Monday, November 29, 2010

cornelius's ode to tryptophan

"And turkey carcass, never flitting, still is ziplocked, still is sitting
On the frigid shelf a freezing just above my ice makor;
And his cold bones has the seeming of a future meant for steaming.
Hints of hot broth o'er him streaming beckons soup in De-cembor;
And my soul from out that vision that slumbers on the kitchen floor;
Shall be lifted—nevermore."

(with apologies to Mr. Poe)