i will try to write 100 poems in 100 days. even if they're all chamber potty. then i'll write one when i feel like it.

Monday, March 22, 2010

i smell the already

sliced onions here in the front room
the sliced onions in the kitchen
waiting next to a sharp knife
on a wood cutting board
near a cast iron pan
on a gas stove we bought last year on sale at sears
o sliced onions!
sliced onions!
soon you will spice tofu, zucchini and mush
rooms two
rooms to
my left
the holy kitchen
where sliced onions
will sizzle
in a song that sings:
add everything now!
then they will all dance in the pan
and
then

we

will
eat
them.

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