Food Untitles Mood

A piece cut off the end
of a loaf of fresh writing
a pinch of pleasure sufficiently
but not wholly filling the mouth.

Coming up from deep slum
pushed airward from the social
diaphragm expressing west-side
slang with an eastern flavor.

Fundamentally like grains
mixed from the odd prairie
wheat whistling in the light
bit of rye darkening the mood.

Some pepper some merengue
in the saddle smoke flying by
the tongue catches it in the eye
and savors it strangely.

Not good to stifle or swallow
opinions of the ribs wrapped
in arguments of the heart.
Who will win that one?


About mrsorenson

NOT my president
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