Serration, bone to steel
Flesh—august in size,
reeling—as moon-dance
Retracts its severance
clean—immobilizing each the touches call
Penetrating, as one
might a birthday cake, icing fresh the frosting of the elder pull—deliberating
the wish to his recall—A whet-some yen shivers to pang—expiring through
renewal, prior to the first arrival of a candle’s expending spell
Fever travails
preeminent quells upon a selfish stage,
A variety of salts spray
acerbically into the risen wound—
Gashed, unsealed, tormenting
the object of permutations crave
Five-course offerings
sustain savored grips to greed,
Where corporeal reins
unbridle thee—beckoning forth a beacon to what this hunger weaves—writhing, as do
wanton words, stricken roué from the expiated speech spoken by the faithless tongue
Shards of decadence
purvey the hedonic vale, while
Sweet temperance
restrains caution’s warning aright,
Creation stands in
splendor, formulating realities from this succulence inside
Carving stations
imbibe, in marinades a march to the witness stand—Marionettes proceed, as
automatons—eager to obey this parlance prepared with that, which is offered as
an exemplary of love
Provision’s table
preserves those affirmations told, blindly braising catered affections toward pot-luck’s
creed—“from whatever is available, a moveable feast is hence pronounced.”
Symphonic measures
waive discordant beats—and yet, our fast bears gifts of providence, draying
deep the depths untaught
Tantalizing
archaeometries boldly season lust’s sautéed prevarications, as glimpsed within starvations
eye—proffering an awareness
to the unfinished measures entwined resolves—
Telemetries unnoticed culinary fare, can, and often
shall, alter the associations conducted by one’s own essence—where in that, the
otherwise self-reserved—march pedantically—to arrhythmias held aglow—aroused
by, in, aroma’s capacious light
Forbearance, indoctrinated
by depravity, commiserates amongst the ranges tined apart—from whence once there
lived dormant a voracity dispersed, now spurned reaches ensnare us from
delicacy and it’s fanciful fate preserved, whilst, here astir, are now such strange
edacities aligned
Is it illusion or dominion
o’er its savored self? Breadth—breaded in charisma, dignity—seared and fried, unclothing
of its sired mystery, dancing deep and baring all—a prelude to the tendered
fragrances beheld by imagined sin
Exposure is
surmounting—resiliency’s ceding to this simmering felt—mixing, churning taste
to touch—celestial flavors adroitly spooned within
Steadfastly engorged,
the thickening becomes—glazing’s sticky-sweet spreading thin, until the
unraveling of will succumbs anent desire’s lissome kiss
Through a bronzed
seduction—exigencies claim throne again—dictums pronounce, all denials be denied…and
echoic of the evening prayer, indulgencies reap concurrence loud…for what passion
sows…God shall not withhold… such longings repressed for Heaven’s gain…need not
be-gone nor untold any longer…
In rapt, mere moments
from, the sprig of parsley shall go unmentioned, as it rests—abandoned, like
the guilt deposed hollow by permissions song—
Regret may loom
austere in times we’ve yet to meet, yet tonight…indulgency’s smile can only
dared be replaced, by the psalms permeating through the apertures of need,
blessing all those dining before the salvation’s granted here, where all
creatures have a seat, at this, the table of God’s feast
Is it illusion or dominion o’er its savored self?....great question and the stanza that follows it is probably my favorite in the piece...also like guilt as the parsley overlooked...miles.
ReplyDeleteits good to see you man....i do hope the funk breaks....cause i enjoy seeing you around more...and hope it is just the season and will pass soon enough...
Welcome back to blogland this one was sure grand, although such a spin must be a pain in the rump and so much more at your bin. But then one must push on I suppose, no matter the woes and find some type of hope, as that dark pit can be a slippery slope.
ReplyDeleteWhen you bust down a barricade, you really do it in style Fred. I love all the permutations of words and unexpected surprises of construction in this. Food has never been explored in quite this way before. Having struggled with dieting for forty some years now, I've come to realize it is the continuous stream of choices that wear you down--like a religious hermit, exclusion of sensory stimuli can lead to surprising success mentally. It's only in the last year I've found a diet that works psychologically as well physically, and frees you from the constant cravings of imagination. (feel free to email me if you'd like any time--happy to share details.)Great fare laid out on the groaning board here at this moveable feast.
ReplyDeleteBonus points on the use of edacious, a new to me word, then again your lexicon is staggering. After listening to the recording twice I began to get inside the world you've created here a bit and see the complexity you illustrate. There's an intertwining of themes, metaphors, and symbols that created a gestalt, transcending the various concerns to form a sort of mythical cosmology. I'm still feeling my way through that thought so I'll just leave on it was affecting, it spoke to me of fundamental human need and beyond that for acceptance and communion. Magnificent work.
ReplyDeletewow...all the way while reading it i thought...this would've been perfect for the food prompt...smiles..but then...there's so much more than food...really tight interweaving of different themes fred
ReplyDeleteFound this difficult to read Fred - so listened to your reading - which gave it clarity and your words are a moveable feast indeed!
ReplyDeleteAnna :o]
Wow, some great lines here. Nicely penned.
ReplyDelete