i. My mother knocks it against the counter and splits it cleanly in half. Yellow yolk slides smoothly into porcelain. She whisks the mixture, tilting the bowl. This way more air goes in, she shows me, arm moving swiftly back and forth. Yellow spills into the clear. The fork clacks rhythmically against the bowl while the oil in the pan sizzles on the stove. There is the loud, incessant noise of the ventilation hood, the rising smoke, the hazy heat, …
Tag: Eggs
“Vodka Omelet” * Poem + Audio * Michael Lee Johnson
“Vodka Omelet” Audio “Vodka Omelet” Text Make it clear in my mind, Jesus, am I whacked-out on Double Cross Vodka or have I flipped out calling myself Limburger omelet chef? I hate question marks and angels with crazed wings. You know the type, John the Baptist toking weed, stoned out of his mind, storyteller, foul smells from poor hygiene, eating habits open mouth, swallowing grasshoppers, so silky, smooth as sweet honey. Add 3 eggs in a skillet, Parmesan/Romano blend, …
Read More "“Vodka Omelet” * Poem + Audio * Michael Lee Johnson"
“Magpie Aubade” & Other Poems by Mike Lewis-Beck
Caffè Quattro Cantoni This whish of the espresso machina brings me back to my tiny table and a half-eaten cornetto—limp— its crumbs cascading over the Tribune and La Corriere, barely opened. I should pay at the caisse but it’s crowded. Instead I go over, over Laura, what she just did, what she just said, or not. Laura’s like an orange, sweet smelling and giving to the squeeze, but hard to get into, and once you do the fiber’s fiberous, hard …
Read More "“Magpie Aubade” & Other Poems by Mike Lewis-Beck"