! I know nothing about music, but sure composed some poetry. I know only too much about art though. Your work provides a lot of images for the reader to digest! Nice.
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