wjsullivan.net

Overloading the Machine

Omelet

I want to write a cracked egg poem with no yolk.
No, I want to write a jumbo egg poem with two yolks.

Toothpaste running down my freshly shaven chin
I divide my life into embryos of employment

and their locations, dozens of eras
dozens of yolks and the result

is financial and white. Divide
and continue, there is always more

to rerun and review. I don't need
to see the end of this show

the part where
like I said

how would you like your eggs?
Over

The countdown had stalled at 'T' minus 69 seconds when Desiree, the first female ape to go up in space, winked at me slyly and pouted her thick, rubbery lips unmistakably -- the first of many such advances during what would prove to be the longest, and most memorable, space voyage of my career.

-- Winning sentence, 1985 Bulwer-Lytton bad fiction contest.