The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants.
-Thomas Jefferson
1.Sometimes a fatted pig will wander off from the
pen and find his way to the pond on the edge of the property. If it’s dark or foggy, he may fall in
and sink to the bottom. Only later
when his carcass has filled with methane and mucous will he
float to the surface. You’ll know
he’s been in the water for a while when you see the bloat, the blisters oozing,
and the skin sloughing off in large sheets. Don’t go there.
It might reflect poorly on you.
2.Ok.
So you didn’t listen.
You went ahead and fetched a stick and poked. And you were taken aback by just how easily it slid through his
tissues, like the time when that pigeon alighted on your hand, and you were startled by how it weighed almost nothing at all.
So to see what might come of
it, you wiggled the stick, and suddenly what was left of the liver and
kidneys popped up onto the surface and spit a stream of fluid into your mouth. They drifted towards you and away again, like your lost toy sailboat, the one that got off the string and floated
down the rapids in Lucerne. Over the falls it went, under the covered bridge, and that was the end.
3.Of course you still eat blood sausage. Why wouldn't you? The texture is rubbery but the taste is well ….. like blood....so metallic on your tongue. But this blood will not wash
away your sins. It’s more like
Pepsi Cola, or maybe Mountain Dew.
Death lures us. We get a taste of it, for it. It sustains our journey until we tip over the falls.
Interesting piece.
It raises for me (with little knowledge of the art, so forgive my meandering thoughts) the question of where is the line between prose and poetry. I get the idea of artistic license, but does prose become poetry simply because it consists entirely of metaphor?
Posted 12 Years Ago
Wow, what a very good set realistic piece again. Like I was back in my past years in Biology class, and a flash back of the movie ET also... where the frogs were jumping on the tables and off to the ground, and splashed on that little girl with wite socks who was standing there in awe ... This is very well written. Vivid and real as you always do. Without fuss. I loved the last stanza, which you are to me the Borderline mental illness in this forum. "to makes you feel truly alive" I've never loved blood sausage, as in the Netherlands they bake it in combination with apples, I always ran outside to avoid the stench when my mother baked it lol ... you bring old memories back to me love it, even if they are bloody and blurry :D Your poetry is art. Very well written, and everything felt real.
so, NOT a vegetarian?
The title and comment stand at obvious contrast to the prose, some very subtle messages and warnings are slathered in between all the malignant pork...I wouldn't be so subtle.
Patriot pawns, a mire of tyrant carnage, the bloated excesses of corporations, the ugly discharge of ignorance and popular condoning of blatant avarice....
but that's just me. The time for subtly is over. The pig was the last one to get it and look what happened to him.
the universe of organic decay~the theoretically curious tongue rolls of the flavor~aged like balsamic vinegar~ oh soo good but also puckers the underside of perception~ science lessons should have incorporated such imagery~ we may have learned better then and deeper~
Whilst at university in Maine, I encountered a few dead seals along new england's shore. The local kids got their kicks by hitching a dead seal to a motor boat and riding them around the harbor (all the blubber makes them very buoyant). Then, when the kids have had their fun, they would need to harpoon the corpse in order for it to sink to ocean floor.
Bet you didn't think this piece would conjured up the fond memories of my college days, but it did.
As always, you style is wholly unique to your brain, which is why I suspect that you probably have ridden a dead seal or two around Frenchman's harbor. Viva la and thanks for posting.