Friday, February 08, 2019

French Cruller Goodness

—Poems and Photos by Ann Privateer, Davis, CA

Glaze clings to the sand bar
Like frosting to a cake
The sea twists and rolls
Onto shore whipping up
Froth, bear claw style.

I am hot and frapped
Sprinkled with custardy
French cruller goodness
An ample Snapple canning
My heat, wanting to be So Be.



the world wakes up
to a new consciousness
new blood, new youth
unearths something big

no more masquerading
no more dictators wearing
oil company jackets

squabbling to command
our trust, we, the zero
percent people that forage

all day, disguised from
ourselves to do and not give up
because our world will

not run out of disasters
and dealers will sell out
regardless of their allegiance.


A coin rolls free
People push, search
For money
Some wonder how long
Plastic will survive
A hungry stomach
Shrivels without food
Loose garments
Play havoc with hips
Not unlike a hurricane lane
That leaves everything unclean
Even the washing machine.



as slow as a minute
watch you bathe

roiling in boiling
hot water, gratifying

that you're not fat
nor as thin as them

melting while you squirm
to shut the soap from

your eyes and draw in must

remove every last restraint
and become full

and round
as a worm.


The young bake cranberry muffins
The creek overflows with flowing
The wisteria flowers its perfume
The songs sing an operatic lament
The stick splinters into bits and pieces
The drapery flounces its self anew.


Today’s LittleNip:

—Ann Privateer

Never eat too much
Lick the platter clean
Let the children dance
Always gorge on sweets
Drop all regrets
In the excoriation bin
Contemplate thinking
By drawing cat's ears
All this, alas, while waiting'
For the tea water to boil.


—Medusa, with  thanks to Davisite (Davisonian?) Ann Privateer for her fine poems and photos today, waking us up on a chilly Friday morning!


Photos in this column can be enlarged by
clicking on them once, then clicking on the x
in the top right corner to come back to Medusa.