There once was a woman of Cork
Who visited was by a stork
     Who brought her mistakenly
     A baby made baconly
In a barnyard where ***** pigs pork.

when i get to heaven
           i'm living with the pigs

my home in the sty
           while my soul is in the sky

i'd rather squeal in the pen
            than sit with the bigwigs

and though my neighbors snort and cry
            i'm fine to writhe and eventually fry

See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil

That means I didn't see anything, I didn't hear anything, so don't ask me questions

You wouldn't believe me if I told you. Unless it is what you wanted me to tell you.

The wild boars of Haifa, best news I heard today.
Cute pigs in Haifa,
where bacon is known
as too delicious to eat.

Built on the side of Mt. Carmel,
a secret garden with a magical side,
{In that neotenic frame of mind that allows cute pigs.}

Pigs can swim. Legion told me

NY Times, digest, chewitchewit
The wild boars of Haifa, best news I heard today.

besides memories
a piece of meat is all I have left
from our last pig

it is in the freezer
it is the right hind leg

last summer during the solar flare
there was a blackout
that lasted for two days

one by one
the fowl, the ducks and the plums thawed
and I threw them away
but the big pork leg
remained frozen

whenever a solar flare is announced
I put it in the cooler bag
and take it with me on trips

the hardest is when I bring it home
I do not know why
from one trip to another
I can barely fit it in the drawer

so I cut another slice
not much
just so I do not forget
how I called its name
and it ran up the hill to me
grunting happily

how it chased mother around the yard
when she beat me up
and as a reward
I gave it the best apples
those for the apple pies

but most of all
how I held its hind leg
when they slaughtered it
and it did not struggle for a minute
until I let it go
seeing each other
crying