June 02, 2004

QWX: Zucchina: Altaforte


Damn it all! all this our Kitchen stinks hunger.
You whoreson dog, Pimiento, come! Let's to dinner!
I have no life save when the pots clang.
But ah! when I see the burners gold, purple, blue, warming
And the broad skillets above them turn smoky,
Then growl I my stomach nigh mad with anticipation.


In hot summer I have great rejoicing
When the juices kill the earth's foul thirst,
And the salsa on brittle chip flash crimson,
And the fierce onions roar me their breath
And the garlic shrieks through my taste buds mad, delicious,
And in all the hot kitchens God's tomatoes simmer.


Hell grant soon we hear again the mushrooms sizzle!
And the shrill whistles of potatoes in oven baking!
Hot butter to juicy onion opposing!
Better one hour's morning than a year's afternoon
With no breakfast, no lunch, wine and no dinner!
Bah! there's no wine like the beet's crimson!


And I love to see the bread rise golden-brown.
And I watch his bubbles through the oven door
And it fills all my heart with rejoicing
And pries wide my mouth with fast chewing
When I see him so firm and turn golden,
His long might 'gainst all unbakedness opposing.


The man who fears weight gain and squats opposing
My words for dinner, hath no buds for tasting
But is fit only to rot in unsatisfied hunger
Far from where sauces are poured and the forks flash,
For the death of such diets I go rejoicing;
Yea, I fill all the air with my chewing.


Pimiento, Pimiento, to the dinner!
There's no sound like teeth to peach opposing,
No cry like the eater's rejoicing
When our elbows and fingers drip the orange
And our lips 'gainst the fuzzy skin clash.
May God damn for ever all who cry "No thank you"!


And let the music of our swallows make them envious!
Hell grant we hear again the mushrooms sizzle!
Hell blot black for always the thought "Not hungry"!

With moderately sincere apologies to Ezra Pound.

Posted by dianna at June 2, 2004 04:01 PM

I'm torn between joy at funny poetry and anger and being made so hungry. Rar.

Posted by: Jacob at June 2, 2004 05:35 PM

Seriously, that poem made me want to go eat some fish flesh, despite the decided lack of anything meat-based in the initial stimulus. Perhaps it's the salmon in the oven that bridged the gap in my mind.

Posted by: Chris at June 2, 2004 07:38 PM

I just linked to the text of the original poem, for the benefit of people like Jacob who didn't read it in English class and who give me funny looks when I start quoting it out of nowhere.

There are a couple of annoying popups on the page with the poem on it. A thousand apologies. If you want one without popups you can damn well look it up yourself.

Posted by: Dianna at June 2, 2004 09:35 PM


Posted by: michele at June 3, 2004 10:18 AM

crud, CH is boring today.

Posted by: michele at June 3, 2004 03:34 PM

It really is. Thanks for the nod, by the way.

Posted by: Dianna at June 3, 2004 04:06 PM

time to go home! don't care anymore! bye dianna!

Posted by: michele at June 3, 2004 04:37 PM