This poem is taken from PN Review 50, Volume 12 Number 6, July - August 1986.
Kitchen Sonnets1
Two blackbirds quickly pass along the wall.
Almost the shortest day. Eternal male
And female. A final leaf or two between
The moon's old ravaged visage and my own.
But her still-pallid countenance will soon
Be altered by the absence of the sun.
Grey into gold - for half humanity
It's tragic that the opposite holds true.
The kitchen radio gives evidence
That wrong-note Frogs were fathered by Saint-Saëns.
Odd that such cleverness should come from forces
That will promote these comic mural races.
In what some think an improper posture, spoon
(Behind closed drawers) spoons with fellow spoon.
2
One can't help being touched by some jazz disc
Recorded at an actual concert, when
...
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