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Inartistic Cook Recipes, directions to end cavernous hungers humbly. Dressing up the eye for what denies it deeper indulgence. If not for plates and crystal casting shimmers Fancy dressed up manners taken to dinner. We'd do it all on the White House lawn and make a Thunderbird toast to Suzy Creamcheese. |
Additional Notes:
To Frank Zappa (saving you some googling time.)
This Poem was Critiqued By: Mark Steven Scheffer On Date: 2008-09-30 16:05:01
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
JCH,
Neither here nor there but it calls to mind a memory. I am distantly related to Mr. "Zappa" on my mom's side. I remember going to the home of my great uncle - I think that's the term, he was my grandfather's brother - with my grandfather. Anyway, we were sitting around the table, the adults drinking some cheap guinea red, when these two little old Italian ladies recounted the story of going to one of the concerts of "cousin Frank" at Madison Square Garden. The ladies had seats on the ground floor, in front of the stage, and had quite an experience. :) I wish they had some photos of that excursion.
Anyway, the poem. It's nice when a poet brings out little dimensions in words. Like, for example, "indulgence" here. I never really appreciated the wonderful way that word enacts its meaning in the second syllable until now - it's the context of meaning you've created, and that "deep" before it. Forever now will indulgence be appropriately associated in my mind with "diving in."
Inside the minds of those gussied up bodies on the White House lawn they're "doing it" - the facade is a fence that fools no one - well, anyone who thinks. Love the "Thunderbird toast." Two minutes behind the muffler pipe, and then a nice spread of Suzy on top. :)
Notwithstanding the relation, I never paid much attention to Zappa. I know Suzy's his creation, but don't know much else about her, or his music. So I probably miss much of your allusions. But then I think you're always a step or two in front of me in your poems.
MSS