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Overloading the Machine
Omelet
I want to write a cracked egg poem with no yolk.
No, I want to write a jumbo egg poem with two yolks.
Toothpaste running down my freshly shaven chin
I divide my life into embryos of employment
and their locations, dozens of eras
dozens of yolks and the result
is financial and white. Divide
and continue, there is always more
to rerun and review. I don't need
to see the end of this show
the part where
like I said
how would you like your eggs?
Over
You can see how the past has come to pass //
in the ferns and sweepings of ore and text //
that shadowed such narratives as had been scratched, //
as though any hotel guest could wipe the blight away //
and in so doing, be redeemed for the moment.
-- John Ashbery, "Tension in the Rocks"
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