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needles needling needlessly with little thread... or much of anything else...

(foolish dribbles to be written at uncertain times, on an irregular basis, from uncertain sections of the ever expending universe, and from whatever dimension I-We-Us-Them might find ourselves/ myself in …)

Sunday, March 13, 2005

21h46 


Take some wheat flour
from the fridge
where I keep it
locked behind doors
and then there’s some chicken liver
you role around
in it.

Flour sticking
to the brown slimy organ
playing church like
music with Amens
big ones
and Alleluias
bigger ones
coated in wheat flour
on the brown blood.

Fry’em up in the deep pan
hot frizzles
looking good and golden.

Po’boy liver
sanDWHICH
tomato slices
and SPINach
in the bun
with just a tad of black pepper
and a little
salt.

My pillar gentle fried and soft
with a hard golden edge.
Posted by: François Pointeau / 19:53
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