Friday, January 22, 2016

Suppose it were Friday cix: Wonderbred for breakfast

 Sipping with his left for a change,
 Young Jeb reflected that what this
 world needs is a gastronomy at day-
 break which can help us forget the
 turquoise plastic furniture at the
 finger-pinching cupboards, wilted
 flowers dripping on their ground 
 of laminated glass; the cold, con-
 gealed, sclerotic eggs, a process-
 ed patent fruit fizz flattening in
 its plastic cistern, the incense
 sticks insensible of the porridge
 without a spoon, as airbrushed abs
 reflect on their revulsion at a pa-
 per bag's infusion of his mug, for-
 mica brooding darkly on his tummy.

 Sure, he reasoned, they're all be-
 ing poisoned in Flint, but there's
 no need to let it reach what the
 Party likes to call, the general

Antoine-Louis Barye
1796 - 1875
Eagle with its prey

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