"Your words are my food your breath my wine" - Sarah Bernhardt, All Consuming, She nibbled the edge of the word thoughtfully, Texterous
Eating Poetry – Mark Strand
Ink runs from the corners of my mouth.
There is no happiness like mine.
I have been eating poetry.
The librarian does not believe what she sees.
Her eyes are sad
and she walks with her hands in her dress.
The poems are gone.
The light is dim.
The dogs are on the basement stairs and coming up.
Their eyeballs roll,
their blond legs burn like brush.
The poor librarian begins to stamp her feet and weep.
She does not understand.
When I get on my knees and lick her hand,
I am a new man,
I snarl at her and bark,
I romp with joy in the bookish dark.
Peter Schreiner said:
Sonmi, You know that your posts are double delights. Your imaginative use of tags are tasty treats themselves—I hope none of your readers fail to snatch them up, but then if they do, the more for me.
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It seems a crime to waste the space they inhabit with dull link words when whole extra stories or smiles can be gleaned from a little digging. I’m glad you notice them Peter, you are without doubt a sharp cookie. Not that anyone would want to eat a sharp cookie, so that sounds unpleasant, but is meant in the best way possible. grins
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