But first, a cartoon:
Some Poems in
Answer to the Question, “Why Did the
Chicken Cross the Road” (and Variants on that Question)
Looking back
across
the black expanse,
I clucked to myself,
wondering.
Beak canted,
beady eyes narrowed,
I knew the answer.
Once.
Maybe, I left it there,
On the other side.
the black expanse,
I clucked to myself,
wondering.
Beak canted,
beady eyes narrowed,
I knew the answer.
Once.
Maybe, I left it there,
On the other side.
Brunswick Stew
A chicken and a squirrel walk into a bar;
leisurely strutting about, and feeling peckish,
the chicken attacks the popcorn bowl,
and the squirrel, the peanuts.
A few drinks later, the chicken emerges
and meanders, clucking and clueless,
across the avenue,
the squirrel scampering close behind.
Now, squirrels are faster, and have more options
than a flightless, brainless bird.
And yet…
the chicken survives the transit, unscathed;
the squirrel is (as ever) roadkill.
Forget the question of chickens and roads--
Why do squirrels even try?
A chicken and a squirrel walk into a bar;
leisurely strutting about, and feeling peckish,
the chicken attacks the popcorn bowl,
and the squirrel, the peanuts.
A few drinks later, the chicken emerges
and meanders, clucking and clueless,
across the avenue,
the squirrel scampering close behind.
Now, squirrels are faster, and have more options
than a flightless, brainless bird.
And yet…
the chicken survives the transit, unscathed;
the squirrel is (as ever) roadkill.
Forget the question of chickens and roads--
Why do squirrels even try?
Mary
McElveen
Cock-a-doodle-doo on
Broadway
(With a nod to Walt Whitman, And the Bee Gees. And
the Beatles.)
Staring down the broad
boulevards, sauntering past the cross streets
I strut, my feathers ruffled, looking for other chickens
I see them, those proud preening fellows so colorful clucking to attraction
I am the cock of the walk. I am larger than life, larger than death,
Larger than all of Manhattan!
Make way, make way for my cock-of-the-walk walk!
You can tell by the way I walk I’m a dancin’ cock!
I strut, my feathers ruffled, looking for other chickens
I see them, those proud preening fellows so colorful clucking to attraction
I am the cock of the walk. I am larger than life, larger than death,
Larger than all of Manhattan!
Make way, make way for my cock-of-the-walk walk!
You can tell by the way I walk I’m a dancin’ cock!
There is no meat as
sweet as that on these bones: the fat drips from mine
And so, however I shall end up, I will be toasted and I will be enjoyed and
And so, however I shall end up, I will be toasted and I will be enjoyed and
I am me and I am he and
I am you and you are he and we are all together...
I am the eggman
They are the eggmen
No, wait:
I am you and you are he and we are all together...
I am the eggman
They are the eggmen
No, wait:
I am the walrus
Goo goo g' job
Dan
Verner
Chaucer's Pertelote to Miss Emily D.:
I most certainly am not merely "a Thing with Feathers";
When I perch, I am making something far better than Hope--
Perfection in an Egg.
I most certainly am not merely "a Thing with Feathers";
When I perch, I am making something far better than Hope--
Perfection in an Egg.
Nancy
West
HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! AWESOME, guys!!
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