Wednesday, April 02, 2014


And so you can see, I missed entering my 2013 NaPo poems and here it is, Napo 2014. You'll have to go to PFFA to see my 2013 offerings, it's just too much work and I'm not up to the energy needed, so... But anyways, here's 2014's offerings.

April 1

And So...

Quitting hour ends another days drudge
and I am done with banal encounters,
soon forgotten somewhere
in the middle of mindless routine.
The left over time is mine to enjoy;
it's a short-lived sigh until
the shrilling of tomorrow's alarm. But

in the meantime I am free
to indulge that tasty bottle of shiraz
waiting so patiently to be popped;
or lose myself among the clicks in cyberspace;
or perhaps make a bold venture out
to visit the local pub.

It doesn't matter. What does
is that it gives me the desire to breathe;
and if I'm luckier still,
a reason to smile.

April 2

Confessions of a Food Addict

This persistent yen is an ache
for certain textural flavors: the rich velvet
of pasta carbonara; the spicy hot
of a fresh mango salsa combined
with the crisp crack of a blue corn tortilla;
the meatiness of a perfectly singed rib eye
brushed with herbs and clarified butter;

and nothing compares to the fizzy tickle
of a fine champs or the kick of a well spiced
bloody mary, the bite of a good Johnny Black
at the back of the throat, so breath-taking;
and even all this cannot slake

the desire for more. The nagging need
to taste and chew and savor is a paramount
compulsion, one that lives for the dance
of the palate as it samples the food of gods,
and the saliva gush when recalling that last
bite of brulee caressing the tongue, whispering sex;
better than sex to a food junkie, so attuned
to the endorphin rush of multiple flavors, alone
or mixed together all at once, it doesn't matter.

Screw the diet, the rotund figure, the health risks
which nag at the back of a food-stoked skull.
All that matters is that the next nibble erupts
into screaming hot sex on the budded tongue;
all self-control banished for one more bite. 


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