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Poems from My Food Poem Book

My first book received kind words from Steve Allen, Stiller & Meara, Julia Child, Vincent Price and many more. It's now out of print, which shows you how far kind words go. Since you probably won't be able to find a copy too easily, here are a few samples to chew on...

GRAPE GERIATRICS

When I think of growing older
I like to think of grapes.
They lead a life that humankind's forgot.

When grapes are growing older
they're still useful in the world.
Metamorphized into raisins; they don't rot.

If you're stomped by life's misfortunes
feeling weary, old and worn,
in the human world you're ready to resign.

But a grape that's stomped and squashed
will only rise again refreshed
As a memorable sip of sparkling wine.

COSMIC MARSHMALLOW ROAST

The pale white orb
in sugar dust
onto the branch stick
squeezed and thrust
Beginning a journey
of lust and desire
out of the package
and into the fire.
Soundless, mindless,
calm and quiet,
it's going to die,
she's off her diet
that giant being
so strange and odd
who put the mallow
on the prod.
The fire flickers
the bright flames sway
as the marks of the smoke
turn the marshmallow gray.
Too close to the fire
too helpless in trouble
it warps and convulses,
it tingles and bubbles.
The surface turns brown
and the core feels the heat.
The bubbles turn black
as they pop to the beat
of the mad spitting fire
and the burning hot blasts
till the marshmallow's melted,
a formless brown mass.
Hanging spent skin
and exposed mottled core,
it's gobbled up suddenly
now there's no more

THE CHOPSTICK STORY

I knew that I shouldn't
I vowed that I wouldn't
I knew it was stupid to do.
But I wanted to try it
I couldn't deny it
the night I went into Wah Wu.

I sat like a goon
saying "No fork or spoon,
Some chopsticks," I said, "if you please."
The waiter looked dutiful,
very inscrutable
and fetched me my Chicken with Peas.

I thought I had lucked out
a small pea I plucked out
"I've mastered the chopsticks," I grinned.
But the rest of the peas
clattered down to my knees
and the sauce dribbled over my chin.

I was flickin' and pickin'
at pieces of chicken.
The soy sauce splashed out at my wife.
I laughed, very nervous
as the waiters gave service
saying, "Here! Take a FORK and a KNIFE!"

But you know manic me --
I was hooked, can't you see?
Though everyone else seemed irate
I kept flailing out,
knocked the chicken about
till the thing stood up right on my plate!

While I looked down in awe
at the strange sight I saw,
The chicken -- my cooked dinner meat --
Made stilts from my sticks
and the damnedest of tricks --
It hopped in a huff down the street!

And from ten blocks around
people looked at the ground
and a stilt-walking chicken they saw.
And me, I'm all right.
But you know, since that night
I can only be fed through a straw.

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