Cornelia Ceilings Poems

Blest be the loaves
Which gave thee sight to hear
My song of culinary magnificence.
...

Soporific, transient images float;
the shooting pain keeps me vivid
as Delauney, except my palette is
pain not paint. The limp head hangs
...

What are you to do when you see a dead duck,
Its wings snapped like a coffee stirrer in Starbucks,
Its intestine exploded like vomit on Sunday morning,
And its beak, broken from its face?
...

A breath is not a word
A whisper is not a sentence
Pain is not a paragraph
But Pride and Prejudice do make a book
...

Reay Reay is a ray
of sunshine in our gloomy day
lighting us up, like a cigarette
before the smoking ban
...