Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Okay, so you find out you're going to die, or be killed later today. What meal would you like? What meal is your favorite? Make that meal for yourself. Sit and write a few lines from the smell and sight of it. Put your ear to the plate and move it around with your fingers or fork, or chopsticks. Listen, smell, look, and eat it, slowly, very, very, slow, ly, eat, it. It's your favorite meal, it's your last meal, enjoy every single flavor. Promise me you're slowly eating? Good. As soon as the last bite is gone move quickly into the bathroom. Blast the cold shower while you strip naked. As soon as your clothes are off then shut the water off. Light a candle, shut off all lights, then sit on the floor of the cold, wet shower with your candle and write your poem, addressing some of what you wrote earlier about your final meal. If someone should catch you and call you a weirdo yell back, "YES I AM NOW LEAVE ME ALONE I'M BUSY!" You are busy, and you are a weirdo, and it's a marvelous thing, now go back to your writing. Forget about them, it's not your fault you're more interesting than they are.
Posted by poet CAConrad at 12:44 PM