All in all you're just another brick in the whorl.


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Friday, November 21

Asparagus Speare 

Shakespeare Icon
Tomale, canned tomale, canned tomale
Crêpes in this pâté paste from plate to plate
Chew the mashed salad bowl of ricotta thyme.
Endive sour yeasted dates
Half ryebread crullers whey to crusty bread.
Oat, oat, beet canned dill.
Life's butter gerkin sourdough.
Apple layer fat strudle fritters
His flour capon the sage
An dish curd no smore.
Ox tail boiled pie yam meaty ate,
Pilaf scone and curry,
Kidney pie and stuffing.

Al Hunt (with apologies to Shakespeare)
Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
To the last syllable of recorded time.
And all our yesterdays
Have lighted fools the way to dusty death
Out, out, brief candle.
Life but a walking shadow.
A poor player that struts and frets
His hour apon the stage
and is heard no more.
It's a tale told by an idiot,
Full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.

Shakespeare (who thinks Al Hunt is an ass)
•   Posted by: Fracture at 01:03 Plink ©
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