Wednesday, June 10, 2009

an afternoon obviation, avec crossaint

i. it began and ended with a floured swerve

the cleansing curvature of the bleeding brink,
while, tasteful in its necessary spring of pink,
delivered, still, a heave to knead our breathy loaf:

it was the beginning, and the end, of the white bell curve.

ii. sometimes the snowy drifts require packaged yeast

after the bursting cloud of moths had fluttered clear
and since nothing sings like the diaphanous warm of near
we murmured into the rhapsodic blurs of a sapphire sleep:

unpredictable pudding, so clever, makes a scarlet feast.

iii. in the end, it's all about the slice that's prized

the learned courtesy of beige paranoia left no lasting score,
but, happily, swelled the dusted board with a crimson floor
and a draped sunset of nascent pearls that, rising, pleased:

a bread delayed is a bread denied.


  1. The language reads like the magic of bread to me and there is most definitely magic in bread.

    The juxtaposition of the scarlet and snowy drifts is startlingly nice.

    Now, what are you obviating? I know, incurable.

  2. Very nice language, both the use of and poetic flow. It radiates imagery

    An enjoyable read.

  3. Damn! I enjoyed reading this one. The analogy is great! Keep writing!!!

  4. But this is not just about the bread, right? No you would not do that. Nothing is face value with you and that is what I like, when I read your words written.
    They make me think, they make me laugh; they make me cry!
    I am liking the alliteration woven through in parts.
    I am liking that there is no wadding for me and I am able to ponder, while I wander in your words.

  5. Mr. Boyd, I enjoyed this tremendously. From beginning to end, and around again.