Poetry No. 54 – Brendan Walsh

breakfast i wake up starving and ever since you left i can do whatever i want with my morning so i make the largest breakfast anyone’s ever seen. i empty the fridge and crisp it on the stove in one gelatinous glop: condiments, months-old leftovers, chicken bones, half-cut onions and forgotten carrots, allofit sizzles and amalgamates. with the crack of seven free range, cage free, … Continue reading Poetry No. 54 – Brendan Walsh