08/30/2007 (1:52 pm)
Left
bracelet here on my left wrist tight
brightly shining circles around
repetition of rings _ spiral
endless rhythmic geometry
leaves an impression
you touch to examine
coffee-cup stains on the table
sugar spilling over the edge
dancing free with gravity _ pulled
down while memory replays each
missed opportunity …
in imagination I turn
I turn _ left into light-striped dark
covet earth and air _ listening
frightened by fickle chemistry
hesitation here
left speechless
between beginning and beginning
tongues as catalyst _ a stirring
hidden under many layers
this exothermic reaction
in three heartbeats from your three steps
in this direction of …
leaving _ without a farewell
closure so cruelly _ withheld
here lingers a masochistic itch
of missing _ and of wanting
to fall _ to fall down
to recall the physics
remembering only linguistics
your words there never dissolving
I am left infinite-anti-
cipation-addicted to our
conversation to be continued …
08/30/2007 (1:06 pm)
Meat
I am preparing a male impersonation act, and what better subject to include than meat. I over heard a fellow rugby player talking, and he has inspired me to write a little something on Meat:
I like my meat real thick:
you know,
like one-and-a-half or two inches thick. Mmm.
And I like it pink:
you know, oh yeah,
seared goodness on the outside,
but rare, raw and tender on the inside,
there, you know, right in the middle.
Oh, and I like it hot:
you know,
flaming hot, ooo,
with all those juices running down!
And I like it really spicy:
fiery flavour, oh yeah,
tasty tasty tasty!
gimme some of that salt-and-pepper,
if you know what I mean.
But, you know,
I especially like my meat jerked,
oh yeah,
and some of those other rubs are real nice too.
I do love my meat. Mmm, mmm!