Tuesday, July 19, 2005

What a time, it was . . .

Alimental Ode Full
of Sexual Lonliness
If it was not tranquil, it would be gloomy;
If it was not a prodigious quiet, it would be a
parsimonious silence; If it wasn't a family tree, it would be
a bend sinister; If it was not a siphoning off, it would be
only viscous pitch; If it was not beating its wings
everywhere, it would be an abandoned dog, on Galapagos,
waiting to feed its progeny with eonic recumbence,
and, looking forward to finding the next right sized meal.

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