Scramble
Goulet
Posts: 918
In a frying pan you can scramble eggs
with mushrooms
and bell peppers and onions,
and on the stove the heat can radiate
off your face and hands,
and under the kitchen lights
you can see your arm-hair
and the moles on your skin,
and standing on the wood-grain floor
you can feel a little shiver
come up through your toes and feet
and trickle to your spin
until your head shakes.
Your inside parts,
your heart and lungs and bones
and everything,
go on working away,
delighting in the feel and smell and heat
of your scramble,
and your brain goes on working too,
even as you space out,
it's twisting and turning over and over,
a grey earth worm tugging at your ears
and forehead
and eyes.
Writhing, your brain gets out of its nested places
and conjures up dream-states and wild mind-states
and manic moments filled with jerky movements
when you grab your head
and wish the room would stop spinning,
and it cooks up enormous depressed-states
when the slow-motion of the world
moves in the slow-motion of your mind
and again you grab your head and face
and look through your fingers
scared of everything
and yourself
because you are so large and great,
and the world is so small and beautiful
and destructive.
It's too bad that you get so unfocused
and can't begin to think of good endings
for songs or poems or stories or movies
or life,
and it's too bad you're only making a scramble.
with mushrooms
and bell peppers and onions,
and on the stove the heat can radiate
off your face and hands,
and under the kitchen lights
you can see your arm-hair
and the moles on your skin,
and standing on the wood-grain floor
you can feel a little shiver
come up through your toes and feet
and trickle to your spin
until your head shakes.
Your inside parts,
your heart and lungs and bones
and everything,
go on working away,
delighting in the feel and smell and heat
of your scramble,
and your brain goes on working too,
even as you space out,
it's twisting and turning over and over,
a grey earth worm tugging at your ears
and forehead
and eyes.
Writhing, your brain gets out of its nested places
and conjures up dream-states and wild mind-states
and manic moments filled with jerky movements
when you grab your head
and wish the room would stop spinning,
and it cooks up enormous depressed-states
when the slow-motion of the world
moves in the slow-motion of your mind
and again you grab your head and face
and look through your fingers
scared of everything
and yourself
because you are so large and great,
and the world is so small and beautiful
and destructive.
It's too bad that you get so unfocused
and can't begin to think of good endings
for songs or poems or stories or movies
or life,
and it's too bad you're only making a scramble.
Post edited by Unknown User on
0
Comments
why?
i asked you to, thats the fuck why!
scramble your plans
when?
now, your plans make no sense
scramble the mistletoe
how?
throw it in the frying pan, add some butter, i don't know
scramble your brain
who?
you, you moron, smoke till you're insane
scramble the preamble
now?
yes now, its the beginning
scramble the lumberjack
what?
the lumberjack, the big red haired thief whose on the attack!
Jim Carrol
or
you go hungry - eee-yeah
Try a peanut butter and bacon sandwich, they're delicious!
yak
Mmm-mmm!
It's surprisingly, disgustingly, delicious!
Ugh! Now that's disgusting!
Yes, there is toast involved. Two slices of bread, toasted to your liking, a dollup of creamy PB and a few nice n' crunchy strips of "regular" bacon. It is not a "Canadian" creation, it just is "a" creation. My friend used to love them (his mom created them , I guess) and I've eaten a few in my time. They're really quite good.