Welcome to Popular Ink's INDELIBLE KITCHEN.

Now get the hell out!


Really, we would love to have you stay but we would feel rude about that as we have left. As in gone, defunct, kaput. We aren't here anymore. Sometimes, when it's late and we are worried about dying, we do believe in reincarnation. So, maybe we will live again. We'll let you know if that happens.

24.7.07

"Little Teatimes" by Jay Snodgrass

Once after a brunch of needles, pastry brown blood

Stains and fennel, you brandished

The length of hair at the caller knocking at the door,

Mocking birds scrabbling to fill


Up the morning with noise. Once after a breaking

Of limbs you leaned from the broken

Car window and pawed at the ground around my feet

Like a dog after a crime.


Once after the rain came to you like a blanket

Of clover, like a shawl of empty

Shoulders, you proclaimed that the future of wood

Was an axe. We embellished


Your waxing fever with polish and the electric

Wood sander for Christmas. Then

Once you learned to walk again, the lengths of tendon

Reworked into banisters of clean light


You stole a thimble of milk and every other tick

Of seconds from the clock. The refrigerator

Heaved a stony thrumming, compressing air

In gasps. One floor tile at a time


From the alternating patterns of worn browning cream

And burgundy scuffs, got up and marched

To the basement in regiments. Once you parted

The gift of a mirror into two rooms at once


The devil rang the door bell and you scuttled. Once

In a romance of broken rocks and asphalt

You went after the redness in a robin with the left over

Steak knives shivering in the drawer.

4 comments:

Tabitha Dial said...

"like a dog after a crime" ... "the future of wood was an axe" ...

Woah. Love that.

Geof said...

Your poems oft seem to start with a meal. Interesting the way you twist the ingestion of things.

Supremo said...

Yes, a meal. We are afraid to dine with you, what with all the knives. Also, we have heard that you are not above eating something that was labeled "hot brown." Perhaps you could give us a recipe for your next entry.

Love the supreme being of Popular Ink

Carrie said...

You don't have a bio on this site. I see that many of the contributors excel in interpretive dance. I bet you are good at that. Would love to see you bio.