Archive | 4:58 pm

The Occasional Writer

8 Mar

The smell of egg

Offends you,

A cake is lemon sin.

Your thoughts collect

Yeast

And hankerings

And scatter nail clippings in

The wind.

The walk to the temple

Cuts your heels

Devotional scars sprout maps

What would they say if you

Hurried away, unwilling to roast the

Cumin?

Gandoo, he cusses at the

Newborn child

While grandma stirs his kanji

Your worlds they crash and spray

sweet gut,

the heart as free as

marmalade.