Am I Too Old Yet? - Poem by paul shannon
fry the onion until transparent
add the stock and toss in various shapes
give it a furious stir
bring to the boil and simmer down
while the soup is cooking,
grind with mortar and pestles etc
all the stems cells to a thick paste
add to the simmering broth
serve with pencils
to derive from food its energy
for growth and self aggrandisement
eat only the edible portion.
abstain from fat on pans,
outer leaves, feathers and domestic pets.
you may eat any number of meals a day
up to ten o’clock at night,
but remember a meal can be defined
as such only if eaten sitting down
during a single period of time.
amid all the paraphernalia
none expects flat space exists,
a sprig accompanied by little dishes.
she swims with her fingers only
till her jaws ache
with the effort to repeat herself.
Fricassee of mad dog
bearing in mind a circular block
chop up a field of lush parsley
adding a bit more bulge or taking a bit more out
pare hollow the frozen turnips
blanche in a shoal with sprigs of holly
shave and shape the carrots to a tapering thickness
serve….with scraps from the table…
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