Eatin’ me some pork rind
Listenin’ on the party line
Havin’ us a good ol' time
Drinkin’ elderberry wine
(Workin’ on it)
Eatin’ me some pork rind …
Salty!
Talkin’ on the party line …
Hush now!
Helpin’ others when we could
Simply doin’ what we should
Always knew just where we stood
Livin’ never felt so good
(Mercy me)
Eatin’ me some pork rind …
Crunchy!
Havin’ us a good old time ...
Wee doggy!
Login on some web page
Don’t know why it’s all the rage
Face-to-face how I engage
Guess I sure can show my age
(Boy and how)
Eatin’ me some pork rind …
Yummy!
Talkin’ on the party line …
Hush now!
Havin’ us a good ol' time …
Wee doggy!
Drinkin’ elderberry wine …
Here’s to us!
(repeat, softer — fade)
Thick, crispy slices of pork
Grandma's recipe :
mashed turnips and potatoes
Delicious white sauce
Parsley for garnish
Traditions
born
CORN HUSKS, PORK, AND *GUAJILLO
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
the corn husk, brittle parchment
from August fields, unfolds its grip—
steam rising from the stove,
like a ghost of summer
inside, masa holds its secrets close:
folded pork stained with cumin and guajillo~
autumn’s first comfort food ,
warmth against the coming cold.
marinated pork belly
exudes decadence
my charcoal grill is smokin
juice drips from skewers
great appetizer
can’t wait to
bite
pork pie
I had gone to a poetry meeting
the organizer had supplied pork pie and tea
Nothing was expected of me, all I had to do
was to nod my head sagely and applaud
the readers.
A female poet of sweet verses saw me
putting pork pies in my pocket, we got talking
she offered to drive me home
but since I didn't have a home, we drove to hers
I ended up staying there until spring
when ducks in the pond fly to a secret place
for their spring break
I took the train to another town and quickly
got a job as a doorman at a posh restaurant
On the other side of my workplace, a small
cake shop where I sat before my shift and met
Yesmin, the love of my life
Charity should not replace dignity
There once was a pig from New York
Who wasn’t the cleverest of pork
Worked at a butchers shop
Until he got the chop
Now Will someone please pass me a fork!
I am not yet tall-table high.
Mum turns up the blue flames,
lowers the thick sausages,
dripping crackles,
the iron skillet is licked fat.
The meat finds its voice,
a splutter of buttery smaze,
the pork is in bloom,
the animal inside the flesh
disappearing,
the meat opening florets of aroma.
A drool forcing sizzle,
makes wet lips chew air.
Mother turns, cheeks flushed,
not looking at me.
Say’s
“He will love these.”
A flash in the pan,
a gutted put-down,
and me
too low to see over myself.
Greedy dirty pigs
taking more than you deserve
I now live on scraps
1 1/2 cup of pigfeet broth
1 cup of diced apples
1/4 cup of cooked celery
1/4 cup of candied ginger
1/4 cup of cooked red peppers
1/4 cup of cooked onion
3 tablespoons of garlic
2 tablespoons of vinager
1 teaspoon of soy sauce
2 teaspoons of honey
1 tablespoon of Cayenne
2 tablespoons cherry juice
2 tablespoons of port
1 1/2 cup of pigfeet broth
1 cup of diced apples
1/4 cup of cooked celery
1/4 cup of candied ginger
1/4 cup of cooked red peppers
1/4 cup of cooked onion
3 tablespoons of garlic
2 tablespoons of vinager
1 teaspoon of soy sauce
2 teaspoons of honey
1 tablespoon of Cayenne
2 tablespoons cherry juice
2 tablespoons of port
After weeks of vegetarian snacks
a part of him was still searching city dumpsters
for chewed-over Big Macs.
Then in a moment of weakness
at the County Fair
he purchased one greasy Irish pork sausage
so sweet and thick -
it was on a stick.
Deliciously it licked his tongue
with a fulsome,
sweet succulent fried meatiness.
H actually swooned
over its savory, lick-able tenderness.
That night in restless dreams
he slow-cooked two more of them,
pork drooled, dripping from his mouth
- a kind of porcine phlegm.
Night long he slurped
upon the suet of his soul
only to awake
hangry and left un-whole
for those pork bangers
were still banging in his sleepy head...
and so he arose to deep fry
a large, peeled turnip in almond fat,
and sadly sucked upon that, instead.
pork steaks, cut into small bits
an onion, chopped fine
a nice hot fresno pepper
strong, yellow curry
garden-fresh peaches
combine and
feast!
sugar brown and onion powder
garlic, cumin make it louder
smoked paprika, kosher salt
pepper red, too hot? my fault
rub it down into the meat
overnight the flavors seep
throw it in the smoker early
fragrant wisps all white and curly
swirling round that butt for hours
magical transforming powers
gloriously crunchy, dark
the delicious outer bark
when it’s done, out slides the bone
time to eat! you’re on your own…
I had this strange, incurable psychosis
Most of the time it was all in my head
But this bout was a case of trichinosis
Here I lie happily well-fed…and dead
Written March 20, 2022
I am tall-table young.
Mum turns up the blue flames,
lowers the thick sausages.
Dripping crackles,
the iron skillet is licked with fat,
a nutritive sizzle.
The meat finds its voice;
a splutter of buttery smaze.
The pork is in bloom,
the animal inside the flesh
disappearing,
the meat opening florets of aroma.
Mother turns, cheeks flushed,
not looking at me,
seeing only a man who will arrive soon,
say’s out loud:
“He will love these.”
My stomach cramps
with an acidic disappointment.
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