Prometheus von Cornsilk (kingnixon) wrote,
Prometheus von Cornsilk
kingnixon

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things i'm sure you all want to know, and dan the pretentious artist

so last nite i tried dave's suggestion of sleeping naked. i slept reeeally well. so yeah, you should all sleep naked now. with me. or not, as the case may be.

(actually, i wore socks, cuz otherwise my feet get cold)

and on a completely unrelated note, i randomly got inspired today coming back from class, and wrote 2 poems. they both, however, are still in the process of being created, and i now submit them to the critique of my readership. somehow they both have acquired 2 endings, and i don't know which to keep. what say ye? (and any other comments you care to make on them would be cool too)
(and my excuse for the odd tone of them both is that i read 2 william carlos williams poems today, and he's wacky)

that dark-haired man of impeccable taste

that dark-haired man
of impeccable taste
has a secret he confided to me one dark night
over too many glasses
of fine
wine.
now, whenever he retires for the evening
for a stroll about the neighborhood
i share his guilt
because i know
and say nothing.
for if i do,
i know i will
become
his next victim.

(or)

that dark-haired man
of impeccable taste
has a secret he confided to me one dark night
over too many glasses
of fine
wine.
now, whenever he retires for the evening
for a stroll about the neighborhood
i share his guilt
because i know
and say nothing.
if i do
i know i will
become
his next victim, but
that is not why
i stay silent.
it is because i enjoy taking part
in his crimes
from the comfort of my livingroom.

soup of the day

today's special,
invented by our chef, in his kitchen
thronged by rare and fragrant spices
saffron and cardamom scenting the air, saucepans quietly simmering as he creates his masterpiece,
or perhaps stolen from some brilliant parisian
living in the gutter,
boiling rats in discarded mustard-
a true gourmet.

(or)

today's special,
invented by our chef, in his kitchen
thronged by rare and fragrant spices
saffron and cardamom scenting the air, saucepans quietly simmering as he creates his masterpiece,
or perhaps stolen from some brilliant parisian
living in the gutter,
boiling rats in discarded mustard-
do not assume he has no taste for the finer things,
that true gourmet.
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