Welcoming me through that stuckfast door
into your roadworthy womb, cigarette in mouth,
you tell me Socrates was right;
that suicide is so logical;
that no man knows;
that humanity, having spread,
denies a further virus.
A bottle of ale there on the hearth -
the nutty yeast of the head still brewing.
I bring out my gift for you -
a loaf of bread - and remind you,
my wander-weary brother, how yeast
multiplies and multiplies,
furthering itself, and no man cares why.
Apr 4, 2013
Apr 4, 2013 at 12:54 PM UTC
Welcoming me through that stuckfast door
into your roadworthy womb, cigarette in mouth,
you tell me Socrates was right;
that suicide is so logical;
that no man knows;
that humanity, having spread,
denies a further virus.
A bottle of ale there on the hearth -
the nutty yeast of the head still brewing.
I bring out my gift for you -
a loaf of bread - and remind you,
my wander-weary brother, how yeast
multiplies and multiplies,
furthering itself, and no man cares why.
3rd piece for NaPoWriMo.
