The Love Song Of J. Alfred Foodtalk Poem by Glenn Bagshaw

Let us go and bend chicken thighs
when the bread is spread out beside the pie,
like a cutlet tenderized upon a table.
Let us go through sweet and buttered beets
of fresh pike with moskatel....
.....to feed you in the sweltering kitchen or imbibious kitchenette,
Oh do not pass the triskets
while we still can eat baked biscuits.....

In the spoon persimmons show
they're shocking with minced oregano...

And indeed there will be lime
you blunder, 'date square? ' and, 'a pear? '
lime to turn back and regurgitate in air
(They will say; 'He's clueless and unaware-a sin!) ...
....Do I care
to burp in curse
with the rind of lime
for incisions and divisions in lime will be perverse.

....And I have known the eggs from barns, known them all-
barns that are splattered white and wear
(but a sight in light) , brownish omelettes, so I swear!
Is it fumes from this mess
that makes me distressed?
Barns that seem unstable, warped and not tall.
And how should I resume?
and how without gin? ....

jelly roll... jelly roll...
I shall bear my dinner cold.

....I do not think small 'wings' should be.....

...We have fingered in the chowder: broccoli;
shrimp-curls in our teeth with sesame mounds,
till tuna and oysters bake up, and seem brown