Act II, Scene 7: Death at the Appointed Time
July 29, 2007
Africa, my Africa
July 30, 2007

In honor of my 500th posting, a recapitulation of my life since this blog began.

What was I saying? 500
things. Were said.
21 pens laundered,
Tide fresh, color
Preserves; raspberry jam doting
The toast over oily
Folgers ‘best of waking’;
3 boyfriends come, come
Went the wind. and gone.
Where were no cum, not
least of waking, shoved right
out of sheets, mired
and eye-rub tired, or red
with 11:14pm climax;
the movie i never really saw.
as it protrudes, from God crack
and flame, back turned round
i’m dizzy dreaming wasteland;
T.S. you’ve got me, stirred up
with a pot of fond, de boeuf, de
voluntary. disastrous, de fin.
Corpulent black-headed,
widowed, spider-bastard scape
goat of nothing who scrambles
the ease, overeasy, and vegetables:
those good-for-nothing legumes,
best medium-rare, to wit my heart
has it to say: “into the temple,
lack-luster stained; out of the
fry pan, into the flame, went the
dull sundry 500.”

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