Plate In The Mirror

Blood-eater, do this for me.
Put your self down to eat
With a mirror.

Such that you can see
Yourself, and that
Plate in the mirror.

Watch yourself eat that blood.
Know then this: there’s the killing
And then there’s the eating,
The mirror effect, and the horror.

What A Smoothie


What a smoothie it was.
I could see its royal blueberry purple.
With the texture of sludge it was an intoxicating taboo,
This nectar of fruit and soy milk.

I could feel in my mouth
The little separated and submerged
Slivers of pineapple like aquasubs swimming agilely,
Missing the falling grenades of blueberry seeds.

Knowing that the shredding shelves of banana
Were merging with the greenacious avocado.
And where was all that chocolate powder?
Gone in the blueberry brew.

What a smoothie it was.


Sperms and Eggs


Soaking seeds and nuts and some berries
In a white bowl overnight for porridge.
Mixing them with my curling fingers
Admiring their mix of colours and feeling.

And then I see the partners for the dance
Pair up in their partnered polarities:
Green pumpkin seeds & red goji berries.
Dark oval dates & gnarly walnut halves.

Small grey shields of sunflower seeds &
Sliding dozens of flaxseed spearheads.
Only alone then: black specks of chia seeds
That swell to completely seize the others by morning.

Tony 12-12-16

What’s Good?

My cat scratches the carpet
Hooking his claws
And drawing himself along on his side.

The garden is so generous.
I want to decorate it with figurines and tiles
Like a child’s bedroom
To show it how grateful I am for its inhabitation.

Hasta la vista pasta!
I haven’t touched you for weeks
Today I filled the bowl
With half a dozen steamed vegetables
All different, each taste becoming the
One something.