Norma Jean Fishmonger is wearing bib overalls
and living in my refrigerator behind
the jar of slimy, fermented soybeans
no one's bothered to open.
Juicy fillings are best dipped in chili
but my mother's dumplings are always
non-fat. Give Porter some Black
Baccara roses on long stems. Then,
he'll agree to spin yarn because he
loves being a soft long-haired cactus.
The sun smells like gunpowder.
I can hear the apple pies in the world
moon me. Hard apples sing exquisitely
in muted green. Porter and Clemons live
in small apartments next to the Taj Mahal.
Juicy fillings are best served as bait for hyena
and my mother's dumplings always
swim in salty fish juice.
Van Morrison is John Lee Hooker's favorite
white blues singer. My bad, I left his dinner
in the rain and then our neighbor's dog
peed on it. Far out, man, when's the party?
The cat danced the jig and flew away
to nest with the ravens. Porter didn't growl
or hide under the bed when the UPS man
rang the doorbell. I was beside myself
because I was assigned to work on
the integration chapter which already
had 39 unresolved review comments.
Clemons will be banned from public transit in France
for eating 2 bags of dehydrated horse urine eggs a day,
each bag $20 out of our bank account.
The fragrant strange smelling eggplant sat
on the dish rack. Norma Jean must eat cactus
at least 9 months out of the year
when her days are always prenatal.
Mao shi meili de. Fat cats love to
ferment medium-rare hamburgers
in barrows. The Sky taste like
rancid butter in its own museum.
Norma Jean Fishmonger has stepped out
of the refrigerator barefoot
and weightless in white to eat my chow mein.
Priscilla Lee