Thursday, March 27, 2008

The king of the kitchen
has fried himself into a corner.
In the last remaining steps of life
sizzled flesh melts to the floor.

5 comments:

Noah The Great said...

Ooh, that last line caught me off guard!

ozymandiaz said...

ouch

janetleigh said...

This one smokes!
Brian, you're back?! If you are, that's great!
I missed you.

writerwoman said...

That one leaves me thinking I need to become a wiser person so I don't end up with that sort of fate.

Fireblossom said...

Hmm, long fry the King. I once wrote a poem called The Queen Of Catalpa Street...perhaps they should meet.

This reminds me of Russel Edson. ("The Wounded Breakfast") A sort of dream-like and ill fated otherworld. And darkly homourous as well.