Destiny to many old, too young, the only
fold, a manifold, a crease, a cringe disease;
this plague’s a blessing of our stolen cars
when tarmac’s burnin’ sunbeamed hot.
What’s cooking in the neighborhood?
Fast food it’s when frying eggs, it’s you, it’s me
and brains on pots, it’s weeds, it’s deeds
it’s you online; it’s cocaine; it’s manifolds.
It’s us of being one, a being only one,
who’s two, or three, who’s tomboy energy.
We’re one of gasoline and timpani;
come dance and play for me that tambourine,
Come crank your engine, boom, boom, bang
come heartbeat you, and me and you, bang bang.
It’s me a multitude; it’s cooking in the ‘hood
It’s only one. a manifold, it’s us and faster food.
Magaly brings us a number of crazy booktitles to chose from at toads. My choice was Manifold Destiny: The One! The Only! Guide to Cooking on Your Car Engine!, by Chris Maynard and Bill Scheller. Lot’s of good words to bring a bit of beats into poetry (of sorts)… Will also link to poetry pantry on Sunday morning.
March 11, 2017